GEIFY. (George Explains It For You.)

A decade ago or two, when I was still working at one giant decaying advertising agency or another, I had developed a theory on how to improve the work the agency was able to sell.

This was a pragmatic theory, not to kind of powerpointy thing agencies propagate then patent which are usually beautifully designed and all but inscrutable to anyone with even an iota of scrut left.

My theory was pretty simple, as most good theories should be (and aren't any longer) at least if you believe in the efficacy, or even sanctity of Occam's Razor. (Occam’s razor is a principle attributed to 14th–century friar William of Ockham. It says that if you have two competing ideas to explain the same phenomenon, you should prefer the simpler one. It has nothing to do with shaving.)

When I played baseball, the most salient strategic advice I ever received from anyone I got from my Seraperos' manager, Hector Quetzacoatl Padilla, aka Hector Quesadilla. One night we were down by two with two men on in a late inning. As I was heading to the plate for my swings, Hector took me aside and laid some deep strategic thinking on me. "Hit a double," he said. You can do all that moneyball shit. None of it is worth a bucket of lukewarm spit if someone doesn't hit a two-bagger with men on.

My theory of improving work isn't quite that simple, but it's not bad.

Most agencies, account people and creative directors know the quality of work they need to deliver to a) not get yelled at, and b) sell something to the client.

Exhibit A.

The sweetspot is usually about midway between really good and really sucky. That's the "acceptable range." The left side of my bracket is to be avoided. Most agencies try harder and strive for the right side. The good end of meh.

Agencies, like every other social organization from a small family unit to a summer camp to a giant enterprise, are governed by the inviolable laws of entropy. If you don't feel like looking up that three-syllable word, just remember this simple metaphor. "Rust never sleeps." In other words, things inevitably decay. Your acceptable band gets crappier over time.

Exhibit B.

To counteract the movement to dreckdom, smart agencies don't try to immediately and radically change the acceptable band. That's not likely to happen, and might upset the client along the way. No one today in virtually any walk of life is embracing risk. To be tautological, it's too risky.

But what you can do is change the tectonics of your agency client dynamic. You can shift decay to improvement. That can be slowly accomplished by still "staying in your acceptable band, but every-so-often presenting something that you consider smart, good and challenging. That is the kind of creative you really want to do. As represented below by the X bracket.

Every once in a while.

There's a probability that this work will never see the light of day or the pick of pixel or the lens of camera. It still makes almost everyone nervous. And 99.76% of everyone prefers comfortable.

However, by relentlessly sharing good work, by persistently challenging the client and your agency, you are playing the long game. Rather than your acceptable band of work migrating into dreck territory...

Regression to the very mean.

...showing smarter, better work stops the decay and slowly, slowly, slowly can lead to a resuscitation.

Ascension.

Most agencies and creatives and yes, clients, have given up in many ways. There's such tonnage demanded, that no one any longer has the time to think about how to improve life. What's more, most agencies and the bankers that own them, want immediate radical change. So they bring in a set of outsiders who break the system entirely. They start with hope and quickly sink hip deep into the ash-heap of futility.

It's like the New York Jets every year or so. Some trade, high-draft pick or new coach is going to turn their fortunes around. 

Then they finish yet another season 3-14.

There's no simple way to improve an account, an agency or an industry. There's only, really, marathon training. 

That means lacing up your shoes and clocking your miles through rain, sleet, snow or gloom of night. Through cramps, aches and marauding rodents.

Work takes work.

Good work takes even more.