The same can be said anytime your employer calls a town hall meeting—inevitably at the most inconvenient time—either in the lobby or on Zoom to tell the underpaid, overworked staff they’re more than just employees working for the man: they’re family.
While this point of view occurs at client side companies I've worked at, I've heard it from literally every agency I've ever been at. For some reason, the commeraderie and casual environment, combined with the rapid-fire wit and intelligence that pervades agency hallways and open office seating is frequently mistaken by leadership for a bond and allegiance that extends beyond the paycheck.
Clearly family means different things to leadership than it does to say Merriam Webster, who defines it as a group of people who live together, or one that is similar to another related by blood, marriage, law, custom or members of one’s intimate social group.
Some greeting card companies and inspirational posters (with and without kittens) define family as people in your life who want you in theirs. The ones who accept you for who you are. Love you no matter what, and would do anything to see you smile.
When was the last time an agency gave a rat’s ass about you smiling?
The truth is when agencies and companies talk about family, it’s more along the lines of the Sopranos. As long as you’re making them money, you’re part of the family. But the minute you’re not, or decide to leave, you're dead to them.
I worked for a company for two years. A lot of that time was spent writing about their core values, with emphasis on how they cared for their employees and considered them *checks notes* family. When I gave notice, I wanted to meet with the VP of Marketing to thank him for everything. Two meetings were scheduled, two meetings were cancelled. I wrote him a nice, personal email afterwards. Never heard back.
From the minute he heard I was going, as far as he was concerned I was gone. And it was a really nice email. Oh well.
When I worked at an agency that shall go nameless—as all agencies within walking distance of the beach, Sancho's Tacos and Pacific City should—they unexpectedly and unceremoniously let a group creative director go who, unlike the executive creative director that tied the can to him, was extremely popular and well liked. True to form, it happened Sopranos style: he went out to lunch and never came back. The next day, the executive creative director sent out a bullshit email condescendingly explaining how these things happen, and we're all still family and we'll get past this sad day together.
He didn't even work up a sweat shoveling that hard.
All this is to give you an important safety tip—don't cross the streams. Work is work, and family is family.
It's easy to tell the difference. Real family doesn't need a town hall to tell you who they are.
