Encore post: My head hurts

A little over six years ago, I put up this post about overthinking. And I'm happy to say in that time, what with the thousands hundreds dozens nine industry power players who've read it, absolutley nothing has changed.

Even though the advertising world looks drastically different today what with working from home, hybrid home/office situations, the great resignation, Zoomers and reimbursed wi-fi, it's comforting to know one thing that will never change is the uncanny ability for (certain) agency people to make mountains out of molehills.

Whatever you do, don't overthink this little updated intro too much. It's clear I didn't.

Please to enjoy.

Ad agencies are overflowing with lots of things. Creative ideas. People with opinions. Knit caps. Tattoos. Bad coffee. One thing there's also no shortage of is The Overthinkers - people who overthink every little thing. Every single thing. Over. And over. And over.

Don't get me wrong: I'm all for the well thought out question. A dash of examination. A pinch of should we or shouldn't we. But I’ve often wondered what it is The Overthinkers actually bring to the table. Sure, they manage to turn every item on the brief (all fifteen pages of it) into an event in the Second Guessing Olympics, with all of them going for the gold. But beyond that, what does it all add up to?

Every time The Overthinkers reconsider a point they reconsidered a minute ago, the work has to change, because “this time they’ve got it.”

Until the next time.

It’s the reason work is constantly being revised, rewritten, revamped and regurgitated all way up to the last minute. It’s why meetings and more meetings are held to reveal the latest insight and observations.

Until the next ones.

And it’s the cause of enormous amounts of time and confusion being unnecessarily added into the process.

Planners, brand strategists, VP's of Cultural Trend Metrics - or whatever they hell they're calling themselves this week - have managed to turn what should be a single-focused insight into a Three-Card Monty game of strategy. If you can guess which card it’s under, you win the strategy to work against.

Spoiler alert: you never win.

The Overthinkers have to keep changing the rules, because if they don’t they’re out of a job. It's like the paid consultant who has to create a problem so he can solve it, and then create another one to keep the checks rolling in.

In the name of simplicity, efficiency and a better product, it might be a good thing for The Overthinkers to take one for the team and move on.

Then creatives could execute against a simple strategy, in a short, concise brief we’d only have to meet about once.

Of course, The Overthinkers might wonder why they ever left such a cush position. The good news is they’d have plenty of time to overthink about it.

See you next year

As we wrap up another spin around the sun, I can't help but feel uncharacteristically optimistic about what the next decade has in store for us all.

First and foremost, I believe a return to sanity is coming in November, when the unstable genius is voted out of office (according to the actual count he wasn't voted in - don't get me started), and forced to wear even more orange as he's perp walked out of the White House to a solitary jail cell in upstate New York with neither a gold toilet or internet connection.

Before that happens, I'm hoping as the new decade begins Nancy Pelosi will hold the articles of impeachment from the senate until the traitor-in-chief gives his Hate Of The Union speech. But only because I think a meltdown of that magnitude on national television would be once in a lifetime, very entertaining, and probably something even the red caps and mint julep senator from South Carolina couldn't ignore.

On a more personal note, I'm grateful for many things that happened this past year, not the least of which are the friends I made at my last gig (you know who you are). I anticipate many of those relationships getting even closer now that they can flourish in much saner, more fun and healthier environments. Not that advertising agencies aren't healthy environments (pausing to make my eyes stop rolling).

Also grateful I don't have to see certain people every day anymore. Well, mainly that one guy.

I'm also planning on bringing some projects I've kept on the back burner to a full boil this year. A screenplay based on my favorite book. Another based on a sci-fi story from a famous author that I'm this close to getting the rights to. And a script for a show with one of my aforementioned friends, who is a far better, funnier and talented writer than I am (you know who you are). Oh are those your coattails? Yeah, I can hang on.

Crap, I just put it in writing. Does that mean I have to do it? I mean, no one's under oath here.

Anyway, if there's ever been a year where you could say, "There's nowhere to go but up" this is it. Here's wishing you and yours best year ever. I hope it's everything you want it to be.

Except that one guy.

Are you the gatekeeper?

Once upon a time, when it came to getting into an agency, whether for a full time position or freelance, hopeful creative people sent their books (portfolio of their work in layman's terms) or promo piece (remember promo pieces?) to the creative director. That's because in a kindler, gentler industry, creative directors usually carved out some time - an hour or so a week - to go through books that'd been submitted.

They returned the ones they didn't want with a nice, brief thanks-but-no-thanks note. They called in the owners of the ones they liked for an interview or a meet-and-greet.

They were obviously the most qualified people to do this for a few reasons. For starters, they were creative people themselves. They understood what goes into coming up with an ad, the obstacles encountered in shaping and crafting it to make it great and the hurdles involved in getting it presented and produced. They spoke the language.

They were the first stop on the job tour.

Fast forward to today, where they're the last.

In today's fully-integrated agencies, with their manifestos on their websites, granola in the kitchen next to the Starbucks Via envelopes and planners offering their "insights," there's a position called Creative Resources Director. Or Creative Services Coordinator. Or Talent Relations Supervisor. Or Creative Concierge. However, that's not what they're called by the actual talent.

They're called gatekeepers.

These are the people who make or break you by getting you - or not - into the agency, and getting your work in front of the creative director.

Gatekeepers usually have the full trust and endorsement of the creative directors, even though most of them have never actually worked as a creative in a creative department. Yet there they are, judging on some criteria only they know which books get through and which don't. I imagine it's a carefully worked out formula of quality of work, reputation, freelance budget and have I had my coffee yet.

Gatekeepers, like creative directors (and freelancers), come in all flavors. There are absolutely great ones out there (like the ones at all the agencies where I work - you know who you are, and thank you). These are the ones that return your email, maintain a friendly attitude, negotiate a rate you're both happy with when they bring you in and let you down easy when they don't.

They keep the lines of communication open, and make it clear it's alright to check in every now and then to see what's going on.

Then there are the other kind of gatekeepers. They're what I like to call the meter maids of gatekeeping. They have a uniform so they think they're real policemen. But they're not.

Every creative person has or will run into one of these. They almost go out of their way not to have a relationship with the very people they will at some point want to work for them. They will never answer any emails, yet they will fully expect you to negotiate your day rate to the basement for them when they call you in two hours before they need you. They'll make sure you know how lucky you are they even considered you.

They'll check your availability, and then they'll never check back with you.

In the same way creative people establish reputations around town, so do the gatekeepers. It's well known in the freelance community who the great ones are, just like it's known who the um, less-than-great ones are. Like the French resistance, there actually is a freelance underground where the community has its ways of sharing their gatekeeper experiences with each other. It's a way of looking out for each other even if everyone's competing for the same jobs.

At the end of the day, gatekeepers are something you accept and work with. If they're the good ones - and I can't say this enough, like all the ones I work with - it's always a pleasure dealing with them. If they're the bad ones, you find the grace to muddle through while holding your ground.

By the way, if you happen to be a gatekeeper and you're reading this, you know the meter maid crack wasn't about you, right?

Quiet time

Ad agencies are inherently loud places.

Even before open space floor plans – don’t get me started- hallways would be filled with people yelling from one office to the other.

You'd hear self-congratulatory chuckles of creative teams laughing at their own ideas.

Heels tapping along polished cement floors, while people walked fast and conversed like they were on The West Wing.

And of course, the ever present click clack of computer keys, followed by the jet engine roar of the printer firing up and spitting out copies of resumes…er…creative briefs.

There’s an unmistakable rhythm, hum and drone to the daily pace of an agency. Which is why it’s so eerie when an agency goes quiet.

Sometimes it’s a convergence of several things. People have left or been let go and have yet to be replaced. Others are out on production. Art directors are out on press checks. Copywriters are working (on our lattes) at Starbucks. People are behind closed doors in meetings.

The end result is an unsettling, yet welcome quiet. You can almost hear the tumbleweeds a blowin’ down the hallway and smell the honeysuckle.

Anyway, as sure as the the ebb and flo of the tide, the noise eventually returns to quiet agencies like swallows to Capistrano.

Loud, egotistical, long-lunching, knit-cap wearing, ironic-tshirt sporting, complaining swallows.

My head hurts

Ad agencies are overflowing with lots of things. Creative ideas. People with opinions. Knit caps. Tattoos. Bad coffee. One thing there's also no shortage of is The Overthinkers - people who overthink every little thing. Every single thing. Over. And over. And over.

Don't get me wrong: I'm all for the well thought out question. A dash of examination. A pinch of should we or shouldn't we. But I’ve often wondered what it is The Overthinkers actually bring to the table. Sure, they manage to turn every item on the brief (all fifteen pages of it) into an event in the Second Guessing Olympics, with all of them going for the gold. But beyond that, what does it all add up to?

Every time The Overthinkers reconsider a point they reconsidered a minute ago, the work has to change, because “this time they’ve got it.”

Until the next time.

It’s the reason work is constantly being revised, rewritten, revamped and regurgitated all way up to the last minute. It’s why meetings and more meetings are held to reveal the latest insight and observations.

Until the next ones.

And it’s the cause of enormous amounts of time and confusion being unnecessarily added into the process.

Planners, brand strategists, VP's of Cultural Trend Metrics - or whatever they hell they're calling themselves this week - have managed to turn what should be a single-focused insight into a Three-Card Monty game of strategy. If you can guess which card it’s under, you win the strategy to work against.

Spoiler alert: you never win.

The Overthinkers have to keep changing the rules, because if they don’t they’re out of a job. It's like the paid consultant who has to create a problem so he can solve it, and then create another one to keep the checks rolling in.

In the name of simplicity, efficiency and a better product, it might be a good thing for The Overthinkers to take one for the team and move on.

Then creatives could execute against a simple strategy, in a short, concise brief we’d only have to meet about once.

Of course, The Overthinkers might wonder why they ever left such a cush position. The good news is they’d have plenty of time to overthink about it.

Under inflated balls

In the last few days we've been hearing a lot about under inflated footballs. Allegedly, the New England Patriots used them to help win their AFC Championship game against the Colts last Sunday.

Let's pause for a minute and congratulate me on the fact I actually know the names of two teams and what they were playing for. I'm as surprised as you are.

The reason under inflated balls (I'll never get tired of that phrase) make a difference is that they're easier to grip and throw.

Here's the thing: while the issue of under inflated balls is a relatively new discussion for the NFL, it's been rampant in ad agencies ever since the very first "new and improved." Many have suffered the affliction for years. Surprisingly, the condition is anatomically agnostic. It affects both men and women in the business.

The symptoms are readily apparent, although they do vary. They can run anywhere from letting the client write the copy, to telling the creative team, "I could present this but I know you can do better." Other symptoms include run-on meetings, not challenging client mandates, letting the work go down in flames without so much as a whimper, insisting the bulk of the budget be shifted to digital and reading the brief word for word.

If you find yourself in a completely ridiculous argument lasting four hours or more with someone who has never created a thing in their life, yet continues to criticize your work, they most likely have an untreated case of under inflated balls.

Try to be understanding and not judgmental. Give them the same reassuring, constructive advice their doctor would.

Grow a pair.

I can't wait to see how it ends

Advertising has never been shy about being behind the bandwagon, then jumping on it and saying they've been steering it the whole time. It's also a business that's never met a buzzword it didn't like.

If you've been on any agency website recently, usually in the About section, you've probably noticed the unholy alliance of bandwagon with the buzzword du jour: Storytellers.

Apparently agency creative departments aren't staffed with copywriters and art directors anymore. Instead, they've been replaced by storytellers.

I get it. It's a romantic notion, and it plays well in pitches where the client is told how the "story" of their brand will be conveyed to the waiting masses. Like many other things in advertising, it's hyperbole.

It's the janitor calling himself a sanitation engineer.

I can't exactly tell you why this trend pisses me off so much. Maybe because it's so blatantly untrue. Or the image it conjures up is of someone who's facile with exaggeration, able to spin a yarn or an impossible - and unbelievable - tale out of thin air.

And if there's anything advertising needs to be more of, it's unbelievable.

Storytellers, the really good ones, are skilled at the practiced art of spinning straw into gold. But when the story's over, compelling though it may be, you're still left with straw.

Storytellers, brand stewards, marketing gurus (yes that was on one of the sites), dynamic social directives officers. Whatever. It all sounds false and a little desperate to me.

As for the agencies who insist on calling themselves that, I believe their future can be summed up in two words found in every story.

Once more, with feeling

There are always telltale signs of New Year's Eve. Like the news telling you at 7a.m. it's already new year's in Australia, and showing you the fireworks over Sydney harbor. Wonder how the new year's going for them so far?

And of course what celebration would be complete without the Year In Review on the Today Show, reminding us all of stories and moments we'd more often rather forget than remember. I'm speaking specifically about what Matt and Savannah dressed up as on Halloween, and all the shots of Savannah visiting the set while on her maternity leave to show off her new baby (I don't know if you're aware of this, but apparently she's the first woman ever to have a child).

Even though I feel more encouraged and optimistic looking forward instead of in the rear view mirror, I think it's a good thing to take a little inventory now and again before saying goodbye to the year (as long as it doesn't include pictures of Savannah Guthrie and her baby).

As I look back - and don't panic, this isn't going to be a Christmas card 'All About My Year' letter - several great things happened. For example, I did some great work for agencies I've never worked for before. I got to work again with my pal Johnny. I got over myself and went to a reunion for one of the agencies I've worked for, and saw friends and colleagues I was surprised I'd missed so much. I also worked with new people, like Jim and Nicky, that I'm excited about working with again.

On a personal note, I was reunited with a long lost friend. I had lunches with people who matter to me. I also started college tours with my handsome, talented son (that's an objective opinion by the way), which is good because I just don't get enough reminders in the day about how fast time is passing.

We also got a new puppy. Which seems like a good time to mention I'm offering a generous reward for the first person who invents a self-cleaning yard.

Anyway, enough looking back. Here's to health, happiness and prosperity for all my family, friends and loyal readers.

All five of you.

For my own amusement

I was reading this article about things you can do, knowingly or not, that'll get you kicked out of an amusement park. Which would definitely ruin your day, and make the park the opposite of whatever the happiest place on earth is.

Then I started thinking, and not for the first time, what would it take to get kicked out of an ad agency? Agencies are notoriously tolerant of personalities that wouldn't last ten minutes in any other business. In fact, more often than not those people are rewarded for their bad behavior. They fail up. For the rest of us it's like living in opposite world.

Anyway, I decided to quickly draw up a by no means complete or scientific Agency/Amusement Park Ejection Equivalency Chart to see how things that get you tossed out of parks would fare in the agency world.

So face forward, buckle your seat belt and keep your arms and hands inside the car.

Big Coolers

Hard-sided coolers are prohibited at Universal, SeaWorld and Disney. Universal also prohibits soft coolers larger than 8.5 in wide x 6 in high x 6 in deep.

The biggest concern agencies have about coolers is if they have enough beer in them for everybody to go with the pizza they bring in on Summer Fridays, or at the annual pep talk.

Dressing Up As Your Favorite Disney Character

In accordance with park policy, adults who dress in attire that looks too similar to a real Disney character may be asked to leave.

The last thing agencies care about is what someone wears. One of the great benefits of the business is that no matter how long you’ve been in it, you can still dress like a 15-year old. Knit caps. Hoodies. Jeans. T-shirts. Sleeping Beauty. Pocahontas. Mr. Incredible. It’s all good. Even account people don’t have to wear suits and ties, although it’s still easy to spot them. Their jeans are creased.

Markers & Paint

Think again before unleashing your street art skills during your next visit to a theme park. Parks spend millions of dollars each year to maintain their facilities and keep grounds clean. Wannabe graffiti taggers are certainly not welcome at Six Flags parks where magic markers and spray paints of any kind are expressly prohibited.

Are you kidding? Markers and paints are tools of the trade. As far as spray paint, well, you usually find that in the parking lot near that huffing sound.

Packing A Picnic

While small snack items are permitted at Universal Orlando, packing a full meal is prohibited. Per park policy, there is a ban on “picnic lunches” and “food that requires heating or refrigeration.”

You know the old saying about an army traveling on its stomach? So does an agency. There’s almost always food to be found. Whether it’s brought in for late night work sessions, left over from a client presentation, or – and this is usually the good food – brought in by a production company/media rep who wants you to look at a reel. There’s also assorted candy, cookies, sodas and sour grapes lying around. Lots of sour grapes.

Obscene Tattoos

If you have a tattoo that may be considered offensive, try a long sleeve shirt or you may be kicked out of a Disney park. They prohibit “obscene tattoos” but do not define parameters.

Let’s put it this way: you can be kicked out of an agency for not having a tattoo.The more obscene the better. It shows you're edgy, bold, and don't give a damn what the man thinks. Unless the man is the guy at the unemployment office. Then you're going to want to wear long sleeves.

Feeding The Animals

While Disney’s Animal Kingdom and SeaWorld offer visitors the opportunity to pet or feed certain animals under attendant supervision, feeding one of these animals on your time can result in swift eviction from Disney, SeaWorld, and Six Flags.

See Packing A Picnic.

It's easy to see agencies are pretty loose and freewheelin' when it comes to the kinds of concerns amusement parks fret about. By the way, this isn't the first time I've compared ad agencies to amusement parks. I also did it here. The reason I keep doing it is they just have so many things in common.

Although I'm not sure which roller-coaster ride makes me scream louder.

Best practices aren't

Clients and agencies both love to take refuge in "best practices."

The general definition, at least when it comes to advertising, is that they're a method, technique, style or set of defined guidelines that've shown results in the past better than had they not been used. They're tried and true. They've worked before. They'll work again.

Which begs the question: how do you know?

The truth is best practices make both sides feel they're doing the right thing - the optimum that can be done. It provides acceptable and universally understood cover if the effort fails.

In reality, what they do is slam the door (or block the road - it was the better picture) on new ideas. "Best practices" is the quintessential synonym for "It's worked before, it'll work again."

The problem with that line of thinking is the same one dice have at the crap table: they don't care what the odds are. In other words, best practices are just that. Until they're not.

Next time someone asks if you're using best practices, tell them not a chance. If they ask why not, say it's your best practice against mediocre work.

Well-placed blame

My good friend Michelle Purcell once said you can never underestimate the power of well-placed blame. As usual, she was right.

Clearly this is something all ad agencies, or marketing communication collectives, or integrated media-agnostic think tanks, or whatever the hell they're calling themselves this week have a deep understanding of.

At agencies, blame gets passed around faster than a Kennedy driving to the liquor store at closing time.

Or to paraphrase Groucho's "whatever it is I'm against it", the internal battle cry is "whatever it is, I didn't do it."

The reason is pretty obvious. If you've ever been fired from an agency, all it means is that you showed up. But agencies, especially the ones owned by holding companies (is there any other kind?), run on fear and no one likes getting fired, especially for a mistake they made.

Like underestimating the client's budget by $12 million.

Scheduling a shoot on a Vancouver beach in winter.

Telling the client you can get it done without checking with anybody if what they're asking for can be done. Then not getting it done.

Rather than man up and face the music, walk into an agency and you'll see so much finger pointing it looks like a master class in giving directions. Ironically for a business that believes consumers have to have an emotional attachment to their product, many of the players have no personal attachment to their decisions or actions. At least if they backfire.

However if they succeed, then the ground shifts from the blame game to the taking credit game. That's the one where anyone who was in the building and passed a meeting in the conference room where they were presenting a successful campaign takes credit for it.

Agencies don't have a monopoly on either behavior. Anytime you have an office with the kind of politics, ego and ambition found in agencies, the same primal survival instincts kick in.

I don't mean to paint in broad strokes - this is not to say you can't find responsible people with a finely honed sense of integrity, grit, decency and honor in agencies. You can.

But if you can't, don't blame me.

Danny

I don’t know if other industries are like this, but the ad community is a small one. Especially in L.A. Because of that, you wind up seeing a lot of the same faces at different agencies around town. Sometimes a good thing, sometimes not.

In the case of Danny Alegria, it was more than a good thing: it was a blessing.

Danny either worked in the studio or was the studio manager at three agencies I had the good fortune to work with him at: DBC, DDB and Y&R.

Ad agencies just love their initials don’t they?

Danny was always a bright light in what could be a dark environment. Being in the studio, he was ground zero for stressed out account and creative people throwing fits when it came to getting something they usually needed yesterday out the door to a client, or materials for a big presentation or new business pitches.

Regardless of the pressure and tantrums that came his way, he had a good word for everyone (something extremely difficult to do at agencies). And there was never a question about him getting what you needed done.

Even though I’d known him for years, I’d never really sat down and talked to him until one very slow day at Y&R about nine or ten years ago. We wound up sitting down and literally talking for over three hours. He told me about his time in the Navy, his background as a singer, his years as a jockey, exactly how horseracing worked (not the way you’d think or hope), his family and more.

I couldn’t believe this fascinating person had been steps away from me for years, and yet only now was I just discovering who he was and learning about him.

I had always loved horseracing. In fact, when I was in college I loved it a little too much, to the tune of rent money on occasion. Danny and I made an agreement we’d take a trip out to Santa Anita, and he’d give me the lowdown on the horses and be my betting Yoda.

Sadly, we never got to make that trip.

Danny was diagnosed with cancer. But like everything else in my experience with him, he handled it with grace, honesty and dignity.

He would post unflinchingly on Facebook about how he was doing - the progress of both the treatment and the disease.

As to be expected with cancer as widespread as his had become, there were good days and bad days. But even on the bad days, the really bad ones, there would be a thread of optimism.

On one of his good days, he invited me to come see him give what he knew would be his last singing performance. I wouldn't have missed it. Not only did I get to see Danny perform, I got to see a lot of long, lost friends from agencies past we'd worked with over the years, who were also out in force to show support for him, and his talent that we didn't get to see nearly enough.

Danny was in great form that day, but it tired him out. It was easy to see the toll his cancer was taking.

I would text back and forth with him. I told him I'd come out to where he lived in Riverside and take him to lunch, or if he wasn't up to going out, bring it to him and we'd eat at his place and talk about the race track. I believe he was confined to his bed at that point, but even so he just told me he wasn't feeling well, but as soon as he rallied we'd do it.

Shortly after that conversation, on July 10, 2012, Danny died at the age of 60.

For me, it's certainly a personal loss, as I know it is for his family. But it's bigger than that: it's a global one. The world simply can't afford to lose people as decent, caring and loving as Danny always was to not just his family and friends, but everyone he encountered.

His Facebook page is still active, and every now and then I find myself re-reading some of the posts he put up as he was going through his ordeal. They are honest, inspiring, funny, heartbreaking and hopeful. I'm also friends with his daughter on there, and though I've never met her in person I feel as though we have a strong connection.

She is funny, bright and optimistic. Just like her old man.

Not a day goes by that I don't think about Danny and the meal together I was so looking forward to.

It's comforting knowing he's finally resting in well-deserved peace.

And that he's making heaven a much more rockin' place.

Take the week off

It's been twelve days since I've posted on here, but I figured that fit right in with the season: twelfth month of the year, twelve days of Christmas. You see where I'm going here.

Now you might be thinking I've simply been too lazy to think of anything worthwhile to write about, but that's not it at all.

Actually I was out shopping for your gift, you know, that thing you told me you wanted way back in summer.

Im not saying that to make you feel bad for thinking I was lazy (but you do don't you? Ha, it worked!)

At any rate it certainly wasn't because I was busy working. In fact, almost everyone who works at an agency wasn't busy working. Every year, the Christmas spirit takes over agencies right after Thanksgiving, kicks in to high gear at Christmas parties in early December and reaches its peak the Friday before Christmas.

That's because while bonuses, flying first class, five-star hotels and expensing lunch has become mostly a thing of the past, one perk of agency life that's still around is the extra paid week off between Christmas and New Year's.

I'd like to report that it's out of the goodness of their hearts these multi-conglomerate global holding companies decide to give employees the week off. But it's more the fact that all the clients are gone for the holidays, nothing gets done or approved anyway and management wants the week off for themselves.

Still - and freelancers appreciate this more than most - a paid week off is a good thing no matter what the reason.

So, while I've had a self-imposed twelve days off from posting already, most likely I'll be giving myself this coming week off in solidarity with my on-staff comrades. In that time, I hope to write down the ideas as they occur, and have plenty of new posts ready for you in the coming year.

Have yourself a Merry Christmas, and a safe and sane New Year.

See you on the other side.

Radio radio

Yesterday I was talking about radio with my pal Rich Siegel, author, owner and grand poobah of Round Seventeen. In one of my many business schemes, I asked Rich why don’t we start a radio production company. We’re both good writers with lots of radio production experience. It seemed like a win-win to me.

Rich replied, “Who pays for radio anymore?”

Thanks pal. Here’s my balloon –pop it.

Of course, he’s right.

For starters, there’s not a lot of radio being done, and what little there is certainly doesn't have any money – real money – thrown against it. Agencies usually just hand it off to the juniors, or the interns because they pay them even less than the juniors.

In most agencies, radio is considered the bastard stepchild to, well, to just about every other media. Maybe it’s because good radio is so hard to do, but many writers suddenly seem to get swamped when a radio assignment is up for grabs.

I’ve never looked at it that way.

The fact is, for the most part, the agency leaves you alone when you write radio. It’s not that high on the glam-o-meter, so you can usually fly under the radar and write some pretty fun stuff. But let me go back to an earlier point: good radio is hard to do.

There are of course basic rules to writing good radio. But if you've listened to any radio commercials lately, I'm sure you'll agree there need to be more.

Here are a few I’d add:

First, no more spots where the listener is eavesdropping on the recording session, and then the talent realizes they’re recording.

Next, no fake stand-up comedians with bad fake material and fake canned laughs.

Then, no more spots where the talent is talking about a sale with another talent, and suddenly there’s a door slam sound effect and the first talent says something to the effect of, “I guess everybody’s going to the (CLIENT NAME HERE) sale!”

Even though many writers use them, filler lines have got to go. You know the ones I mean. Lines like “so what’re you waiting for?” or “Hurry in now, the only thing that’ll be gone faster than these (PRODUCT NAME) is this sale.“

Lastly, the direction “more energy, have fun with it” must be banned from all recording sessions. No real person is that happy about having to take erectile dysfunction pills or diarrhea medicines.

This isn't the first time Rich and I have talked about starting a business. Just a few days ago, he suggested we start a deli.

I thought it was a good idea. Obviously, since we work in agencies, we already have enough baloney to stock it.

Quittin' time

Since I started in the business, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people trying to get out. More than ever, people are dreaming of a way - screenplay, starting a business, moving away and the ever popular winning lotto. They all have one of two never-truer-than-now rallying cries: “The business isn’t what it used to be.” or “It’s not fun anymore.”

Despite the fact both are true, fewer people actually leave than would like to.

The reason’s simple: it’s the pure joy of creating work. The collaboration working with a partner who sees the execution of an idea exactly the way you do. The unparalleled fun of shepherding an idea through the agency. The unadulterated joy of doing work that can at times be both artistic and effective, and at the end of the day is always appreciated by clients, account people and the public alike.

Nah, I’m just messing with you. It’s the money.

I was talking with an art director friend of mine at lunch today about our day rates, and the fact the work we do isn’t exactly breaking rocks. Then we talked about people who do real jobs, like police, firemen, nurses, teachers, military personnel. It’s awfully unfair we get paid what we do, and they get paid so little for doing real work that actually impacts lives on a daily basis.

Yet it is what it is. Supply and demand. Free market. Yada yada yada.

Of course, inequity in job salaries is nothing new. On Facebook, people love showing their righteous indignation by asking why CEO’s of a corporation should make more than people on its assembly line. Here’s the answer: it takes a different set of skills to run a company than it does to work on the line. It’s not hard to figure out.

In a perfect world, it’d be great if things were more equitable. And we’ve tried through legislation to even the playing field. But good intentions can backfire. For example, raising the minimum wage. Each time the minimum wage goes up, mostly unskilled labor enjoys a hike in pay. Don’t get me wrong: I think more money is always a good thing no matter what your position. Unless you’re one of the employees laid off as a result of it

If a small business owner has to increase pay for three of his minimum wage employees, his costs go up - he has to cover them somehow. The choices are few: raise consumer prices, which always leads to fewer consumers, or let one of his three employees go so he can give the other two the minimum wage hike.

Of course now, the other two will be earning it since they’ll be doing the work of three people.

I suppose the idea of mandatory minimum wage increases is easier for people to accept than performance based ones, using criteria like merit and value to the company as guidelines. It sounds so quaint even as I type it.

But I digress. Where was I?

Oh, right, I was getting out of advertising.

Just as soon as I can afford it.

How much is that Gold Pencil in the window?

It's no secret ad agencies like bright, shiny objects. Especially when they happen to arrive in the form of advertising awards.

Well, good news for everyone looking for something to fill up all that empty shelf space: it's awards show season.

That time of year when, without perspective, prejudice or any ability to be realistic about what work actually has a chance of being recognized, agencies frantically, desperately and with an overabundance of misplaced optimism round up almost all the ads they've done for the year and enter them.

A good friend of mine is the awards-entry wrangler at one of the largest shops in town. For years, this shop set the benchmark for creative work not just in L.A., but across the country and around the world. Sadly, for a variety of reasons - not the least of which is who used to oversee the creative and who oversees it now - this shop's glory days are at least 15 years gone. They've lost people, accounts and their reputation as a place where only greatness got out the door.

That not withstanding, this year they'll spend in the neighborhood of $200,000 on award show entries.

And yes, raises are still frozen.

Like creative work, and creatives themselves, not all awards shows are created equal. There are shows, like the One Show, that everyone wants to win. Clios are still nice to have, although their reputation has been permanently tarnished by a fiasco that happened years ago. There isn't a creative around who doesn't like to see his/her work in Communication Arts Advertising Annual. Addy Awards are regional and national - I wonder if the person who writes their copy selling the show itself is eligible? Effie awards are given for how effective the work has been. Account people love it when the agency wins those.

Here's the thing. Awards are like pizza: even when they're bad, they're still pretty good (I almost used another example but this is a family blog).

And with over, well over, 75 advertising award shows to enter, there's a lot of winning to be had. You just have to pick the proper...tier...of show to participate in.

Even though some of these shows feel like they'll go on forever when you attend them, they don't all go on indefinitely in real life. Southern California's Belding Awards and Northern California's original San Francisco Awards show are two examples.

The Beldings were scandalized years ago when a creative produced a commercial the client hadn't approved, bought time and ran it at midnight on a tv station in Palookaville, Nebraska so it would qualify, and then actually won a Belding for it. He was eventually exposed for the fraud, and it resulted in a complete overhaul of the Belding rules and requirements. The show ambled on for a few more years, then basically died because no one cared anymore.

The SFAS went away because Goodby was sweeping the show every year. It finally pissed "competing" agencies off so badly they didn't bother entering work in the show anymore.

No entry fees, no Buck Rogers.

Is it wise in these economic times to spend so much on award shows? I don't know. I do know that everyone - the teams doing the work, the creative director, the account people, the holding companies and especially the clients - love talking and pointing to their award-winning work. It does give one a sense of recognition and appreciation that's become a lost art at agencies.

The subject of the names that go on those entry forms are a whole other topic. I addressed it a little bit here, but I'll save the bigger rant about that for another post.

Instead I'll just wish everyone good luck. And if for some reason those judges can't see the brilliance in your ad, don't sweat it.

Awards shows are like buses. There'll be another one along any minute.