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.

Encore post: Ass scratching' nomad

Before I tell you how "ass scratchin' nomad" became my new favorite saying, let's talk about the picture.

If you're a regular reader—and if you are you should get out more often—you know each post usually has a large, relevant photo centered at the top.

But I felt, and I believe you will too, that no one needed to see this particular picture any larger than it is.

Just so you know, the photo isn't of the person I'll be talking about. Butt the action is (see what I did there?).

Because our agency has grown so fast, there are now more people than there is space for them all (still waiting for them to ask me for recommendations about who to tie the can to-don't get me started). Anyway, an individual at my agency, who doesn't have an actual desk or workspace to call his own, wanders around from desk to desk and person to person doing whatever the fuck it is he does there.

So get this: apparently while he was discussing business with someone at the agency, he was leaning on the end of their desk, with his elbows in front of him, and his low-riding blue-jeaned derriere sticking out in the aisle between desks.

And while that may have been a comfortable position for him to discuss business, it wasn't exactly the best view for the individual sitting at the desk directly behind him.

Little did they know the view was about to get a lot worse.

Apparently Mr. No Office had an itch to scratch. So, being cultured and part of polite society, he quickly excused himself, went to find some privacy in the men's room, and discreetly attended to the need.

I'm just messin' with you. He crammed his hand down his pants, under the waistband, and scratched his sweaty, unwashed ass for longer than anyone wanted to watch.

It's the kind of slick move legends are made of. It's also the kind of story that spreads like wildfire through an agency.

I share an office just down the way from where the ass-scratching incident occurred. With me in our one-window, no-view office are three roommates. One of them happens to be an extremely funny writer. Wait, I meant another extremely funny writer.

When the story of the ass scratching eventually made its way to our office, my fellow writer was mortified. She couldn't believe someone would do that kind of thing out in the open for everyone to see. I don't remember her exact words, but it was something to the effect of, "As if the job isn't hard enough, now I have to worry about seeing some ass-scratchin' nomad when I'm walking in the office."

BAM! My new favorite phrase was born.

If you know anything about me, you know I'll often take a phrase or joke I like, hang on to it like a rodeo rider and run it into the ground until people know I'm going to say it before I do. If you think I'm kidding, go back through my posts and see if you can count how many times you see the words "high school girlfriend."

True to form, every day since I heard it, I've been trying to work "ass scratchin' nomad" into my office conversation at least once a day.

So thank you to my writer roommate for a line I'm having immense fun with, and that cracks me up every time I think about it.

When we were discussing the event, someone said the moral of the story is if you're going to scratch an itch like that, maybe you ought to find a more discreet place to do it. But I think that's all wrong.

The moral of the story is don't shake hands with him.

Cameo appearance

Here’s the dilemma I find myself in every October.

It just so happens the wife’s birthday and our wedding anniversary fall four short shopping days apart. And as I’ve been reminded many times, under no circumstances will one gift stretch across those four days to cover both occasions.

So because I love my bride as much as I do, and don't want to get docked marriage points, I spend a great deal of time and careful thought deciding what would be the perfect presents to get her. Usually they’re very specific gifts for each event. However this year, I had an idea for a gift for both that would be the same, but different.

”Mom! Dad’s talking in riddles again!” Fine. I’ll explain.

Because I know you commit each and every fabulous post on here to memory, you may reacall reading about the wife and I recently bingeing The Sopranos twice in a row, back to back. And besides the headliners, she has a couple characters she really likes.

One is Johnny “Sack” Sacrimoni, underboss of the Lupertazzi crime family, elegantly played by Vincent Curatola.

The other is Ralphie Cifaretto, member of the DiMeo crime family, viciously played by Joey “Pants” Pantoliano.

Because the wife and I had gone hard down The Sopranos rabbit hole, watching all the YouTube clips, listening to all the episodes of the Talking Sopranos podcast, reading all of creator David Chase’s interviews about that remarkably unsatisfying series ending, I thought a Sopranos-related gift would be in order.

Thanks to my son, young Mr. Spielberg, I'd been the recipient of a Cameo.com video for one my birthdays a while back. For those of you unfamiliar with Cameo, it’s a site where, for a fee, the actors, comedians, musicians, politicians and more celebrities ranging from A to D list will make a short video to give as a gift for whatever occasion you choose. If you're willing to pony up more, they'll even do a live call with you.

I decided to see who was available from The Sopranos, and come to find out Vince and Joey Pants were both on Cameo. I gave them each a short write up about my wife, told them what the occasion was and generally what I'd like them to say.

A hit list if you will. See what I did there?

Cameo says to give the talent five to seven days to get a video back to you, but both Vincent and Joey had the videos back to me within a couple hours. And both gentlemen were generous with their time and messages, going more than four times the average video length.

Needless to say, the wife was thrilled and surprised and loved both videos.

So if you're looking for a gift that's a little more personal and off the beaten path, I highly recommend perusing Cameo and checking it out. With celebrities ranginng from Snoop Dogg to Kevin Pollak to Richard Schiff to Paula Poundstone to NOT Tom Cruise, there's something for just about everyone.

And should your tastes run a little more to the marketing side, and you're willing to pay for a creative director/copywriter to record a short video for a loved one, I'm pretty sure that can be arranged too.

Raised by MadMen

This one’s going to be short and sweet. And it isn’t going to be so much a blogpost as a love letter.

The best way I can describe it is this: I had a moment out of time today. After not having seen or really talked to them in too many years, I found myself sitting at lunch with two of the most influential men in my career and my life.

One of them—an advertising Hall of Fame legend—saw something in me I didn’t see in myself, and gave me an unexpected and life-changing opportunity when he made me the first junior copywriter ever at Wells Rich Greene/West.

The other—a highly accomplished and award-winning creative director, and now internationally acclaimed photographer and artist—showed me how to navigate the new responsibilities that came with the title. The essentials, like how to treat, respect and direct talent. The steps involved in producing a television spot.

Both of them lavished encouragement on me, allowed me to let my imagination and humor run wild, reigned me in when needed, made a real writer out of me and always had my back. Together, they taught me the importance of being a decent, inclusive, caring man in a business with no shortage of the opposite kind.

I was sitting at lunch today with two men who are forever a part of my fabric and I love dearly: Howie Cohen and Alan Kupchick.

My wife, who worked with Alan at the agency where we met, and later for Howie at his agency, was also there. Together the four of us filled in the memory blanks on names, events and stories, of which there were just as many we got to as we didn’t.

There are very few occasions in life where the saying "time flies when you're having fun" actually applies. But as Howie put it, it was a three-hour lunch that felt like three minutes.

Yes it was. And I can’t wait for our next three minutes.

With friends like these

Say what you will about advertising…no, really, say what you will. I’ll wait here. Okay, now that you’ve got it out of your system we’ll begin.

Advertising has lots of currencies depending on what time of day it is. Sometimes the currency is liquor. Occasionally it’s pizza. Once in awhile it’s the camaraderie that can only come from sitting in a dark, cold edit bay for 57 hours straight.

But the most valuable, most consistent currency in the biz is, always has been and always will be relationships.

There’s an old idiom (Who’re you calling an idiom? – BAM!) that tells you to be nice to people on the way up cause you’ll see the same ones on the way down.

Funny story. The other day I ran into someone where I’m working who I worked with at another agency. I haven’t seen this person in about three years, but he recognized me and greeted me like we were long lost war buddies, shaking my hand like it was an Arkansas water pump and asking how I was. He could not have been happier to see me.

I actually felt sorry for him, because - even though I'm not a doctor - I could tell immediately he was suffering from an serious case of amnesia. At that other agency, he was a creative director and I was a freelance copywriter. Many times I had occasion to present work to him, only to have it shot down in what I would consider an unnecessarily arrogant and rude manner.

Clearly, his amnesia has made him forget that when we worked together, he treated me like, oh, what’s the word…oh yes. Shit.

My guess, and I'm going out on a limb here, is that his newfound fondness for me is because he was unceremoniously fired from that other agency, and has been forced to take a sudden deep dive into the freelance pool. Waters which I've been swimming in for a long time.

But, and here's an example of how much I've grown and how mature I can be if I really try, I want to give him the same benefit of the doubt I hope anyone would give me. He may be a different person now than when we worked together. Perhaps he's grown as an individual and creative person. He might be more confident in his talents, and therefore has no reason to treat people the way he treated me in the past.

So I'm going to step up, put my big boy pants on, be the bigger man and let bygones be bygones.

I know you're waiting for the zinger put down at the end here. But not today. Today I'm about forgiveness and generosity to someone who treated me badly in the past.

Which is why I'm not telling him my day rate. It would only upset him.

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."

I read the whole thing

I can't believe I was there for the whole thing. Well, not the whole thing. But a lot of it.

Let me back it up a bit. It's not often I'll start a book and read it cover to cover in one sitting. But I had a feeling that was going to happen with I Can't Believe I Lived The Whole Thing by my mentor, and the man who gave me my copywriting career, Howie Cohen.

As I've written before, you can blame it on him.

There are two reasons I got through the book faster than Brett Kavanaugh driving to a liquor store near closing time. First, if I can be honest, I wanted to see if my name was in it. Spoiler alert: it's not. Apparently I haven't had the impact on Howie's life that he's had on mine.

Whatever. We move on.

The other is I couldn't put it down.

As reads go, this is a great one. The true story of an advertising legend and Hall Of Famer—did I mention he gave me my start—Howie brings the mad men days of the business in New York to life in vivid, humorous and detailed fashion.

I didn't meet Howie until he moved to L.A. and I worked with him at Wells Rich Greene. I was witness to a lot of the stories he tells in the book. And the ones I wasn't I heard the first time straight from him. Like Mary Wells bringing him and partner Bob Pasqualina into her office, and in front of clients threatening to hang them out to dry for something impolitic they said in a New York Times interview. And I still use the line, "Please excuse the leather smell." when people get in my car.

It'll make sense when you read it.

Here's the thing: I've known Howie for two thirds of my life. His influence on my path cannot be overstated. I know a lot of people have worked with him, and they all like to claim him as their own. It's understandable, I do it too. But only because I'm entitled to because I knew him first.

His book captures the craziness, creativity, relationships, frustrations and rewards of the ad biz in a way only someone who has lived it at the top can. Whether you're in the business or not, it's a great story that'll have you laughing out loud and shaking your head there was actually a time like that.

Personally, I got to relive some of the best times of my professional life (stopping to laugh for using the word professional). As I was reading, I remembered stories Howie told me I hoped would be in the book, and they are. Moments I was there for—like another legend, Mary Wells, addressing the staff after the loss of the Jack In The Box account. And there are the personal battles Howie's fought and won that I never knew about. He reveals them with a disarming rawness and honesty.

Even though my name's not in the book, there are lots of other names that I know and have worked with. And while Howie and I have differing opinions on some of them, it's fun to read his take.

Howie's always had greatness about him, and he's as true to who he is as anyone I've ever known.

You can see it on every page.

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.

Ass scratchin' nomad

Before I tell you how "ass scratchin' nomad" became my new favorite saying, let's talk about the picture.

If you're a regular reader—and if you are you should get out more often—you know each post usually has a large, relevant photo centered at the top.

But I felt, and I believe you will too, that no one needed to see this particular picture any larger than it is.

Just so you know, the photo isn't of the person I'll be talking about. Butt the action is (see what I did there?).

Because our agency has grown so fast, there are now more people than there is space for them all (still waiting for them to ask me for recommendations about who to tie the can to-don't get me started). Anyway, an individual at my agency, who doesn't have an actual desk or workspace to call his own, wanders around from desk to desk and person to person doing whatever the fuck it is he does there.

So get this: apparently while he was discussing business with someone at the agency, he was leaning on the end of their desk, with his elbows in front of him, and his low-riding blue-jeaned derriere sticking out in the aisle between desks.

And while that may have been a comfortable position for him to discuss business, it wasn't exactly the best view for the individual sitting at the desk directly behind him.

Little did they know the view was about to get a lot worse.

Apparently Mr. No Office had an itch to scratch. So, being cultured and part of polite society, he quickly excused himself, went to find some privacy in the men's room, and discreetly attended to the need.

I'm just messin' with you. He crammed his hand down his pants, under the waistband, and scratched his sweaty, unwashed ass for longer than anyone wanted to watch.

It's the kind of slick move legends are made of. It's also the kind of story that spreads like wildfire through an agency.

I share an office just down the way from where the ass-scratching incident occurred. With me in our one-window, no-view office are three roommates. One of them happens to be an extremely funny writer. Wait, I meant another extremely funny writer.

When the story of the ass scratching eventually made its way to our office, my fellow writer was mortified. She couldn't believe someone would do that kind of thing out in the open for everyone to see. I don't remember her exact words, but it was something to the effect of, "As if the job isn't hard enough, now I have to worry about seeing some ass-scratchin' nomad when I'm walking in the office."

BAM! My new favorite phrase was born.

If you know anything about me, you know I'll often take a phrase or joke I like, hang on to it like a rodeo rider and run it into the ground until people know I'm going to say it before I do. If you think I'm kidding, go back through my posts and see if you can count how many times you see the words "high school girlfriend."

True to form, every day since I heard it, I've been trying to work "ass scratchin' nomad" into my office conversation at least once a day.

So thank you to my writer roommate for a line I'm having immense fun with, and that cracks me up every time I think about it.

When we were discussing the event, someone said the moral of the story is if you're going to scratch an itch like that, maybe you ought to find a more discreet place to do it. But I think that's all wrong.

The moral of the story is don't shake hands with him.

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."

The 12th of never

As I've said many times here, I'm the least disciplined writer you know. I'm not proud, but I am consistent. To that end, you'll be glad to know that finely honed, well practiced lack of discipline carries over into many other areas of my life as well.

Here's the thing: I had big plans coming into 2018. A whole new me in almost every aspect. Extreme makeover, Jeff edition. While I didn't voice my ambitious plans to a lot of people, I did make a list for myself. Reviewing that list now, it really begs the question— is it really breaking a resolution if you never started it?

In what seems like a nanosecond, I suddenly find myself halfway through January, and I'm already checking things off my evil twin list.

Not walking every day. Check.

Not working out. Check.

Not riding my bike. Check.

Still carrying on a torrid love affair with bread. Check.

Still cheating on bread with sugar. Check.

But it's not just the personal improvement goals and deadlines I'm not accomplishing. I'm not accomplishing so much more than that. In fact, I can not accomplish more in a day than most people can't do in a month.

Simple things like reorganizing my dresser drawers so they're not all "that drawer."

Making the bed every day, although the 90 lb. German Shepherd laying on it doesn't make it any easier.

Cleaning out the garage.

Emptying the boxes from the remodel still in the garage.

Reorganizing shelf space in the garage.

Putting a window in the garage.

Putting up the wi-fi extender in the garage.

Clearly the garage is a thorn in my side, and perhaps my inability to get to it and put it in order represents a more significant issue that needs to be dealt with.

Which begs a different question: Who asked you?

Anyway, it doesn't take a stable genius to see the pattern of avoidance and denial, two qualities I'm far more comfortable with than I should be.

I don't want you to get the wrong idea, although it may be too late for that. This may ruin my underachiever reputation, but since the new year I actually did manage to get two new pair of glasses, a haircut and the flu. So there's that.

But when it comes to my New Year's list, I'm going to file it all under better late than never, and not wait another year before I think about addressing all those chores and promises. I'm going to pull myself up by my own bootstraps, if I can find them in the garage, and take care of them in the most timely way I know how.

Tomorrow.

Do I stay or do I go

I’ve always had great admiration for people who have more than one skill set they can make a living with. For example, my late, great friend George Roux was an art director, illustrator, commercial director and photographer. And he was equally adept at all of them. Damn him.

The problem is, the only thing I can really do is write. And depending on who you talk to, or if you've followed this blog for any length of time, even that's a little shaky.

Like so many of my colleagues, I occasionally entertain the idea of leaving advertising and moving on to a new challenge. Usually during status meetings, listening to account planners giving their insights or staff meetings where management tells everyone how great the new open office seating will be.

Don’t get me wrong: it’s not that copywriting hasn’t been good to me or isn’t challenging, but occasionally a restlessness sets in and I start thinking there might be something else that would be even more rewarding. It’s the same way I felt about my high school girlfriend.

Because there isn't much money in bingeing Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul, The Americans and House Of Cards, I started thinking about other things to do besides what I’m doing.

Here’s a partial list:

Crowd Estimator

I’ve always been good with numbers. I figure I could be that guy they cut to on the local news at concerts or sporting events. “Jeff, that looks like quite a gathering at the stadium tonight.” “That’s right Bill, I’d say there’s about 15,000 people here for the big show.” Then I’d get in the car and go home. Good gig.

Tire Store owner

I love tire stores. That new rubber smell, the S, T, H, V, ZR, W and Y speed ratings (note to Prius owners: S is all you need). What’s not to like about a job where you can toss around words like lug nuts and lateral run out (that's shimmy to you civilians). Not to mention the go-to jokes about being "under pressure" all the time. BAM! I’ll be here all week.

Fortune Cookie Writer

Here’s a gig that capitalizes on experience I already have—always a good thing. Play to my strength. Also, it’s one sentence at a time. That works well for me. Just a quick zinger, something uplifting, hopeful and funny in six or seven words. Besides, my wife used to be VP of Marketing for Panda Express. I already speak fortune cookie.

Ticket Taker

Whenever the discussion turns to creating jobs, this is one I always think of. Unnecessary and easy (did I use the high school girlfriend joke yet?), I’d be great at this. Movie theaters, Broadway theaters or even parking lots, I’d take the tickets with flair and a smile. There’s really not a lot of time for conversation since everyone’s in a hurry, which is fine by me. If you’ve ever been with me in an elevator, you know sometimes conversation is the last thing I want.

Couples picture taker

This one seems obvious, and yet you don't see a lot of them. Ok, you know when you're with your significant other at Disneyland, a concert, on vacation or at a restaurant, and you take either bad selfies or shots of the two of you individually? I'd be the guy wearing the resort uniform, just walking the grounds looking for people doing that and then saying, "I'll take that for you." One or two clicks, and I'm off to save the next vacation memory. I'd meet people, get exercise, learn about all sorts of photographic equipment and probably have a good tan at the end of it all.

You may have noticed the one alternative career choice not on the list is professional blogger. There are a couple of reasons for that.

First, I know for a fact there's no money in it. And second, have you read this blog lately?

Round here

You may have noticed I haven't written a new post in a while (undisciplined).

And frankly, there have been a lot of reasons for that (laziness).

I've been unbelievably busy with work (couch potato). I've had family obligations (binge watching). I've been concentrating on other projects (lotto tickets).

But I did want to take a few minutes out of my busy schedule (napping) to do something I have never done before—offer a bit of advice to my fellow blogger and swing dance instructor Rich Siegel over at Round Seventeen.

Now, normally I don't make it my business to tell anyone else how to do theirs. I don't give other parents advice on how to raise their kids, although God knows with the devil spawn some of them have unleashed on the planet they could use it. I don't offer relationship advice, even though I know the secret to a long and trouble-free relationship most married men find out soon enough involves two words: Yes dear.

But since Rich is a friend of mine, I want the best for him and his blog because, and I think if you're followed me for any length of time and gotten past the crippling disappointment, you know I'm a giver.

So here's the advice: It's time to change the name of your blog. Not that Round Seventeen isn't a fine name, but based on my personal experience as of late, I don't think it's an accurate one anymore.

I can't remember the last time copy got routed less than seventeen times. For starters, once I've used up the entire three to four hours I get to craft a compelling brand story people will relate to, find humor in and want to know more about, it first has to get routed through several of what I like to euphemistically call layers.

The account team.

Strategy.

Account planner.

Product specialist.

Legal.

Associate creative director.

Group creative director.

Proofreading.

Executive creative director.

The cleaning lady on three.

And, if I'm lucky, then it finally makes its way to the client.

That's ten stops it has to make before it gets out the door. And if any of those people have a change, suggestion, idea, whim, opinion, thinks something's missing, thinks something else should be included, forwards a suggestion (mandatory) from the client or just. doesn't. get. it., then, as if I'd written it on a boomerang, it comes back to me for revisions.

After they're made, some well-meaning, highly intelligent, over-worked, underpaid and incredibly organized project manager gets to route it through all those people again. And again. And again.

Every time an "and" gets added. A "the" needs to be included. Disclaimers have to be changed (as if anyone reads them-thanks legal). Something gets underlined. A word gets bolded. An accolade gets deleted. Whatever the change, the copy suits up and does another lap.

By the time it gets back to me to sign off on, we're on round twenty eight. At least. Of course, as any writer in an agency will tell you, it'd be great if it stopped at twenty-eight. But sadly, predictably, it doesn't.

What people don't know about advertising is it's a lot like Groundhog's Day—the same assignments keep coming back over and over until the powers that be decide it's been watered down, legalesed and tamed enough to make it out the door to the client for their changes. I mean approval.

Now, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. And as I read this over, I see that would be easy to do. Great work, classic advertising, the kind you remember and talk about for years—I'm looking at you Apple 1984 spot—doesn't happen the first time out. I'm fairly certain anything good I've done and I'm proud of took plenty of victory laps around the agency before it saw the light of day. So I do realize in some cases, this painstaking and often frustrating process has its upside.

Anyway Rich, you don't have to do it today, but you probably want to think about a more realistic number for the old blog title. Of course I suppose it's possible a writer of your caliber may not have to go more than seventeen rounds.

And if that's the case, just forget I said anything.

Goodbye Jack Riley

As I wrote about here, I've been blessed to have worked with some of the greatest voiceover talent ever to set foot behind a microphone.

Sadly, today one of them—a legend, and one of my favorites—departed for that great recording booth in the sky.

Most people remember Jack Riley from his role as Elliott Carlin on the original Bob Newhart show. I'll always remember him for the many times we worked together on my radio spots over the years.

I was introduced to Jack early in my career (in the loosest sense of the word), and he instantly became part of my repertory voiceover group (every copywriter has one) that I loved to work with, and used in every spot I could. Jack, together with his dry, droll, sarcastic, hilarious reads elevated my scripts to a place they never could've gotten to with the words alone.

Besides being hilariously funny and fast, he was an incredibly kind man. Early on he patiently took direction from this junior copywriter who hadn't done much radio. He was gracious and thoughtful, hearing me out and offering nuanced suggestions about how he could make it better. Funnier. More memorable. Did I say funnier?

Tonight, my guess is Jack is in Studio C at HeavenSound Recording, along with a few other former members of my rep company like Gary Owens, Joanie Gerber and Bob Ridgely. Not sure who the client is, but I hope whoever booked the session added a nice long bumper. There's going to be a lot of improvising and laughter before the first take.

Thank you Jack for your kindness, your patience, your availability in every sense, and showing me how a true professional does it.

Rest in peace.

An open letter to J.J. Abrams: Keep Chekov alive

Dear J.J.,

Having been a Trekkie since the original series, I can still feel the bolt of pain and sorrow that shot through me when the news broke about the sudden, untimely, unimaginably bizarre death of Anton Yelchin. I can only imagine the sadness of those, like you, who knew him, worked with him and loved him.

I've read your statements about the fate of Chekov in the next Star Trek movie, and I understand your not wanting to recast the character. But when the reason you give is Anton deserves better, I have to respectfully disagree.

I believe the best way to honor him and his work is to make sure the character of Checkov continues.

There have been many instances of actors who've played iconic characters extraordinarily well, then passed away.

Most recently Heath Ledger comes to mind.

Until Ledger, nobody thought there could ever be another Joker after Jack Nicolson. And until Jared Leto, the idea of someone besides Ledger playing Joker was unthinkable.

Each performance builds on the last. Each honors the prior characterization. And while the original Star Trek members thankfully didn't meet an untimely death, you've already recast them all (brilliantly) in three movies.

Leonard Nimoy passed the mantle to Zachary Quinto, whose extraordinary portrayal of Spock is testament to Nimoy's work in every frame.

Pavel Chekov is an essential part of the Star Trek cannon, an indispensable crew member whose very presence on screen honors Anton's work and memory.

Of course I didn't know Anton. But being a copywriter, creative director and card-carrying member of SAG-AFTRA, I do know actors. I'm certain he didn't work as hard as he did to create his interpretation of Chekov, only to have the character die with him.

I'd ask that for the fans, and for Anton's legacy, you reconsider recasting the role. And in doing so, assuring both Anton and Chekov continue to boldly live on.

Headline story

Every copywriter has one. A headline they want to use, wish they'd used or are waiting to use. Usually these headlines, often never presented or sold, do nothing more than amuse the writer to no end. But here's the deal. If you work in an agency owned by a holding company (almost all are), with knit-capped, British-accented account planners droning on about consumer insights ("they want to 'engage' with the product - is social here?"), where every third word in kick-off meetings is disruption, then sometimes a good laugh is all you can hope for.

At one of the many agencies I work at fairly frequently that has a Japanese car account and is near a mall (no, not that one- the other one), I went out to lunch with a couple of my fellow copywriters. We went to this sushi place I can never remember the name of. It's one of two sushi places we lunch at. There's gas station sushi, the restaurant in the strip mall behind the Arco station with no parking, then there's the expensive sushi place in the industrial park with lots of parking. Who needs names? The expensive sushi place is where we were when this exchange took place.

The three of us wound up in a discussion of headlines we've always wanted to use. We all tossed out ones we'd thought of, and then my copywriter friend Victoria had one that still makes me laugh just thinking about it.

"What's wrong with you?" I almost did a spit-take.

I know, onscreen it probably doesn't come off that funny, and you did have to be there because ninety-percent of it was the way she delivered it. Without missing a beat, and with that annoyed I'm-asking-you-honestly-because-I-can't-figure-out-what-the-hell-you're doing-or-saying tone of voice. Plus the fact it just struck me as a perfect line for any client or product.

I don't usually invite my readers (pauses to laugh for imagining this blog has readers) to chime in, but I'd love to know some headlines you've always wanted to use. Post them here in the comments, or on my Facebook page where you probably linked from.

Just to make it interesting, when I get a good number of lines - assuming I get any - I'll put 'em to a vote. The writer whose headline gets the most votes wins a free lunch at the expensive sushi place with the good parking.

It's not like you were going to be using them anyway. So dust 'em off and send 'em in. If you don't, it means Victoria's going to be enjoying another sushi lunch.

And I'll be sitting here waiting to ask you one question.

Ghostwriter

The wide and raging river of taglines, headlines, subheads, subject lines, pre-headers, bold lead-ins, body copy, banner ads, manifestos, landing pages, social media posts, positioning statements and concept write-ups seems to flow on endlessly no matter which ad agency I happen to find myself at.

This of course is an excellent situation for a freelancer, because when the river dries up so does the bank account.

But as any copywriter will tell you, occasionally you have to deal with a bout of what real writer’s who aren’t creating a legacy of garbage (Legacy Of Garbage ©Janice MacLeod) refer to as writer’s block. For whatever reason, sometimes the words that make America buy just aren’t there when you need them.

Which is fine if you’re writing a snarky little blog only nine people read, and then only when reruns of the Bachelorette aren’t on. But when you’re a hired gun up against a deadline, there are no excuses. If the words aren’t there you have to go out and find them.

Fortunately I know just where to look. To my son James.

They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. But I don’t have an apple tree, because it attracts rats to the backyard and I have a black thumb and would probably kill it anyway. And who wants to eat apples that fall off a rat-infested tree into the dirt. There’s not enough Dawn and Brillo to get them clean enough for me to eat. Don't get me started on the worms.

I may have wandered off track here.

My son is a great writer. He's unburdened by strategy briefs, client concerns, nervous account people, award-whore creative directors, account planners whispering sweet nothing in his ear – and I do mean nothing. He just likes to make up fun lines. So on those rare occasions when I need to get a fresh, untarnished perspective because my brain has gone into vapor lock, I just give him a call and tell him what I need.

Give me some car headlines that talk about performance. Knock out a few lines for this video game. I need something for a hotel in half an hour.

He always delivers.

I'd like to think he gets his writing talent from my side of the family, but I think it's just who he is. Screenwriting major, hello? This is a kid who's not afraid of throwing it out there and seeing what happens.

So, to the agencies I work for now, and will in the future, rest assured that when it comes to writing copy for your prestigious clients, and even your lesser ones, I'm going to give it everything I've got. Including my first born.

Travelin' man

Depending how much you enjoy packing five days worth of clothes into a carry-on, TSA pat downs, crying babies (on the plane, not at the agency), and off brand hotels your per diem more than covers (always a bad sign), travel can be one of the better perks of working at an advertising agency.

In the early stages of my career (pauses to consider fraudulent use of the word "career"), it seemed everyone was looking for a reason to walk the jetway as often as possible. It usually boiled down to one of three: an out-of-town client meeting, shooting on location (“We open on the Eiffel Tower...”) and the occasional new business pitch (“Every agency needs a casino…”).

A fourth reason that comes up a few times a year is award shows (Cannes) and seminars (wherever Adweek’s having one this week), but those are usually reserved for agency brass. After all they're the ones who've been working on their acceptance speech for your work for a couple weeks, so they should at least get to go.

Traveling for work on someone else’s dime is an easy inconvenience to get used to. Right up until you come home and realize the baby you left a week ago grew two inches while you were away.

Or you missed the piano recital your middle-schooler has been practicing for two months.

And that thing you wanted to do around the house didn’t get done by itself.

Travel happens to be on my mind because I’m currently on an out-of-town gig in San Francisco. A city I love, working with people I enjoy a great deal. If I wasn’t being put up in a hotel that's like the Hotel Earle in Barton Fink - without the warmth - the trip would be perfect.

Since the advent of digital, email and FaceTime, the need to travel doesn’t rear its head very often. I’ve worked for agencies in cities all across the country right from the pampered poodle comfort of my own living room. And let’s just say when I did I was always dressed for the office. Mine, not theirs.

For whatever reason, this San Francisco agency, who I’ve worked with from home for a year and a half, decided for this particular project they wanted me in the office live and in person this week. Happy to oblige.

So here’s the bottom line: Yes I miss the dog (when he’s behaving). Yes I miss the family (when they're behaving). I do miss having my own car (when it's behaving), although I’m getting to be the Lyft king of San Francisco and now know more about Lyft drivers than I ever wanted to.

On the flip side, at the end of the day, I get to walk out the door, be smacked in the face by the breeze coming in off the bay, and I'm in San Francisco. I like to file this under "things could be worse."

To sum it up then, travel is good this time. Missing home is tolerable (I'll be back tonight). I'm in a great city, with lots of chowder and sourdough. And, most importantly, the checks clear.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go present a storyboard to the creative director.

In the first frame, we open on the Eiffel Tower.

Goodbye Garry

I had lunch with Garry Shandling in New York.

Years ago, the wife and I had gone back to visit our friend Kevin, who was living there and working on SNL at the time. We were going to meet him and his wife at the time for lunch at the now defunct Cafe Des Artistes. When we were confirming lunch, Kevin said, "I hope you don't mind, but I invited Shandling and one of his writers to join us."

We were good with it.

We all met at the restaurant, and there was an additional person at the table who I didn't know. Come to find out later he was the president of PETA, which Kevin's wife was very involved with.

Shandling sat next to my wife, and, either not knowing or not caring, spent most of the lunch talking to her and hitting on her. As you might imagine, it was hysterical.

I don't remember many of the lines, but at one point, obviously for the PETA president's benefit, he asked my wife, "I want to get a new haircut, but I'm nervous about how it'll look so I want to try it out on my dog first. Is that considered animal testing?"

A few weeks later, the wife and I were shopping on Montana Avenue in Santa Monica (where we lived at the time), and we wandered into this antique furniture store. We were looking at one of those two-person desks when Shandling walked in. We reminded him we'd all had lunch in New York, and had a nice conversation with him for about twenty minutes.

Here are a couple things he told us: he started out as a copywriter in New York, and ironically had written on Suntory Whiskey - an account I'd worked on at Wells Rich Greene early in my career (stops to laugh hysterically for using the word "career").

Early in 1998, I sat down and wrote two episodes of his influential and landmark Larry Sanders Show. I thought they were pretty good, and I asked Kevin if he'd read them and, if he liked them, would he mind passing them on to Garry.

Well, there's good news and bad news. The good news is Kevin liked the scripts. The bad news was it was right at the point when Garry was pulling the plug on the show. In comedy, timing is everything.

A couple years ago, the wife and I saw Shandling again at Kevin's birthday party. While it was a star-studded affair, we both felt a personal connection to him. We didn't know him well, but we'd been fortunate enough to spend time on the receiving end of his remarkable humor and unmistakable kindness.

I could go on about how revolutionary both It's Garry Shandling's Show and The Larry Sanders Show were, but you'll be hearing and reading a lot about that in the coming days. Besides, the work speaks for itself.

Sadly, and all too soon, as of this morning the world is a far less funny place. However, if you know anyone in heaven, you might want to let them know there's going to be a killer set tonight around 9pm at The Laff Stop on Cloud 9. Two drink minimum. Look for the brick wall and the mic.

You're in our hearts forever. Goodbye Garry. Rest in peace.

The first idea

When it’s not a business about fiscal quarters, increasing shareholder value, holding-company leadership bonuses, revenue increasing, maximizing efficiencies (euphemism for cleaning house), and cutting freelancer day rates (cause that’s where the real expense is), advertising is occasionally a business of ideas.

Ideas come at a variety of speeds, and the first one always gets there the fastest. That’s why it’s first, hello?

There are two schools of thought about the first idea. One is that it’s never the right one. The other is that it’s always the right one.

I can’t answer definitively. What I will say is more often than not in my career (pauses to laugh hysterically for using the word "career"), the first idea has been the right one. And if not the right one, then the best one.

The problem is, in advertising the first idea gets a bad rap. People say things like “It’s too obvious.” “You didn’t put any time against it.” “It doesn’t address all 350 bullet points on the brief.” All true at one time or another. Still doesn’t mean it’s not right.

Almost universally in ad agency culture, management likes to put on a show. Or at least watch one.

They like you to work late into the night, fueled on nothing but bad pizza and micro-brewed beer that almost tastes as good as cat pee and smells twice as bad, to show how dedicated and loyal you are to the agency, the client and, most importantly, the creative director.

Hallways are lined with dozens of 4’x8’ foam core boards plastered (just like the creatives) with hundreds of ideas and drawings, none of them as good as the first idea.

Meetings are called to kick around even more ideas. Mostly they're ideas for more meetings.

Even though people are burned out, every angle has been covered, the ideas are all starting to sound the same, and they’ll never present more than three to the client, and none of them are as good as the first one, the show goes on.

Way past the point of exhaustion, when the pizza is gone and the sun's about to come up, eventually someone musters enough awake to say something like “Remember that first idea we had at the beginning, what about that?” Then everyone in the room nods like a shelf of Peyton Manning bobbleheads on the San Andreas fault, and the creative director claims he/she always loved that idea from the beginning.

It’s a riddle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in bullshit.

I suppose thinking it will change anytime soon is futile. And besides, I get paid to come up with all those ideas. As long as the checks continue to clear, I'll keep doing it.

Anyway, my point as you've probably guessed by now is never throw away the first idea.

And always buy stock in foam core.