Firing squad

I've said it before and I'll say it again. If you get fired in advertising, all it means is you showed up one day.

Jobs in the ad biz hinge on a number of factors, and often job performance is the least of them. How you get along with A) the creative director B) the client C) the clients' wife D) creative services or any number of other individuals can affect how long your shelf life is at an agency. Decisions that determine your fate at an agency are almost always entirely out of your hands, and can be made based on campaigns you've sold (or not sold), the shirt you're wearing (or not wearing) that day or the color of your eyes. The tag line for this blog says "We didn't invent random." Ad agencies did.

Like many people who make ads that make America buy, I've been laid off a few times in my career (pausing until giggling fit is over for using the word "career"). And I can tell you from experience, it takes a village. It's not as straightforward as it once was. No one says, "You're fired! Collect your things and get out!"

Well, they say the second part, but now they say it in accordance with state labor laws.

Here's an example. I'm not going to name the agency I was working for, Y&R, but I was let go after almost three years there. I'd originally been brought in as a freelancer, but the creative director and I hit it off and he decided he wanted me to stick around. So he offered me more work and less money, and I said, "Where do I sign?"

Fast forward a few years later. I'm in a meeting in Versailles, which was the agency's big conference room. For some reason, ad agencies love to name their conference rooms after cities. Or cars. Or explorers. Or movie characters. We take our creativity where we can find it. I worked at this one shop that just had numbers for their conference rooms. It was a nice change of pace.

Where was I? Oh yeah.

As I'm in this meeting, my creative director pokes his head in the door and says, "Hey Jeff, can I talk to you for a minute?" This is how it always begins.

I walk out of the room with him, and while we're walking he's making uncomfortable small talk about the meeting he pulled me out of. I notice we're going upstairs towards HR. When I ask what's up, he says to the office of the head of HR.

Alright, so I know what's coming, and I said, "Are you kidding me?" To which he said, "It's out of my hands. There was nothing I could do." To which I said, "Really? I thought you were the boss. How about you let me speak to the person in charge?"

I was pissed.

In the office, he sat uncomfortably to the side, not making eye contact - as they always do - while the head of HR told me I was being let go, gave me an end date, paperwork, blah blah blah. I learned shortly thereafter I was one of five people let go that day. I'm sure it was out of their boss' hands as well.

I came back the next day and spoke to both of them about getting more severance. My boss said nothing, and the head of HR said no. But this story does have a happy ending.

Some time later, that head of HR got let go - ironic ain't it? I was talking to a mutual friend, and come to find out the former head of HR had wanted her to ask me if I'd write some copy for a website she was setting up for her post-agency life.

I'm nothing if not a giver, so after a nanosecond of thought, I told my friend I'd like her to relay my two-word answer to the former HR head verbatim.

Since this is a family blog, I won't repeat them here. But they were exactly the two words you think they were.

Lesson learned

This isn't going to be a funny post tonight (I know, why is this post different from any other post?). But for some reason a particular incident has been on my mind and I can't stop thinking about it.

Years ago, I worked at an agency which shall go nameless. Y&R. There was an art director I worked with there who I never clicked with, nor she with me. Her creative sensibilities were completely different from mine, and it made for a lot of disagreement. Nonetheless, during the occasional times we worked together, we managed to forge ahead and get it done.

I'd never describe us as friends, even though she did ask me to write her wedding invitation because she thought I was talented and funny (some truths can't be denied). I wouldn't say I was glad to do it for her, but I was pleased she liked what I came up with.

It was a cool relationship at best, and only got cooler when I was assigned another art director—one of my favorites to work with and a great friend to this day—and she was going to supervise the project.

Here's where my memory gets a bit like an oil company executive at a senate hearing. I can't recall the exact circumstances, but for some reason she didn't like what my art director partner was doing and decided she wanted to get him fired.

I would have none of it.

After several attempts by her to get rid of my partner, I unloaded and read her the riot act. I did it loudly, in the middle of the department, and at length. It was not my finest hour, but in the heat of the moment, lines clearly drawn, loyalties clearly defined, I was unable to stop. I was a bully in the worst, most unprofessional way. To her credit, she kept her cool and listened to my angry ranting until I was done.

Needless to say we didn't work together after that, and my partner never got fired. Surprisingly, neither did I.

Years later, after I'd left the agency, I heard she was battling cancer. A few years ago, she lost her battle.

I was invited to her memorial service by several people, but I didn't go. It wouldn't have been right or honest given the nature of our relationship.

As I think back on it, she didn't deserve any of my angry antics. Not because she became ill, but because she was a human being.

I believe so much in the golden rule, and I'm embarrassed and shamed by my complete abandonment of it during that encounter. If I could go back and do it differently, I would in a heartbeat. If she were around, I'd tell her I'm sorry, and I had no right to treat her like I did.

But she's not.

What I can do now is pray her two children grow up healthy, with their loving father and nothing but beautiful memories of their mother who was taken too soon.

Sadly, I'm in a position now where I do get to have the last word. So here it is. I'm sorry I treated you that way. You didn't deserve it. And if it's any small consolation, I'm a better person as a result of it and it's a lesson I'll always carry with me.

Rest in peace.

T'was the night before Christmas - Revision 6

If this post looks familiar, you have a fine memory. I posted it exactly one year ago today. I guess the fact I'm reposting it again here would be considered re-gifting. You're welcome.

Anyway, many people have asked me to post it again this year. Okay, not many but a few. And by a few I mean my wife. Alright, none. C'mon, it's Christmas Eve. I've got things to do, and coming up with a brand new post just wasn't on the list. Does that make me naughty? Guess I'll find out tomorrow morning.

In the meantime, please to enjoy. And the very merriest Christmas to you and yours.

‘Twas the night before Christmas in the agency halls
Not a planner was stirring, there were no client calls
The glasses were hung by the conference room with care
In hopes the Christmas party would soon begin there

Creative directors nestled with campaigns that were dead
While visions of One Show Awards danced in their head
They’d talk of production and work they had done
It was true this year’s party would be nothing but fun

When out in the lobby there rose such a clatter
I sprang from the status meeting to see what was the matter
Was it the new intern wearing an Urban Outfitters jacket
What could possibly be making all of that racket

With a little old driver, so lively and quick
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name

Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen!
Let’s go in the kitchen and see what they’re fixen!
To the corner office and just down the hall
They found trays of hors de oeuvres and ate them all!

The staff would look forward to the holiday bonus
Saying "as hard as we’ve worked of course they would owe us"
The general manager spoke, it was quite a summit
He told us all how profits had started to plummet

Cutbacks, downsizing, raise-freezes, client losses
He would if he could, but not so the bosses
He charted the bonus with marker not chalk
He wrote on the white board “That’s just crazy talk.”

They showed the work that’d been done all through the year
But with no bonuses the staff was not of good cheer
Sure there was music and dancing for those who were able
Even some shenanigans on the conference room table

Soon it was over, soon it was gone
All the carrying they’d planned had been carried on
The party was finished, the tinsel unhung
The songs they were singing had all been sung

After bad luck like this, what else could they add
It was Christmas, and really, things weren’t that bad
Until he exclaimed as his limo drove out of sight
Happy pink slip to all, and to all a good night!

Keeping a secret

There’s a holiday tradition everyone who works in an advertising agency eventually runs up against despite mighty, mighty efforts to avoid it.

The White Elephant holiday gift exchange. Sometimes known as Secret Santa.

Essentially it’s a primitive holiday ritual where you and all your co-workers buy inexpensive gag gifts no one wants, then exchange them. Hilarity ensues. (At my house, we call this Christmas). You can challenge your co-workers if someone gets one you actually want, or you can just hang on to yours and silently figure out who you don’t like enough to re-gift it to.

From Magic Eight Balls to Fart Extinguishers to the How To Tell If Your Cat Is Plotting To Kill You book, white elephant gift exchanges are exactly the opposite of what they’re intended to be: Funny.

So, being in the giving spirit of the holiday – although I’m not saying which holiday – I’d like to suggest three Secret Santa/White Elephant gifts that are agency appropriate, worth a few laughs and inexpensive to create or buy.

Which is good, because you're not getting a bonus this year either.

The Pink Slip.

Agencies are notorious for having heartless housecleanings just before Christmas. Give your colleagues an official looking pink slip, and enjoy the merriment when they can’t tell if it’s real or not. For extra fun, have everyone take a step back from the recipient when they open it.

Dock the Halls.

Use card stock in the mailroom to dummy up some realistic looking timesheets, with the hour for the gift exchange you're right in the middle of marked as docked from their pay. Watch the fun as the bitching reaches new heights. Wait, is that someone marching off to read HR the riot act? You can't put a price on entertainment value like this!

Manual Labor.

Showcase your creativity, since the client doesn't let you showcase it anywhere else, with this 100% fake Employee Manual. Contains uproarious, fictional and totally bogus sections like Our Profit-Sharing Plan, Vacation Days, Overtime Pay, Bonus Structure, Addressing Grievances, Internet Use Policy and much, much more. Wait a minute, that's the actual employee manual. Oh well, even funnier. And the printing's already done for you.

I hope these suggestions have been helpful. As you rip open the gift wrap, don't forget to pause and give the fake laugh while you say unconvincingly, "Oh, that's..great.." And remember to be kind, because bringing joy to the world and love and friendship to your colleagues is what the true spirit of the season is about.

Plus you have to work with these people every day. At least until someone hands one of you a real pink slip.

We're all freelancers

My friend, fellow blogger and dog-surfing instructor Rich Siegel – who runs Round Seventeen – put up a post today called Too Many Freelancers.

The gist of it is far too many of our staff brethren are packing it in for the seemingly greener, albeit much more competitive, grass of the freelance life, although not all of them are suited for it. Of course, he’s right.

But I’d like to offer another point of view. We’re all freelancers, whether we’re on staff or not.

It’s a quaint notion, a carryover from the Mad Men era, or a time you could work at IBM for forty-four years and have a nice pension at the end of it to see you through the rest of your days, that having a full-time gig at an ad agency somehow equals job security.

Ask the teams that work at Mitsubishi’s new agency every two years how secure their jobs are. The creative teams on Dell Computers can probably whip up a spreadsheet showing why that theory is wrong. Take a drive with the former creative director at Doner, Mazda’s old agency for thirteen years that created the Zoom Zoom campaign, and ask him how he feels about job security. The battlefield is littered with examples.

My point is we’re all just one agency review, one client loss, one new marketing director, one client’s wife’s opinion, one budget shift to digital, one creative director in a bad mood away from being shown the door.

Don’t get me wrong: I very much like the idea of job security. I also like the idea that I’m six-foot-two, a hundred eighty five pounds, totally ripped and get mistaken for Chris Hemsworth on a daily basis. But just because I like it don’t make it so.

The Round Seventeen post talks about Smiling and Dialing, Dry Spells and Making Nice, all daily chores freelancers are far too familiar with.

But they occur on the staff side as well.

Staffers get paranoid when it slows down, and try to look busy in case management is doing bed check. Not so much politically motivated as a survival strategy, staffers can be found making nice to people most in a position to turn the idea of job security into a reality. And day in and day out,the phone lines are always open to other agencies. Especially if an account's rumored to be shaky (SPOILER ALERT: They all are. Always).

So if you're on staff at an agency, thinking about making the leap to the freelance life, congratulations. You already did.

The List

Here's the thing about upper management.

The guys at the top do not go down with the ship. They push people off so they can continue sailing.

They inspire a false sense of trust through breezy conversation and carefully parsed out praise. They conspire with you by whispering a risque joke, and sharing what appears to be a confidence but in reality isn't. When there's a grievance, they take you in their office, close the door, give you a well-practiced sympathetic and understanding look as they tell you how they feel your pain. Then they assure you that "if I could do something about it, I would."

Here's the lesson: despite carefully constructed appearances to the contrary, they're not your friend. But they act like it, as long as you're cost effective and the challenging comments you make or errors and stupid decisions you point out don't reflect directly on them.

As long as that's the case, then your position isn't on The List.

At this point you might be wondering what's triggered this line of thought. Don't worry, I haven't been fired (you need a real job for that to happen). Actually, someone I used to work for happened to cross my mind. Someone I believed to be my friend.

Admittedly it's a line that's easily blurred for me.

You'd think for as many times as I've seen The Godfather, I'd know by now - it's not personal, it's business. The thing is, because of the masquerade, it feels personal.

Here's the funny part: I still like this individual. Even though when given the choice, they wound up putting my name on The List. Which is the very reason I believe they're not my friend. See the conflict?

I hope this person is happy, and not in the "I hope you're happy now" sense. I mean it.

While I'm sure I'm giving this person much more brain time than they've given me since I left - or maybe even than when I was there for that matter - I can't help but feel a profound sadness that this was a person I thought was my friend, and who I counted on to have my back.

Turns out they did. Just not in the way I thought.