The client side

It’s a little bit the grass is greener, a little bit you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.

Last September, when ten incredibly talented individuals and me (I know that reads like I'm not incredibly talented, but work with me) were unceremoniously and, dare I say, unjustifiably laid off from an agency, I had a decision to make.

Was I going to go back to the known routine of agency life? Or would I make a concerted effort to go client side? I know. The suspense is killing me too.

On one hand, it would mean going back to the all-hands-on-deck weekend fire drills, the bad pizza, the uninspired pep talks, people who think we’re curing cancer, anti-social creative directors with bad hair and worse taste in music, hoping against hope to save accounts that are out the door, and watching great work die a thousand deaths before it ever sees the light of day.

But it'd also mean working with friends I’ve known forever, some of the most creative people in the world who challenge me to up my game every day, not having to be there straight up at 9AM, longer than an hour lunches where food, ideas and occasionally drinks flow fast and furious, dressing like a fifteen-year old, the satisfaction of cracking the code on an assignment and the adrenaline rush of selling the work and seeing it produced.

Since it was coming up on the holidays, I decided to take awhile off to think about it.

When January rolled around, I thought maybe I might like to give client side a whirl. I'd had a taste of it when I freelanced at the Game Show Network for about five months—it was awesome. I loved every minute of it with the exception of having to sit through endless hours of Family Feud reruns.

”Survey says…..not this again!”

Come to find out from an agency producer I’d worked with who was now at a tech company (which happened to be about five minutes from my house) there was a position open I might be right for.

I wasn’t ready to give up bingeing Breaking Bad again yet, but I figured it’d been a long time since I’d had to interview anywhere and at the very least it’d be good practice.

The process was a long one. First there was a phone interview. Then another phone interview. Then a third. Once my new phone pals had been won over by my undeniable charm, razor-sharp wit and overabundant humility, it was time for the in-person interviews.

I met with four people—the person I'd report to, her boss and her boss's boss. I also interviewed with someone who worked with my potential boss and who loved a certain musician that I do (even though I used the word "boss" four times in this paragraph it's not the one you're thinking).

Next was a background check. I gave them two of my former colleagues for references, and they both gave me glowing reviews (P.S. the checks are on the way). I got a copy of the report, and was surprised and a bit unnerved to see how in depth it was beyond the interviews. It contained things I didn't remember, but at least no one asked about those two guys in Jersey. That would've been a dealbreaker.

It was almost a two-month process, but finally I got the gig. It was that intoxicating feeling of excitement and dred. I was really, really, really enjoying my time off, and now it had an expiration date.

I mentioned the company is close to home. But thanks to COVID, my five-minute commute is now a thirty-second one. I haven't worked in the office since I started, and I've never met most of the people I work with in-person. Although they all look good and clean up nice on Zoom.

I'm still adjusting to corporate culture. It's a tech company, but not in the loose way you might picture people working at Google or Apple. When my company used to have "jeans Fridays" it was a big deal. Of course now that everyone's working from home it'd be a big deal if they had "pants Fridays."

Many people have been there fifteen years or more. It's a company people like and want to stay at.

Unlike the freewheeling, improvised, do it on-the-fly nature of agencies, in my new corporate side of the world turns out there's a process, manual or paperwork for everything. Sorry, I meant everything.

All in all, I have to say it's been going pretty well. In the short time I've been there, I've already written and produced four spots starring an internationally famous sports figure. I'd tell you who, but I've said too much already.

As far as I've been able to cipher, the people I work with are lovely. They're hard-working, supportive, encouraging, understanding and appreciative of the work I do.

You know, just like in agencies. (Stops for a minute until the laughter dies down).

Anyway, I'm four months into it and learning a whole new way of operating in a new world. Each day I'm enjoying it more and more.

And I'm not just saying that cause I get the employee discount on all the cool stuff.

Are you the gatekeeper?

Once upon a time, when it came to getting into an agency, whether for a full time position or freelance, hopeful creative people sent their books (portfolio of their work in layman's terms) or promo piece (remember promo pieces?) to the creative director. That's because in a kindler, gentler industry, creative directors usually carved out some time - an hour or so a week - to go through books that'd been submitted.

They returned the ones they didn't want with a nice, brief thanks-but-no-thanks note. They called in the owners of the ones they liked for an interview or a meet-and-greet.

They were obviously the most qualified people to do this for a few reasons. For starters, they were creative people themselves. They understood what goes into coming up with an ad, the obstacles encountered in shaping and crafting it to make it great and the hurdles involved in getting it presented and produced. They spoke the language.

They were the first stop on the job tour.

Fast forward to today, where they're the last.

In today's fully-integrated agencies, with their manifestos on their websites, granola in the kitchen next to the Starbucks Via envelopes and planners offering their "insights," there's a position called Creative Resources Director. Or Creative Services Coordinator. Or Talent Relations Supervisor. Or Creative Concierge. However, that's not what they're called by the actual talent.

They're called gatekeepers.

These are the people who make or break you by getting you - or not - into the agency, and getting your work in front of the creative director.

Gatekeepers usually have the full trust and endorsement of the creative directors, even though most of them have never actually worked as a creative in a creative department. Yet there they are, judging on some criteria only they know which books get through and which don't. I imagine it's a carefully worked out formula of quality of work, reputation, freelance budget and have I had my coffee yet.

Gatekeepers, like creative directors (and freelancers), come in all flavors. There are absolutely great ones out there (like the ones at all the agencies where I work - you know who you are, and thank you). These are the ones that return your email, maintain a friendly attitude, negotiate a rate you're both happy with when they bring you in and let you down easy when they don't.

They keep the lines of communication open, and make it clear it's alright to check in every now and then to see what's going on.

Then there are the other kind of gatekeepers. They're what I like to call the meter maids of gatekeeping. They have a uniform so they think they're real policemen. But they're not.

Every creative person has or will run into one of these. They almost go out of their way not to have a relationship with the very people they will at some point want to work for them. They will never answer any emails, yet they will fully expect you to negotiate your day rate to the basement for them when they call you in two hours before they need you. They'll make sure you know how lucky you are they even considered you.

They'll check your availability, and then they'll never check back with you.

In the same way creative people establish reputations around town, so do the gatekeepers. It's well known in the freelance community who the great ones are, just like it's known who the um, less-than-great ones are. Like the French resistance, there actually is a freelance underground where the community has its ways of sharing their gatekeeper experiences with each other. It's a way of looking out for each other even if everyone's competing for the same jobs.

At the end of the day, gatekeepers are something you accept and work with. If they're the good ones - and I can't say this enough, like all the ones I work with - it's always a pleasure dealing with them. If they're the bad ones, you find the grace to muddle through while holding your ground.

By the way, if you happen to be a gatekeeper and you're reading this, you know the meter maid crack wasn't about you, right?

God: On the record

Here at Rotation and Balance, we were lucky enough to catch God while he was in town taking meetings with studio executives about a remake of the story of his life - The Greatest Story Ever Told.

We sat down with lattes, a good attitude and more than a few questions.

RNB: First of all, thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to talk with us.

GOD: I'm pretty good at multi-tasking. And it's my pleasure.

RNB: So do you visit Earth often?

GOD: I'm actually here more than people think, but not in my true form. That'd be a lot for people to handle, bright heavenly light and all. So I wear a disguise when I'm walking around in my earthly form - kind of like Hugh Jackman when he's on the exhibit floor at Comic Con.

RNB: Hugh Jackman walked the floor at Comic Con dressed as Wolverine.

GOD: Brilliant wasn't it? I really got a kick out of that.

RNB: When you look around at the world, what are the first thoughts that come to mind?

GOD: What the heck have you done with the place? Really, I hardly recognize it. I mean, I gave you the knowledge to build factories, cities and cars - that Audi R8 is pretty sweet, right? - but I thought you might take care of the place a little better. I think I may have been a little too generous with that "free will" experiment.

RNB: You couldn't have put that much work into it. I mean it only took you seven days.

GOD: True, but my days aren't the same as your days. They're a lot longer. That reminds me of a joke...

RNB: Go ahead, let's hear it.

GOD: This kid is in church praying to me, and he says, 'God, what's a million dollars like to you?' And I say, 'It's like a penny to you.' Then he says, 'Well, what's a million years like to you?' And I say, 'It's like a second.' So the kid thinks a minute, then says to me, 'God, can I have a penny?' And I say, 'Sure. Just a second.'

RNB: Good one.

GOD: Gets me every time.

RNB: Getting back on track, I'm sure you know about the recent controversies concerning religion and gay marriage.

GOD: All knowing, hello?

RNB: So what do you think about gay marriage?

GOD: You know, it's a good question. Let's start here - you're all my children. I created you all in my image.

RNB: You're not saying...

GOD: What I'm saying is I'm a part of everyone on Earth. My spirit is in all of you. And because you're all my children, like any parent I love you all and want you to be happy. The world's too short on love, why would I want to take it away from anyone?

RNB: A lot of people say you wouldn't approve, and use your name to justify their position.

GOD: I'm more about acceptance than judgement. I sleep better at night that way.

RNB: You actually sleep?

GOD: Well, no. But you get where I'm going.

RNB: Do you resent fringe groups and haters using your name to justify their actions?

GOD: Brother, if I had a dollar for every time someone took my name in vain or used it as an excuse to hurt people, I could afford that new throne I've had my eye on.

RNB: Why do so many people get that wrong?

GOD: I only knows. See what I did there?

RNB: What about the situation in the Middle East?

GOD: I'm not going to lie to you, it's pretty bad. It's like that mess in the corner of your room you keep saying you're going to clean up, and you never do. It's just too overwhelming.

RNB: All due respect, but why don't you just wave your hand and solve the problem?

GOD: All due respect, because then you wouldn't learn the lessons you need to learn.

RNB: And what are those?

GOD: That's for me to know and you to find out. You have to understand, I'm looking at the big picture. Things happen for what looks like no reason. But there always is one. I'm a very careful planner, and I'm not reckless. A lot of what happens, especially the unpleasant things, are designed to make you stronger of character, more compassionate and more vigilant.

RNB: But some truly horrible things have happened.

GOD: Agreed. The sad truth is I'm not the only one at work here. I have some pretty powerful enemies, well, enemy. He can't win, but he makes things tougher for me.

RNB: Is there life after death?

GOD: Is there ever. And the good news is, and I really shouldn't tell you this, but everyone gets past the gates.

RNB: Everyone?

GOD: Yep. Doesn't matter if you believe in me or not, doesn't matter what you've done. I'm big on forgiveness.

RNB: Every heard the phrase "Rock N' Roll Heaven?"

GOD: I dare you to find a better band than the one we've got. Every seat is a good one, AND there are no Ticketmaster fees - if that isn't heaven, I don't know what is.

RNB: There's a lot more to talk about, but I know you have to run. Thanks for spending a little time with us.

GOD: Thank you for having me. And just so you know, even when you see me leave, I'm not really gone.

RNB: How do I know that's true?

GOD: See that guy over there who looks like Hugh Jackman?