Remaining faithful

It's like Groundhog's Day.

Every September, Apple introduces the newest iPhone along with a few other products or improvements.

Then, online and in person, the Apple faithful show up in droves a couple weeks later to snap them up so they can have bragging rights to being among the early adopters of Apple's latest.

ME: Hi, my name is Jeff and I'm an Apple loyalist. ALL: Hi Jeff.

I love the annual show. From the year's worth of rumors leading up to it, to the pre-show music (all of it available on iTunes), to Apple's vice-president of Software Engineering Craig Federighi's humor-filled and loose presentation, to the products themselves, it all works for me. And on me.

I have an ancient iPhone5 I waited two months and went to seven Apple stores to get when it first came out. For those of you keeping count, that means as of today's presentation I'm three generations behind on the iPhone. I want the new iPhone6S Plus. But I probably won't get it.

Instead, I'll wait for next year's song and dance when they introduce the iPhone7. I like buying in the non-"S" years.

Whenever the subject of iPad comes up, between my laptop and my iPhone I've never been able to find a reason to hop on the iPad bandwagon. But I did want one after today's introduction of the 12.9" iPad Pro. It has an available Smart Keyboard for $169 to make it more like a laptop, and a $100 Apple Pencil which is their way of saying stylus.

However when I use the calculator on my ole' iPhone5 and add up exactly how much all this new gear would cost me - and add in the fact I now have tuition for young Mr. Spielberg, plus the wife and daughter are waiting for their new phones - it becomes painfully clear I'm going to have to wring (or ring) a little more use out of what I have.

Hey Siri, couldn't you cut me a little slack and make it every two years?

The great escape

When I hear the words escape plan, like everyone else in advertising I think it's referring to a way out of the business. A gentle transition into another career, preferably one that isn't ranked below car salesman and personal injury lawyers.

With all the rockin' and rollin' that's been going on in places like the Philippines and Mexico City, I know it also applies to earthquakes.

But the more jokes I hear about the zombie apocalypse, the more I think maybe it's no joke at all and that's what's really coming. They just want you think it's a joke. And that's what I need an escape plan for.

Hear me out.

I don't think the dead will rise and start slow-chasing down a brain buffet. At least not at first. What I think is they've already ingratiated themselves, hiding in plain sight among us. If you've ever worked in an agency, people feeding on the brains of others for survival is nothing new to you.

And while it may not result in the zombie gore portrayed in movies, comics and television, I promise you more often than not it's just as messy and no less brutal.

I believe the theory of Occam's Razor - the simplest solution being the right one - applies here.

Walk faster.

At least this'll work against the slow-walking, brain-eating zombies. However, their more subtle agency brethren have already mastered the World War Z art of the fast walk, usually while carrying a Powerpoint deck or an iPad so as to look important - and alive.

You'll have to be more resourceful planning your getaway from them. If they trap you in a meeting, you're a goner.

One of the most valuable tools in the fight against zombies is a quality shovel. Always good for clobbering them in the head and buying yourself some time.

Of course if you work in an agency, you already know it comes in pretty handy there too.

Negotiate this

In advertising, as in most businesses, there comes that magical time in the interview where they ask you how much you're looking for salary wise. And before answering, you ask them how much they have for the position.

And the game is afoot.

I've never liked negotiating for money. It's not that I'm not good at it (Jewish, hello?), but time and time again it's just frustrating how stupid the things being said on the other side of the table are.

Here are two of my favorites.

They ask what I'm looking for and I tell them. Then they say, "Well, we're paying our current writer $50,000 less than that." To which I say, "Then keep your current writer. I'm sure s/he's great. But if you want me, you're going to have to pony up." Or something to that effect.

Sometimes you have to point out the obvious to them: that whatever anyone else makes has absolutely nothing to do with what you're being paid or your value to the company.

Which brings me to the next moronic statement I've heard many, many times in my, um, career (chuckling cause I said career).

This usually happens once I've had a job for a while where I've performed exceptionally, done great campaigns, have happy clients, been responsible for increased sales, gotten glowing reviews from my bosses, etc. The discussion of increasing my salary begins, and it's met with "Well, if I do that for you then I'd have to do it for everyone."

Hold on cowboy, let's think about that for a minute.

First of all, no, you don't have to do it for everyone. Unless of course you're letting everyone know what everyone makes. In which case then you might have to do it for everyone.

Also, if you have to do it for everyone, does that include that creative director that does nothing all day but look busy while he's actually playing Angry Birds on his iPad? Because if it does, I don't need to work nearly as hard or smart as I do if you have to give the same increase to everyone just because I asked about it.

Salary negotiations are about one thing and one thing only. The number you'll be happy with. And if the people you're negotiating with don't think you're worth that number, then they're not worth your time. It's a lesson that takes a while to learn.

Like buying a house or a car, you have to be prepared to walk away if you don't get the deal you want. It's not always an easy thing to do.

But it's considerably more rewarding than selling yourself short.