Family unties

In his most recent Ad Contrarian newsletter (which you can and should subscribe to here), the great Bob Hoffman says, “Anytime you see the word journey you know you’re in for some massive bullshit.”

The same can be said anytime your employer calls a town hall meeting—inevitably at the most inconvenient time—either in the lobby or on Zoom to tell the underpaid, overworked staff they’re more than just employees working for the man: they’re family.

While this point of view occurs at client side companies I've worked at, I've heard it from literally every agency I've ever been at. For some reason, the commeraderie and casual environment, combined with the rapid-fire wit and intelligence that pervades agency hallways and open office seating is frequently mistaken by leadership for a bond and allegiance that extends beyond the paycheck.

Clearly family means different things to leadership than it does to say Merriam Webster, who defines it as a group of people who live together, or one that is similar to another related by blood, marriage, law, custom or members of one’s intimate social group.

Some greeting card companies and inspirational posters (with and without kittens) define family as people in your life who want you in theirs. The ones who accept you for who you are. Love you no matter what, and would do anything to see you smile.

When was the last time an agency gave a rat’s ass about you smiling?

The truth is when agencies and companies talk about family, it’s more along the lines of the Sopranos. As long as you’re making them money, you’re part of the family. But the minute you’re not, or decide to leave, you're dead to them.

I worked for a company for two years. A lot of that time was spent writing about their core values, with emphasis on how they cared for their employees and considered them *checks notes* family. When I gave notice, I wanted to meet with the VP of Marketing to thank him for everything. Two meetings were scheduled, two meetings were cancelled. I wrote him a nice, personal email afterwards. Never heard back.

From the minute he heard I was going, as far as he was concerned I was gone. And it was a really nice email. Oh well.

When I worked at an agency that shall go nameless—as all agencies within walking distance of the beach, Sancho's Tacos and Pacific City should—they unexpectedly and unceremoniously let a group creative director go who, unlike the executive creative director that tied the can to him, was extremely popular and well liked. True to form, it happened Sopranos style: he went out to lunch and never came back. The next day, the executive creative director sent out a bullshit email condescendingly explaining how these things happen, and we're all still family and we'll get past this sad day together.

He didn't even work up a sweat shoveling that hard.

All this is to give you an important safety tip—don't cross the streams. Work is work, and family is family.

It's easy to tell the difference. Real family doesn't need a town hall to tell you who they are.

Camera ready

Now that we're seven months into the new Zoomconomy™, there are more things to think about than ever before.

Wear your mask. Wash your hands. Wipe down the deliveries. Remember to social distance (I work in ad agencies - I've been doing that for years). But now, there's one more thing to pile on the to-do list in the new world order.

Dressing my room for Zoom.

Like most people I know, I'll be working remotely from home for the foreseeable future. So I planted a flag and claimed a small yet comfortable space to set up shop in my bedroom. The wife bought me a nice wooden table desk that fits just swell under the bedroom window, and looks out onto the lawn and flowers in our front yard.

As far as views go, I file it under things could be worse.

Sitting on the desk is my company monitor and laptop, as well as my personal laptop. With all those screens it looks like Mission Control, except I have trouble launching Photoshop much less rockets. There's also a desk lamp, along with several Hydro Flasks (hydrate people, can't stress it enough).

The problem is when I'm on a Zoom call, you can see most of my bedroom, including the not-as-firm-as-it-used-to-be-oh-my-aching-back California King bed behind me. So now, in addition to everything else to worry about, I have to get up early to make the bed and dress the room for showtime—the many Zoom calls I'll be on during the day.

I suppose I could take the easy way out and use a virtual background. The one with the wind blowing the palm trees is nice. So is the Golden Gate bridge. I've even added the hallway from The Shining and the lunar surface as options. But it's always a little distracting when several people on the call are using the same background. And if we're all in the same place, why do we have to have a Zoom call in the first place, amIrite?

Also, Zoom hasn't quite mastered the fine art of green screen. Using virtual backgrounds makes various parts of my face, fabulous head of hair and ripped (fat) body disappear while I move around during the calls. Mostly to drink from one of the Hydro Flasks.

So here's the new early morning routine: make the bed. Arrange the mountain of pillows the wife stores on the bed. Put the Thunder Road street sign my daughter gave me on top of the lamp next to my headboard, because, you know, Bruce. And make sure all the books on my night stand are facing spine out towards the camera, so everyone can see all my anti-Trump reading material.

If I was working in the office I wouldn't be able to make any political statements. But this is my house, so Fuck Trump.

The worst part of this work from home deal is getting up early. I've been called a lot of things, but morning person isn't one of them. Currently my iPhone alarm has Uptown Funk set to eleven to jolt me up in time for the daily show. But given the situation, I'm thinking of changing it to something more subtle, yet appropriate.

Like a stage manager screaming "Five minutes! Places people!"