Encore post: The right attitude

This year, Thanksgiving is going to be filled with more gratitude than most, starting with the fact we finally get to gather around the table again with family and friends. Like Joni Mitchell said, "You don't know what you've got til it's gone." The pandemic Thanksgivings reminded us of what we had. And, thankfully, have again.

So let's take this day to reflect on our blessings, hold those here and gone in our hearts, be thankful for all we have, and plot how we're going to slice a bigger piece of pumpkin pie without anyone noticing. Pro tip: turn on the TV and ask if anyone wants to watch the parade. That usually gives you a few minutes alone with the pie.

You're welcome. Happy Thanksgiving.

I don't think there's anyone who knows me, as much as anyone can know anyone, who'd argue the fact that I've gotten complaining down to an art form. I'm not proud.

Anyway, I thought it'd be good for me and everyone within earshot if I tried developing a different skill. So I'm choosing gratitude.

It's dawned on me, more than once, that in the scheme of things - the big picture - I have it pretty damn good in almost every area of my life. Not as good as some, but I'd be willing to bet better than most. And it's not that I'm ungrateful - quite the opposite in fact. But what I do know is I could make a more frequent habit of practicing gratitude. Maybe turn it into an everyday thing, because everyday, there's something to be grateful for.

It could start every morning. My pal Cameron always says any day above ground is a good day. So waking up each morning seems like a good thing to be grateful for.

I don't work in insurance or the fast food industry. I don't work on an assembly line. Not that there's anything wrong with those necessary jobs or the essential people that work hard in them. But I'm grateful I have a job that lets me make up stuff and dress like a fifteen-year old everyday.

I could've wound up working with a bunch of stiffs, boring people who make the long days even more excruciating than they already are. Instead, (almost) no matter which agency I'm at, I'm grateful I get to work with some of the funniest, most creative people in any business.

My wife and kids are healthy and love me.

My two dogs are healthy and love me.

My neighbors are healthy.

I'm finding it's doing me good to have an attitude of gratitude, even for the little things.

Finding a parking space when I turn in the lot.

Not having to wait in the slow line at the market.

Walking up to the washer just as it finishes the cycle.

I'm grateful for my friends, who support, encourage and uplift me in all my endeavors and wild schemes. I mean my current friends. I cut the whiners and complainers loose long ago - no time for them. I'm grateful I did that as well.

So that's all I wanted to say. No snarky post, no quippy little end line tonight. I'll wrap it up by saying I'm grateful to everyone who reads this on a regular, semi-regular or occasional basis.

That's it. Now I'm done with this post.

See? I even gave you something to be grateful for.

The five stages of advertising

I think it's safe to assume my ad agency creative broheim—and woheim—will immediately recognize these five stages of emotion. While your first thought might understandably be that they're the five stages of grief, they're actually the five stages we all go through while we're pushing the boulder uphill, attempting to get great work out the door.

Truth be told, there's a fine line between advertising and grief. Nah, I'm just messin' with ya. There is no line. It’s basically the same emotional rollercoaster as mourning a loss. While there might be slight variations on the themes from agency to agency, the experience always has a familiar ring to it.

DENIAL.

This happens right at the beginning: the kickoff meeting. They hand out the brief, and after a quick look see the head shaking starts. You're inside voice starts muttering things like “They can’t really want all this in the ad.” “It’s five pounds of shit in a two pound banner.” “This isn’t the real brief, no one would be that stupid.”

Which of course takes us seamlessly into the next stage.

ANGER.

I think Elvis put it best when he said, “Lord a’mighty, I feel my temperature risin’…” Anger kicks in at the precise moment you realize the client wants the ad packed with exactly everything they just told you they wanted in the kick off. And the account people promised it to them before they spoke to you.

If they'd had bagels at the kickoff maybe you'd have been more forgiving. But they had to cut back on the bagel budget because Cannes will be here before you know it. They'll be entering all that work you're shaking your head about. If I were you I wouldn't waste any time working on the acceptance speech.

I may have gotten off topic here.

Anyway, as all this goes running through your inner conversation, you can't help but default to a tactic that has about as much chance of working as a Republican healthcare plan.

BARGAINING.

This happens in the account exec or supe’s office, you know, the “they can’t be serious about this” meeting where you explain there’s no way what they’re asking for will work.

It's a tale as old as time. Once you walk out of that encounter, there's only one thing you'll be feeling.

DEPRESSION.

The account person already promised it to the client, and why don’t you just take a shot at it and see what you can do. And if you’re wondering what it is they’re putting on your shoulders right now, it’s the “Besides, the client isn’t happy with us and it’ll make the agency look bad if we don’t deliver.” weights.

And by agency they mean them.

ACCEPTANCE.

You’re not getting out of it, so you take the shot. Maybe they’ll realize what they’re asking for is awful once they see it. Not likely, but keeping hope alive is all you've got right now. So off you and your partner go, deep sighs and muttering lines like, “Oh well, they’re getting the advertising they deserve.” and my personal favorite, “The checks clear.”

Of course, when this happens enough times and you come to the realization it ain't ever going to change, there's always a sixth stage to keep in mind once you've tried everything else.

HEADHUNTER.