Encore post: Take the afternoon off

Every once in awhile on a Zoom call, my colleagues see me wearing this hat. And they always want to know the significance of 3:30. I explained it in this post about six years ago. But since I was asked again recently, I thought an encore posting might be timely.

So here you go. More than you ever wanted to know about this hat. Please to enjoy.

You might think what you're looking at is a ratty old baseball cap with 330 embroidered on it. You'd only be half right. What you're actually looking at is a collector's item.

Years ago, my colleagues and close personal friends Alan Otto, Tena Olson and I decided what America, and dare I say the world, was crying out for was another advertising agency.

And really, can you ever have enough?

So to fill the void, and to have a place to go where we could work with people and clients we like all day long, we immediately leapt into action and started getting together every Sunday morning at Starbuck's to map out our plan of attack for opening our own agency. Between lattes and banana bread, we batted around ideas how we'd differentiate our agency from the zillion others out there.

The first name we were going to go with was The Beefery. We took an old butcher cow chart, and instead of the names of the cuts we substituted clever ad terms, none of which I can remember right now. That may be why we never went with it. Under the heading of collector's items, there are also Beefery t-shirts and hats hidden away deep in some storage locker somewhere.

Anyway, we knew an agency called The Beefery wasn't going to get any vegan clients, but we were okay with that. Then, somewhere in the course of those caffeinated Sunday morning discussions, we decided to go with a name that represented something the three of us had experienced many, many times in our combined years in the business— nothing really good happens after 3:30 in the afternoon.

Ideas. Strategies. Disruptions. Pitches. Performance reviews. Client meetings. They all happen, but just not as well as they should after 3:30PM.

Our promise was we were going to get while the gettin' was good in the first three-quarters of the day. People were fresh, their creative juices flowing, they hadn't burned out yet. Every single day, we were going to hit the ground running first thing in the morning.

We'd be unstoppable. Then completely stoppable by 3:30.

Of course almost immediately it occurred to us, what with this being a "service business" and client emergencies having a timetable all their own, that clients would have a tough time buying into our philosophy. Which explains why, at the end of the day, 330 never got off the ground.

Despite that fact we continued to meet at Starbucks for months afterwards, occasionally talking about opening an agency but mostly just enjoying each other's company and the people watching.

Optimists that we were, when enthusiasm was at its highest we ponied up and had these hats made. I wear it all the time, and have to say I still like it a lot.

But not nearly as much as I like the idea of calling it a day at 3:30.

Encore post: Client rewrites

I'm doing something right now I'd advise anyone writing a blog not to do. I'm writing this post while I'm extremely pissed off. I know what you're thinking, "But Jeff, you're usually so funny and easygoing and levelheaded, what could possibly put you in such a foul mood?"

Well, I'll tell you. Clients who want to be copywriters.

There's a story I may have told before here, but it bears repeating. Paul Keye, who owned Keye Donna Perlstein, one of the great Los Angeles creative shops that isn't around anymore, wasn't just the creative director. He was also a copywriter, and a great one at that. He was presenting his work at a client meeting, and the client was being particularly dickish about it. Finally the client made some bullshit, insignificant, arbitrary change, like "the" to "a". He looked up at Paul and said, "What can I say Paul, I'm a frustrated copywriter."

To which Paul took a beat, then replied, "No, I'm the frustrated copywriter. You're an asshole."

Any copywriter who's been in the ad biz more than ten minutes has had the joyless experience of the client reworking their copy, with total disregard for what goes into creating it. Even when they like the copy, clients rarely get the nuance, cadence, subtlety, humor and rhythm of words well written. One of the most common places they take refuge is "I don't get it, how will any of our customers?"

Respect from clients for consumers intelligence is harder to find than a Christmas bonus.

Don't get me wrong: I'm sure occasionally a client will contribute something positive and helpful that doesn't make the copy sound like a strategy statement. Just like occasionally I believe I'll win the lottery, or Scarlett Johansson will return my calls.

If you think I'm painting clients in broad strokes and generalizations, take a look and listen to TV and radio commercials tonight. They were all client approved before they got there. We'll talk about the ratio of good to bad when you're done.

Originally this post was going to be about the subject of overthinking, but then I realized it's essentially the same thing. Clients examine copy with a magnifying glass the consumer will never use—assuming they even read the copy in the first place (you know the old saying).

It is endlessly frustrating with one client. The good news however is I have several who've been chiming in on how they think it should read. Copy by committee. Mmmm mmmm good.

Here's what I try to think about to keep it all in perspective. When Goodby had the notoriously bad Carl's Jr. account, they insisted on rewriting virtually everything that was presented to them. When asked about it, Jeff Goodby allegedly said, "It's a great deal. They write the copy and pay me." After it left, Goodby apologized to the staff for taking the business in the first place.

Whenever a creative chimes in with anything unflattering about the client, they're usually met with the fact that the client pays the bill and can have it the way they want. Thanks, but we already know this. I pay my doctor bills, but I don't get to tell him how to do the surgery. But then medicine isn't a collaborative sport like advertising. Which leads me to another thing: we're not curing cancer here. Don't get me started.

Here's the thing: this isn't my first rodeo. I know clients are always going to be changing copy, sometimes with the genuine intention of thinking they're making it better. And sometimes just because they're frustrated copywriters.

So I'll try to keep Jeff Goodby's comment in mind, along with my own personal motto.

The checks clear.

You break it you own it. Again.

Earlier in the evening, when I was much more awake, I was in the mood to write a new blogpost tonight. But that was then and this is now. Nonetheless I didn't want you to go to sleep without a little reading material, so I'm revisiting this little number from a couple years ago. It holds up pretty well. See if you agree.

Now that we're in the hopefully soon-to-be-ending era of the shithole president, it seems every media outlet—or fake news organization as he likes to slander them—is lousy with Breaking News stories almost every minute of every day.

Not that some of them aren't legit, what with the liar-in-chief committing several impeachable crimes and saying (or tweeting) monumentally stupid, ignorant, racist, misogynist, homophobic, climate change denying, lies, uninformed and just plain wrong things minute-by-minute on a daily basis.

But in reality, a lot of the Breaking News is just an attention getting graphic to induce us to stay tuned for not necessarily new information on ongoing stories, reports and rumors that haven't been confirmed or profiles that aren't so much breaking as being updated.

All of which got me thinking (eventually something had to) about what would actually constitute Breaking News in advertising agencies.

Client only wants to see one idea.

Breaking with tradition, a major automotive client today asked the agency to only present one idea for the global branding campaign. "We don't know what you guys are doing all day, but we have work to do. No one has time to sit through three hours of storyboards and ripomatics on ideas your creative director 'Just couldn't let go.' Show us the one and get on with it."

ManifestNO

For a recent new business pitch, none of the agency copywriters were asked to work on a manifesto. Not by the creative director. Not by the account director. Not by the general manager, although he may have tried. Cell reception is bad from the golf course.

Instead of a lofty, cleverly worded, Jeff Bridges, Alec Baldwin or Peter Coyote sound-a-like voiced statement about what the product is, means and how it impacts the world and all who come in contact with it, the unexpected decision was made to just roll the dice and show up with good work.

No insights

In what witnesses called a startling admission and an unintentional moment of truth, the agency revealed it has absolutely no insights. None. Gerard Pennysworth, Vice President of Knit Caps, Ironic T-Shirts and Global Strategic Planning was quoted as saying, "Your guess is as good as mine. I don't know why the hell anyone does what they do."

Agency gives team enough time

Used to only having 15-minute coffee breaks to create global branding campaigns, yesterday a creative team was told they'd have three weeks to come up with a single television spot. When told they were in fact not the subjects of a cruel joke, the team went into shock and required immediate medical attention.

Buzzwords not allowed

Several account people were let go today for violating the recently instituted "no buzzwords or phrases" rule. When asked if perhaps the punishment was a bit too severe, Director of Human Services and People Management Kathleen Laytoff replied, "It's always difficult to let people go, but net-net at the end of the day, they just 'laddered up' once too often."

The creative review

Here's what doesn't happen in the insurance business. A group of senior management people don't get together in a room with the underwriters every time they write a policy to evaluate how well they've done it.

"I don't know, it just seems to me you could've referenced a more recent actuarial table." "With regards to the deductible, does that line up with the property value in terms of reimbursement?" It doesn't happen in insurance, or most industries. Oh sure, someone takes a quick look before it goes out, but it doesn't have to go through committee.

Because, as any third-grader could tell you, that would be bullshit and a monumental waste of time and resources.

But in advertising, you can't underestimate people's need to be part of the process. And because creative work is the product, it's the one dance everyone likes being invited to.

If you're not familiar with creative reviews, it's where anywhere from one person to several people working on the account, near the account, in the same hallway as the account or in the building next door to the account get together and "review" the work to make sure it's on strategy, saying and doing what it's supposed to. At least that's the theory.

Now a few different things can happen in creative reviews. The work can just go through swimmingly, earning nodding heads, praise, kudos and unanimous agreement from everyone. This rarely happens.

Another way it could go is the creative director will see something strategically off point and, so as not to embarrass the creative team, gently offer up meaningful, constructive suggestions how to course correct to make the work more relevant and effective. This too is a rare occurrence.

Usually, especially if deadlines are tight (they always are) or clients are demanding (they always are), or the creative director has had their own work shot down by the client more times than Glenn Close's dreams of winning an Oscar, it's a complete and total shit show.

There are certain creative directors—although God knows, and let me make this as clear as I can, none that I work with—who just love to hear themselves talk. They laugh heartily at their own jokes, and are constantly taking trips down memory lane reliving their glory days which may or may not have ever actually happened. You can almost set a clock to it—that's right about the time they not so much critique your work as explain exactly how they'd do it. Then they ask you to take another shot at it.

Which, as anyone who's been on the receiving end of that comment will tell you is code for go back to your office—or assigned open office seating space—and do up what they just told you.

Here's the thing: I'm not Hemingway (if you follow this blog even a little you already know that). And while I'm also not a junior reporting for his first day of work, I get the process. Someone with a bigger title and pay grade has to look at the work to make sure it's hitting the marks it's supposed to. But when it's, oh, just for argument's sake let's say an overrated, egotistical, abusive, job-jumping, work-stealing, credit-grabbing, kickback-taking alcoholic who's shut down every agency they've ever worked at and wouldn't know a good idea if they fu..er...tripped over it (family blog)—again, not that I work with anyone like that—then it becomes somewhat frustrating.

On the other hand, it does make for good blog material.

Taking one for the team

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Of all the snappy little phrases that get tossed around in ad agencies, and God knows there are plenty of ‘em, the one I like least is “team player.”

Now, before you start getting your panties in a bunch, wagging your finger, stammering and screaming, “I knew it!” you might want to hear me out. Then again you might not.

My life will go on either way.

Anyway, just because I don’t like the term doesn’t mean I’m not one. For instance, I’m also not a fan of the phrase “slightly overweight” or "distinguished gray" but, well, never mind. Bad examples. The point is, as much as it goes against my grain, I’m a team player when I need to be.

New business presentations? My sleeves are rolled up, and I’m banging out manifestos and taglines faster than Bret Kavanaugh driving to a liquor store at closing time.

Client meetings? Point me towards the bagels and let me loose. I love presenting, the bigger the room the better. I have a slightly different way of measuring if it’s been a good meeting. Here it is: If I get the big laugh, it was a successful meeting. I know some people think if we sell the work or get the account that’s actually the measure of success.

Whatever. To each their own.

The off-campus pep talk/morale boosting/team building meetings? You don't have to ask me twice. I’d be there even if there weren’t luxury buses to shuttle me, and free food and liquor after. I just wouldn’t stay as long.

Where I seem to be unable to muster up one for the team is Halloween. To me, October 31st at agencies is like personalized license plates: once you’ve seen the costumes, the joke’s over. What starts out at 9 with everyone oohing and ahhhing over the costume you made winds up with everyone tired of looking at it by 9:30.

However, I have nothing but love for the team I work with. So when they decided our group would dress up as characters from iconic 90's movies, even though all my Jedi instincts were screaming no, I decided I'd do it.

I thought it would be good for me to get over my bad attitude and insecurities—and I know what you're thinking: besides my weight, bank balance, increased memory loss, receding hairline, bad skin tone, limited wardrobe, nine-year old car, complete inability to fix the simplest things around the house, having to wear glasses, feeling like an outsider, not liking sports and, did I mention weight, what do I have to be insecure about?

Perhaps I've said too much. You never read this.

The point is I eventually decided to come to work as one of my favorite characters and perpetual profile photo on Facebook—The Dude from The Big Lebowski.

I found an exact match for the Dude's bathrobe. I went not to a pop up Halloween store, but to a professional wig shop and got my long hair locks like the Dude. I bought L'Oreal Light Brown Root Control spray to match the Dude's hair color (I'll probably be hanging on to that). I bought the sunglasses and brown flip-flops to complete the look.

I was ready and set, but I didn't go. I just couldn't do it.

Was it that the look wasn't as exact and perfect as I wanted it to be? Or was it that I couldn't get past the image of me wearing a white t-shirt under the robe that, well, remember the "slightly overweight" phrase? Talk amongst yourselves.

And despite the fact I could've legitimately gotten wasted downing White Russians all day, told my creative director "Well, that's just your opinion man" and said things like "That rug really tied the room together" to stay in character, it wasn't enough for me to suit up.

But not wanting to let my colleagues down, I did finally decide to come in dressed as an older, overweight, gray-haired, married Jewish guy with kids.

I know, it was a stretch. But what can I tell you. I'm a team player.

You break it you own it

Now that we're in the hopefully soon-to-be-ending era of the shithole president, it seems every media outlet—or fake news organization as he likes to slander them—is lousy with Breaking News stories almost every minute of every day.

Not that some of them aren't legit, what with the liar-in-chief committing several impeachable crimes and saying (or tweeting) monumentally stupid, ignorant, racist, misogynist, homophobic, climate change denying, lies, uninformed and just plain wrong things minute-by-minute on a daily basis.

But in reality, a lot of the Breaking News is just an attention getting graphic to induce us to stay tuned for not necessarily new information on ongoing stories, reports and rumors that haven't been confirmed or profiles that aren't so much breaking as being updated.

All of which got me thinking (eventually something had to) about what would actually constitute Breaking News in advertising agencies.

Client only wants to see one idea.

Breaking with tradition, a major automotive client today asked the agency to only present one idea for the global branding campaign. "We don't know what you guys are doing all day, but we have work to do. No one has time to sit through three hours of storyboards and ripomatics on ideas your creative director 'Just couldn't let go.' Show us the one and get on with it."

ManifestNO

For a recent new business pitch, none of the agency copywriters were asked to work on a manifesto. Not by the creative director. Not by the account director. Not by the general manager, although he may have tried. Cell reception is bad from the golf course.

Instead of a lofty, cleverly worded, Jeff Bridges, Alec Baldwin or Peter Coyote sound-a-like voiced statement about what the product is, means and how it impacts the world and all who come in contact with it, the unexpected decision was made to just roll the dice and show up with good work.

No insights

In what witnesses called a startling admission and an unintentional moment of truth, the agency revealed it has absolutely no insights. None. Gerard Pennysworth, Vice President of Knit Caps, Ironic T-Shirts and Global Strategic Planning was quoted as saying, "Your guess is as good as mine. I don't know why the hell anyone does what they do."

Agency gives team enough time

Used to only having 15-minute coffee breaks to create global branding campaigns, yesterday a creative team was told they'd have three weeks to come up with a single television spot. When told they were in fact not the subjects of a cruel joke, the team went into shock and required immediate medical attention.

Buzzwords not allowed

Several account people were let go today for violating the recently instituted "no buzzwords or phrases" rule. When asked if perhaps the punishment was a bit too severe, Director of Human Services and People Management Kathleen Laytoff replied, "It's always difficult to let people go, but net-net at the end of the day, they just 'laddered up' once too often."

Time after time

Every ad agency has their own way of recording hours employees put toward each job. And you couldn't blame anyone for thinking that, being the creative places they are, they might have a more inspiring way of going about it.

But sadly, like insurance offices, mortgage companies, law firms and other traditional businesses, agencies use timesheets to track hours, and reconcile them against the budget and scope of the assignments.

It's the only way they can find out if they’re allocating their resources properly (laughs hysterically – they never allocate properly), and if not, fine tune them to at the very least break even.

In days of old, back around 2003, agencies still required paper timesheets. Creatives would guestimate the number of hours they put against each job (why do you think they call it creative?), and then hand them in to a smiling, welcoming HR person waiting to make sure every thing goes perfectly with regards to you getting paid for your efforts (Cough, cough, couldntcareless, cough, cough).

Digital time sheets soon followed, but even so most agencies today still require you to print a hard copy then hand it in. Which begs the question why bother with an online version at all.

Of course, agencies beg the question "Why?" all the time.

Why pitch an account they’re completely unqualified to service.

Why embarrass themselves fighting to keep an account that’s been out the door since it arrived, and is making a beeline for it no matter what they do.

Why keep hiring alcoholic posers in leadership positions who've been “quitted” from their last five jobs (perhaps I've said too much).

Online timesheets also require you to account for every minute of every day. And if you don't happen to be slammed wall to wall every day, there's always a job number for a category called "General Overhead." It's the column where you list time spent for things like Facebook, Words With Friends, watching Apple movie trailers, (ahem) writing blog posts, going to lunch and reading What Would Tyler Durden Do.

On the spreadsheet the client sees it's called Research.

The point is - and yes I have one - that it doesn't matter how well agencies manage to finesse their digital timesheet algorithms. It seems that, for the foreseeable future, even though they're going to tout the convenience and efficiency of filling out timesheets online, they're still going to want you to print out a hard copy for accounting to hang on to.

You know, for the lawsuit.

Revisionist history

With the number of revisions almost every project seems to go through now, it seems like clients are less interested in making the work better, and more interested in securing their place in the Guinness Book Of World Records.

To my colleagues in the creative department, this isn’t exactly breaking news. But what has changed is the sheer volume of revisions.

Where it once was a middle-management client trying to show how he made an invaluable contribution to the process by changing the copy from sometimes to always, it’s now evolved into a cage match to see who can initiate the most changes.

The other thing is there are now more layers than ever. There's lower-middle management. Middle-middle management. Upper-middle management. Lower-upper management, and so on. Everyone who comes in contact with the copy feels like it's in their job description to have an opinion. And of course we all know what opinions are like.

My friend Rich Siegel even paid homage to the practice of client revisions by naming his book and well-written blog Round Seventeen. Every time I see that name, all I do is wish seventeen was where the revisions stopped.

There's an old adage about clients getting the work they deserve. Or maybe it's just karma. Either way, never is that more true than when the project manager brings the deck back for revision 68 (yes, actual number).

I think I’ve posted this story before, but it’s worth posting again. One time Paul Keye, a Creative Director/Copywriter and President of his now legendary creative agency, the long gone Keye Donna Perlstein, was in a client meeting. As the client was carefully scrutinizing the copy, at one point he turned to Paul and said, “I think it would read better if we changed an to the." Seeing the reaction on Keye’s face, the client followed up with, “What can I say? I’m a frustrated copywriter.”

To which Paul Keye said, “No. I’m the frustrated copywriter. You’re an asshole."

It would all run a lot smoother if the people who had the final say had the final say the first time around. Sure, it'd mean the middle-management types would have to actually find other ways to justify their almost six-figure salaries, and titles like Assistant Vice President Of Enterprise Integrated Product Analytics & Corporate Audience Targeting.

But if they really wanted to look smart, they could do it by focusing more on their jobs and less on ours. Their job is to make sure the work is on strategy. It'd be a far better use of their time if they stuck to that. It'd also go a long way towards making their corporate overlords and the bottom line more successful.

And the agency less resentful.

Happy landings

At the recent D23 expo, a convention for all things Disney, chairman, CEO and personal friend of Rich Siegel Bob Iger announced the Magic Kingdom was going to get even more magical thanks to a property their Imagineers had nothing to do with. And their accountants had everything to do with.

To the delight of thousands of squealing fanboys, Iger said plans are underway to build a Star Wars land at Disneyland. I think it's safe to say the force and the lines will be strong with this one.

So it got me to thinking (in case you were wondering what it would take), what if advertising agencies were divvied up into lands of their own. They're already divided into departments: Creative, Account, Media, Strategy and Pizza After 7.

But I think we could segment the shops even more. Specifically:

Clientland

This is a magical land where nothing is as it seems. Yes means no. Start means stop. Good means bad. In Clientland, the rides start but for some reason stop half-way through. And on the ones that do finish, the journey isn't quite as much fun as you expected it to be. Still, at least you got to ride. There are people waiting in line who'll never get on.

Researchland

If words like intuition, gut feeling and common sense send a cold shiver down your spine - and the word spine does as well - you'll feel right at home in Researchland. Those people walking around in the black robes? They're call Extractors, and their job is to remove all the funny lines you liked because a mother of two who had some time to kill and needed a free meal didn't think it was funny. Researchland has lots of dark, twisting tunnels that look like they lead somewhere, but actually don't. Problem is you don't find that out until you've been through them. There are also lots of funhouse mirrors, where you can see people who come in but they can't see you. All they can do is kill your idea before they finish the ride. Sometimes you can actually pass through Researchland and no one will tell you. But if you see your spot and don't even recognize it, you've been there.

Meetingland

In Meetingland, the ride feels like it's never going end. The cars are designed like little conference tables, and oddly enough the decorative plastic bagels in the center that you use to steer taste just as good as real meeting bagels. Everyone in your car talks at the same time. And no matter how long you ride, the one thing you can count on is you'll end up exactly where you started.

Weekendland

The least happy attraction in the park is Weekendland. People are grouchy and wishing they were somewhere else. All the concession stands serve is crappy pizza. And when you're inside the rides, all you can think about is how good the weather is outside. In Weekendland, there are warning signs on all the rides: This ride may cause depression, time lost with your spouse and your children, and excessive bad attitudes.

Of course, just like the Magic Kingdom, you'd be able to buy an annual pass to all of these agency lands that's good all year round.

But after your first visit, you'll wish they were all blackout days.

The rude of the problem

Being interrupted is right up there on my list of pet peeves, along with paper straws, napkins made from recycled material and one-ply toilet tissue.

I think it stems from the ugly-American-in-a-foreign-land practice of thinking if you just talk louder and repeat the same thing over and over, they'll understand what you're talking about. Even though they speak a different language.

Not always, but much more often than I'd like, I work in an industry that runs on equal measure of rudeness, ego, asinine comments, loud and I know better than you do.

It usually goes like this. You'll be in a conference room, either on your first or thirty-seventh meeting of the day. You have the floor and you're speaking. Without warning or reason, someone starts talking over you. Then another person joins the chorus. Pretty soon, they're not all just trying to talk over you, they're also jockeying to talk over each other.

They don't hear or care what you're saying, because, you know, what they're saying is So. Much. More. Important. It's like those drivers on the freeway who're behind you, pass you, then pull in front of you because that one car length makes All. The. Difference.

I hate those people. And I hate when it happens - in meetings, on the road and in real life.

Apparently I'm not the only one in advertising who hates this. Linda Kaplan Thaler and Robin Koval, principals at the Kaplan Thaler agency in New York, wrote a book called The Power of Nice. In it, they point out the many times being nice in business has turned potential clients into actual ones. By the way, that's not the reason they suggest being nice - it's just a side benefit.

Don't get me wrong. There are many pleasant, decent, courteous people in the business who are just as frustrated by the rudeness and bad upbringing all too frequently on display.

They're just not in my meetings.

Letting the account go

One thing you can say for ad agencies is they're not quitters. Especially when their largest account goes into review. If they're invited to pitch it - again – there’s no doubt they'll give it everything they've got.

Even when they shouldn't.

We've all been there. First come the rumors of trouble. Then the hushed closed door management meetings. Sometimes, an email goes out letting people who work on the business know. But as a rule, they find out on their own from somewhere else. Like Adweek. Or a friend at another agency pitching the business.

When a sizable account goes into review, agencies predictably knee-jerk into "we can't just let $200 million walk out the door mode."

But sometimes they should.

I understand the economics and the responsibility to try and keep everyone employed. But there comes a time when done is done. The fat lady is singing.

The problem is most agencies don't hear her.

The rank and file, people working on an account day in and day out, have a much finer honed ability to take the client's temperature than management. They know when the ground shifts and something doesn't feel right. They've seen it coming weeks if not months before management. Sometimes they've even sounded a warning.

But when it comes to management hearing about the possibility of losing business, denial ain't just a river.

From a new VP of Marketing to the client's wife not liking the work, there are a million reasons accounts go into review. Agencies always feel if they can just give it one more go, they can really understand the problem and come up with a solution.

And granted, on rare occasions, they can.

But sometimes what the client is looking for most from the agency is to be taken at their word.

Even if that word is goodbye.

Clients, like dogs, smell fear and desperation. And the scent is never stronger than an incumbent agency fighting for business, or begging for the chance to fight for business, at all costs - including its dignity, reputation and morale of its employees.

You know what's worse than losing a piece of business? Trying to rally the troops with false and tired arguments like "it's a level playing field", or "our client is working for us on the inside", then grinding everyone for weeks or months with them knowing full well it's gone regardless of what they do.

I suppose there's an argument to be made it's a few more weeks of work before the first round of layoffs. But like I said, the people bound to be most effected have already seen it coming. They're usually ahead of the curve on calls to headhunters and other agencies (especially ones pitching the business) .

Advertising is a business that rewards imaginative thinking, and punishes realistic thinking when it’s needed most. Pride before a fall.

What agencies should do, especially when business is good and clients are satisfied, is have an ongoing open and transparent new business directive everyone can take ownership in. After all, management isn't the only one in the agency capable of cultivating connections beyond the agency's doors. Leads can come from any department.

And if the lead pans out, you get coffee. Because coffee is for closers.

Wouldn't it be better to spend all the money they'll inevitably pour into a review on new business pursuits throughout the year, so when one account finally does decide to leave the agency isn't crippled by it. Better to have ten $2 million dollar accounts than one $20 million dollar one.

Of course, when an agency does have to fight for a piece of business, it usually brings in a ton of freelancers for a fresh perspective. It's always a good gig, and keeps their bank balance happy for quite a while.

On second thought, just disregard this post.

The client your client could smell like

No one's more cynical about advertising than people who create it. We're like comedians sitting at the bar in back of the the Comedy Store while the other acts are on, daring you to make us laugh.

But when a creative team manages to run the gauntlet of junior account executives, account supervisors, the management supervisor, the acd, the gcd, the ecd and actually get their awesome idea made, it's an inspiration to everyone trying to do the same thing.

You earn our loyalty and appreciation. You took a renegade "what if?" idea, hopped the fence and escaped the compound. You won the lottery by getting it produced and at the same time raising the bar for the rest of us.

You understand you either get busy living or get busy dying (yes, I went Shawshank on you).

Whenever a spot breaks through creatively and culturally, it instantly becomes the example clients point to and say, "Where's MY (insert Apple/BMW/Old Spice/Other great spot) commercial? Why can't you guys do one of those?"

Here's why.

It's because of you. Your lack of vision and aversion to risk. Your fear of failure intertwined with your ego. Your overall cowardice and inherent stupidity that makes you think you're protecting your job when you're guaranteeing your expiration date.

I believe deep down you really want a spot that smells like Old Spice. The problem is you'll only approve ones that smell like Olive Garden.

The great ideas, like great clients, aren't bound by rules. And lest you get the wrong idea, I know and believe there are incredibly visionary, unfrightened and bold clients out there. I've worked with some of them. And I see the work others approve.

They're clients who not only want the Apple spot, they embody the philosophy of it.

Did I have an idea I loved shot down? I'm not saying I did, but I'm not saying I didn't. Anyway, it's just the mood I'm in tonight. From the cleaning lady on three to the client's wife to a creative director who won't let it out the door, there are a million ways for an idea to die.

So let me apologize for the rant. And the lecture. So uncharacteristic, I know. Maybe it's time to lighten the mood with a little comic relief from the spot your spot could be.