The client side

It’s a little bit the grass is greener, a little bit you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.

Last September, when ten incredibly talented individuals and me (I know that reads like I'm not incredibly talented, but work with me) were unceremoniously and, dare I say, unjustifiably laid off from an agency, I had a decision to make.

Was I going to go back to the known routine of agency life? Or would I make a concerted effort to go client side? I know. The suspense is killing me too.

On one hand, it would mean going back to the all-hands-on-deck weekend fire drills, the bad pizza, the uninspired pep talks, people who think we’re curing cancer, anti-social creative directors with bad hair and worse taste in music, hoping against hope to save accounts that are out the door, and watching great work die a thousand deaths before it ever sees the light of day.

But it'd also mean working with friends I’ve known forever, some of the most creative people in the world who challenge me to up my game every day, not having to be there straight up at 9AM, longer than an hour lunches where food, ideas and occasionally drinks flow fast and furious, dressing like a fifteen-year old, the satisfaction of cracking the code on an assignment and the adrenaline rush of selling the work and seeing it produced.

Since it was coming up on the holidays, I decided to take awhile off to think about it.

When January rolled around, I thought maybe I might like to give client side a whirl. I'd had a taste of it when I freelanced at the Game Show Network for about five months—it was awesome. I loved every minute of it with the exception of having to sit through endless hours of Family Feud reruns.

”Survey says…..not this again!”

Come to find out from an agency producer I’d worked with who was now at a tech company (which happened to be about five minutes from my house) there was a position open I might be right for.

I wasn’t ready to give up bingeing Breaking Bad again yet, but I figured it’d been a long time since I’d had to interview anywhere and at the very least it’d be good practice.

The process was a long one. First there was a phone interview. Then another phone interview. Then a third. Once my new phone pals had been won over by my undeniable charm, razor-sharp wit and overabundant humility, it was time for the in-person interviews.

I met with four people—the person I'd report to, her boss and her boss's boss. I also interviewed with someone who worked with my potential boss and who loved a certain musician that I do (even though I used the word "boss" four times in this paragraph it's not the one you're thinking).

Next was a background check. I gave them two of my former colleagues for references, and they both gave me glowing reviews (P.S. the checks are on the way). I got a copy of the report, and was surprised and a bit unnerved to see how in depth it was beyond the interviews. It contained things I didn't remember, but at least no one asked about those two guys in Jersey. That would've been a dealbreaker.

It was almost a two-month process, but finally I got the gig. It was that intoxicating feeling of excitement and dred. I was really, really, really enjoying my time off, and now it had an expiration date.

I mentioned the company is close to home. But thanks to COVID, my five-minute commute is now a thirty-second one. I haven't worked in the office since I started, and I've never met most of the people I work with in-person. Although they all look good and clean up nice on Zoom.

I'm still adjusting to corporate culture. It's a tech company, but not in the loose way you might picture people working at Google or Apple. When my company used to have "jeans Fridays" it was a big deal. Of course now that everyone's working from home it'd be a big deal if they had "pants Fridays."

Many people have been there fifteen years or more. It's a company people like and want to stay at.

Unlike the freewheeling, improvised, do it on-the-fly nature of agencies, in my new corporate side of the world turns out there's a process, manual or paperwork for everything. Sorry, I meant everything.

All in all, I have to say it's been going pretty well. In the short time I've been there, I've already written and produced four spots starring an internationally famous sports figure. I'd tell you who, but I've said too much already.

As far as I've been able to cipher, the people I work with are lovely. They're hard-working, supportive, encouraging, understanding and appreciative of the work I do.

You know, just like in agencies. (Stops for a minute until the laughter dies down).

Anyway, I'm four months into it and learning a whole new way of operating in a new world. Each day I'm enjoying it more and more.

And I'm not just saying that cause I get the employee discount on all the cool stuff.

Boxing lessons

What you're looking at here isn't actually my garage. It's a representative picture, you know, to give you an idea of what my actual garage looks like. In the same way, for example, a picture of Chris Hemsworth would be a representative picture of me.

You know I can hear you laughing, right?

When we started our kitchen/bathroom/living room remodel almost a year ago, the first thing on our to-do list was pack up everything and get it out of the house before the contractors came in to demo the place. After several runs to Box Bros., daily struggles with the tape dispenser and inhaling more marker fumes than I care or can remember while we were labeling them, we finally got it done.

That was then, and this is now. The remodel is complete, and looks fabulous.

But while the remodel proper is finished, we still have sixteen boxes sitting in the garage that have yet to be unpacked and moved back into the new kitchen.

So what's in the boxes? Who the hell knows.

We labeled them with the main items (Did I mention the markers? I can't remember), but there are lots of little gems also packed into each one just waiting to be rediscovered. The box marked "Mixing bowls" might also have clay sculptures the kids made in second grade. The "dishtowels" box could also have a stack of unpaid bills from last January waiting for us. The "Cups and saucers" box is probably filled with....well, that one is likely cups and saucers.

The thinking is one thing at a time, and do everything in the right order. First, we have to clear some room in our new kitchen cabinets so we can put away whatever is hiding in those sixteen boxes. We have yet to do this. And with the holidays upon us, it's a safe bet the boxes in the garage holding Christmas decorations are going to be unpacked way before the remodel ones. Right after we clear some room for the Christmas tree. Don't get me started.

I imagine we'll hit the year mark—January 26 to be exact—before we even start on the remodel boxes. But we'll get to unpacking them just as soon as we're able. And who knows, once we get motivated and start ripping those suckers open, we may even decide to really surprise ourselves and tackle a box or two that's been there since we moved in.

Twenty years ago.

Have the best 19 days ever!

Happy New Year! I think this one is going to be spectacularly great. I mean that. After all, it can't be any worse than 2016, amirite? Truth be told, I think 2017 will be the best year any of us can remember. All nineteen days of it.

I know, I can hear you saying, "But Jeff, aren't there 365 days in a year?" Well sure, in a normal year. But 2017 isn't going to be a normal year. For starters, our dipshit elect is going to be sworn in on January 20th. Which coincidentally, I believe, is the day the world as we know it will end.

We already know, and he confirms it on a daily basis, that he will be the most mentally, emotionally and morally unqualified person ever to hold the office of President of the United States. If anything good is going to happen before he gets us into a nuclear war with China, sinks the stock market, destroys the environment and makes the air unbreathable, it's going to happen in the first nineteen days of the year.

So my recommendation is live it up. Go to Vegas, fly to Paris, pour gas on the credit cards, kiss whoever's there at the moment, drive fast (I mean even faster), eat badly (I mean even worse) and get ready to go out with a big, fat, toothless, trailer-trash smile on your face.

And if for some odd, unexpected reason—a speedy impeachment (please, please, please) or an act of God (this is the prayer to answer)—he's removed from office quickly and we all manage to continue on with our lives, don't even give a second thought to the many acts of complete abandon, ribaldry and debasement you just committed.

Decency, truth or consequences for your actions won't be coming back for at least another fifty years.

Powering down

In an ad agency - excuse me, I mean a fully integrated, digitally progressive, socially engaged, experientially driven, disruption oriented, communications consortium - it's not hard to tell when the holiday season finally arrives. The telltale signs are all around you.

Like the fake Christmas tree in the lobby, the one that's been dragged out of storage and decorated with the same ornaments since 1979.

Emotionally-arrested frat-boy account guys, giggling like baby hyenas and tucking mistletoe in their belts, like they're the first ones ever to do it.

People trampling each other for restroom stalls like it was Black Friday, so they can change before heading out to the debauchery, free bacon-wrapped hors d'oeuvres, open bar and regret-filled morning after that is every agency Christmas party.

But before any of that happens you can see Santa coming to town weeks ahead of time. The agency starts to power down.

Suddenly, attention spans are even less than they normally are. Lunches are longer, because they include shopping time. Starting the first of December, the office begins to thin out as vacations of various lengths start kicking in.

Client meetings get pushed back. You hear a lot of people ask, "What's the difference between getting it to the client the end of the month or the beginning of January? They won't even be there !" Well, you hear me asking.

Laughter happens more often, shop talk happens less often, and there's food and candy everywhere you turn. Which is great, because I was just thinking I wasn't fat enough yet.

If you listen you can hear the agency gears slowly grinding to a halt. It's as if all the hard work, late hours, frustrations, bad client decisions, disappointments, long meetings, pitches, revisions, bad hires and do-overs of the past twelve months have finally caught up with everyone.

And now, as the year comes to a close, they have a chance to finally catch their breath.

One of the great benefits of agency life I wrote about here is the fact many of them close from Christmas Eve day to the first Monday after January 1st. In an age of no bonuses, open offices (don't get me started) and uncovered parking, it's one of the last remaining perks to look forward to.

I'd write more but, you know, it's December. I'm ready to do a little powering down of my own.

Seeing red

There's good news and there's bad news.

The good news is that for the past week, and the next couple coming up, I'm working in Santa Monica. I lived here for almost 20 years, and the city feels like home to me. I can see the ocean from my office, the sunsets are stunning and I know the shortcuts when I need to get where I'm going.

The bad news is those shortcuts don't do jack for me at quittin' time.

See that red cross going from where the 10 freeway starts to where it intersects with the 405? That's what I have to navigate every night to get out of the west side, and then crawl the rest of the way home to Long Beach.

As I've said many times here, I grew up on the mean streets of west L.A., north of Wilshire. And I don't want to become one of those guys that starts a lot of sentences with "back then", but back then this was a precision driving town. People knew how to maneuver. They knew how to go with the flow.

Which is hard to do if the flow's not going.

It's also gotten a lot more crowded since I was a kid. I blame it on the Rose Parade.

Every January, at the same time the rest of the country is digging out from fifteen feet of snow, playing hopscotch over downed power lines and holding on to lamp posts so they don't blow away, they're also watching the Kiwanis Club float celebrating "Togetherness Through Diversity" and the Davis High School Marching Band on television, and seeing the clear, beautiful and often warm sunny January days we get to enjoy here.

So everyone watching sells their house and moves here. The majority of them from the east coast. The thing about the east coast is they actually have public transportation that works, so many times the car they're driving here is their first one.

Which is no news to you if you've ever been on the 405 at rush hour.