Off the clock. Again.

The reason the title has the word "again" in it is because I've used this title before here. Feel free to compare and contrast the posts. They're both equally entertaining, humorous and a fun read in their own way. And of course, they both reflect my world-renowned humility.

Anyone working in an ad agency will tell you it's not exactly a 9 to 5 job. An account goes into review, the creative director changes his mind, a deadline gets moved up, the creative director changes his mind, a new business pitch walks in the door, the creative director changes his mind, and the battle cry goes out: all hands on deck.

If you're following along with your Advertising-to-English Dictionary, that means don't buy any concert or airline tickets, make any dinner dates or plan on getting a lot of sleep for the next several nights or weekends.

Not that I'm not a team player (a term I hate, don't get me started), but here's the thing: when I'm done for the day, I'm done for the day. The nanosecond my feet are out of the building, I don't think about it until they're back in the building the following day. I have no problem flipping the switch.

Or flipping anything else for that matter.

I've written about how seriously some people in advertising take it. Fortunately I'm not one of those. Oh, I know, advertising helps the economy, gets information to the consumer they wouldn't otherwise have (want), builds brands. Whatever. I hate for you to have to hear it this way, but we're not doing God's work here. A grateful nation is never going to thank us for the latest banner ad or social post promoting "engagement" with your laundry detergent.

A close friend who owns an agency in San Francisco told me years ago it's better to work smarter than later. Can I get an amen to that?

Don't get me wrong: when I'm on the job, you have me 110%. I'm focused, I'm a concept generating machine. I'm on it. And contrary to how it may sound, I do recognize there are occasionally times when late hours and weekends can't be avoided. The problem is a lot of agencies confuse "can't be avoided" with "that's just how we do it."

You know when you call a doctor after hours you get that recording that says "If this is a medical emergency, hang up and call 911."

Mine would be "If this is an advertising emergency, you should've planned better. See you Monday."

The missing chapter

There's the old saying about always leaving the audience wanting more. Apparently Fred Goldberg took it to heart, because that's exactly how I felt when I finished his excellent book, The Insanity of Advertising.

For the outsiders who think advertising's nothing but fun and glamour day in and day out - and oddly enough there are still a few - Fred pulls back the curtain and reveals the true story of just how insane this business is more often than not.

He also names names, which definitely helped make it a fun read. And of course, being the straight shooter I've known him to be, he lets everyone know exactly what he thinks of them. He's retired from the business now, so I suppose it's easier to do. Although I recall in my brief experience with him, Fred never had a problem letting anyone know what he thought, even at the height of his career.

I have to admit I was a little disappointed one story he neglected to include was the pitch for Disneyland his legendary creative shop Goldberg Moser O'Neill was involved in. While I'm sure Fred knows part of the reason his agency wound up being invited to pitch the Happiest Place On Earth, he doesn't know all of it.

Here it is.

I was freelancing and looking for work. One of the places I'd managed to work my way into for nine months was Foote Cone & Belding in San Francisco. I lived in Santa Monica at the time, so I'd fly up there Monday mornings and fly back on Friday nights. I racked up a ton of frequent flyer miles. I got upgraded all the time. I was on a first name basis with the counter people at United. Every once in a while the pilot at the end of the week who flew me home would be the one who flew me up at the beginning of the week, and he'd recognize me. The agency paid for my hotel during the week. It all felt very jet-setty.

That was the good news. The bad news is I was working on Taco Bell.

The way I'd landed the job - which was not really a great way for a creative to get in the door, but what the hell, I was there - was through the client at Taco Bell, a great guy named Blaise Mercadante. Blaise used to be VP of research at Tracy-Locke, where we worked together. I always said if I'd known he was going to wind up being the client I would've been a lot nicer to him.

Anyway, this was a couple years before the Disneyland pitch, and ever since the FCB gig ended I'd been looking for a way to get back up to San Francisco. I checked the want ads in the back of Adweek (remember those?), networked like crazy and sent out promotional pieces (remember those?) that apparently only I thought were clever.

But my love of San Francisco, my memory of the cold, bracing breeze coming off the bay and hitting me as I left the FCB office at night, was strong and seductive enough to make me do something I never did before and haven't done since.

I made a cold call. And I made it to Mike Moser at Goldberg Moser O'Neill.

For some reason, I thought about ten minutes into the lunch hour he'd still be at his desk and it'd be a good time to ambush him. I was right. He picked up the phone and I introduced myself, fully expecting the bum's rush. Instead, Mike talked to me for a good half hour, asking about my experience in general and at FCB in particular, what ads GMO had done that I liked, what was going on at the agency and what their needs might be in the future. He told me to definitely stay in touch.

When I got off the phone with Mike Moser, two things were crystal clear. First, as badly as I'd wanted to work for GMO when I made the call, I wanted to work there a hundred times more after. And second, from that point on no one could ever say a bad word to me about GMO (not that anyone was trying to).

Fast forward a bit. My friend Paula Freeman became VP of Marketing for Disneyland Resort. Both she and her boss, Michele Reese, decided to have agencies pitch the Disneyland business, and Paula asked me to lead the charge as creative consultant on the pitch.

I don't think I have to tell you - even though I'm about to - how fast GMO became the first agency on my list. They had a record of outstanding, impactful creative work on Apple, Dell, California Cooler, Kia and several other accounts. And I had never forgotten Mike Moser's kindness in taking my call.

GMO pitched the business against three other agencies and won hands down. The work was smart and evoked emotion taking the brand to a new level. Oddly, on the heels of the pitch, GMO was asked to pitch again against Leo Burnett from Chicago -- Disney World's agency of record. Burnett wasn't in the original group of agencies invited, and hadn't been invited by any of us. An edict came down from Disney and Michael Eisner, who was close, personal friends with the EVP of marketing in Orlando, that they be allowed to pitch the business. Sometimes, the Magic Kingdom isn't so magical, especially when they turn from the happiest place on earth to the most political and corporate place on earth.

Of course Fred, shooting straight as ever, wasted no time in letting us know how completely unhappy he was, and what utter bullshit it was GMO had to re-pitch a second time. And he was right. But, despite having the feeling the fix was in - a feeling we shared - the lure of a highly visible, blue chip account like Disneyland is worth the extra step, both for what it is and what it could become.

Goldberg Moser O'Neill presented their exceptional creative work. They were Paula's, Michele's and my first choice to get the business. In the end though, it went to Leo Burnett in Chicago

Insanity indeed.

On a personal note to Fred, as Paul Harvey would say, "Now you know the rest of the story." I enjoyed your book immensely, and hope you're hard at work on a sequel. I know you have many more stories to tell.

And frankly, it'd be insane if you kept them to yourself.

The thrill of the chase

I've written here about how hard it is for agencies to let an account go, even when the hour is late and it's way past time for them to say goodnight.

The flip side of that, and no less sad and demoralizing, is when agencies somehow manage to get themselves an invitation to pitch an account they don't have a chance in hell of getting.

The advertising landscape is littered with storyboards from small, start-up agencies with one office, a purple bean bag chair, a five-year old laptop and a staff of three who all thought they had "just as good a chance as anyone" to land General Motors. Or American Airlines. Or Budweiser. Or Hilton.

It's only after these global accounts go through the review, and do what they were inevitably going to do in the first place - award their business to a global agency - that these agencies feel the cold water tossed in their face, and come to the grim and true-from-the-start realization they never had a chance.

Never. Had. A. Chance.

Despite the amazing creative they did. The unbelievably thorough presentation deck. And the supermodel receptionist, who's brother's cousin's nephew's best friend went to an improv class six years ago with one of the hundred and seventy brand managers, which is how they weaseled an invite to the dance in the first place.

Lot of good your principal involvement, unmatched agility, media agnostic positioning and social integration did you.

It's not hard to see why they take the shot. Every agency wants to play in the big leagues. They all want a showcase account they can hopefully do some killer work on, then use it as a calling card to get into pitches with other global clients they won't stand a chance with.

There's some lesson to be learned here about a sense of entitlement. And believing that just because you have some brilliant insights that's going to be enough get the job done.

Sometimes, many times, with clients that big, sad but true, great ads are the least of it. They're looking for infrastructure, global presence and some actual media leverage to support the effort. Or maybe they're just looking for an agency with some maturity, both figuratively and literally.

The point is, in every industry there's a hierarchy. Steps to climb. Dues to pay. Even if you've been in business a while, it still takes time to arrive.

Everyone wants to be the agency that has the insights the client is going to spark to. But even more valuable to them would be an agency who knows who they are. Knows what they can do and can't do.

Not that you asked, but my suggestion would be to play to your strength. Build your story by going after accounts you can actually win.

If you're as smart as the presentation deck says, you'll know who they are.

Not ready for my close-up

Agencies have a lot of camera equipment laying around. And while today, that could just mean a few iPhone 5's, I'm talking about the real thing. Actual HD cameras, with mics, lights and people who know how to use them.

Many agencies even have full blown production departments they position to potential clients as responsive and money-saving, when actually what they are is a profit center for the agency.

"Sure we can produce 10 spots for a million dollars!"

What they don't mention is that the hard costs to them are only $20K a spot. What the hell, everyone's entitled to make money. And if that money goes into the freelance budget, even better.

Perhaps I've said too much already.

Anyway, sometimes that equipment is drafted into service for a new business pitch, a party video or a clip about the agency for their site.

I've always tried to avoid appearing in these videos. They never seem to be as funny or clever as they are on paper (Yes, just like my copy - so predictable). And while everyone is yelling at you to look happy while it's being shot, I've noticed the overwhelming feeling after participating is regret for having done it.

Still, there never seems to be a shortage of volunteers. I call it the Kardashian effect: the 15 minutes of fame theory reduced to 2 minutes while it gets shown in a staff meeting.

The powers that be where I'm working right now asked me to appear in a New Hire video today (I'm using "asked" as a euphemism). The idea was a group of people - a representative from every department - around a conference room table having a fake brainstorming session. I guess it was going to be shown in the HR waiting room. I made them swear a blood-oath and put in writing that it would never make its way to YouTube, social media or the company website.

They assured me it wouldn't.

The upshot of it all was that shortly before they were to begin shooting, they said I couldn't do it because I was only a temp employee. They were going to use a staffer instead. Personally, I think I was being such a pain in the ass they just uninvited me to the dance. It wouldn't be the first time.

Fine with me.

Besides, until they invent a camera that subtracts ten pounds, I don't think I'll be appearing in agency videos any time soon.

Letting the account go

One thing you can say for ad agencies is they're not quitters. Especially when their largest account goes into review. If they're invited to pitch it - again – there’s no doubt they'll give it everything they've got.

Even when they shouldn't.

We've all been there. First come the rumors of trouble. Then the hushed closed door management meetings. Sometimes, an email goes out letting people who work on the business know. But as a rule, they find out on their own from somewhere else. Like Adweek. Or a friend at another agency pitching the business.

When a sizable account goes into review, agencies predictably knee-jerk into "we can't just let $200 million walk out the door mode."

But sometimes they should.

I understand the economics and the responsibility to try and keep everyone employed. But there comes a time when done is done. The fat lady is singing.

The problem is most agencies don't hear her.

The rank and file, people working on an account day in and day out, have a much finer honed ability to take the client's temperature than management. They know when the ground shifts and something doesn't feel right. They've seen it coming weeks if not months before management. Sometimes they've even sounded a warning.

But when it comes to management hearing about the possibility of losing business, denial ain't just a river.

From a new VP of Marketing to the client's wife not liking the work, there are a million reasons accounts go into review. Agencies always feel if they can just give it one more go, they can really understand the problem and come up with a solution.

And granted, on rare occasions, they can.

But sometimes what the client is looking for most from the agency is to be taken at their word.

Even if that word is goodbye.

Clients, like dogs, smell fear and desperation. And the scent is never stronger than an incumbent agency fighting for business, or begging for the chance to fight for business, at all costs - including its dignity, reputation and morale of its employees.

You know what's worse than losing a piece of business? Trying to rally the troops with false and tired arguments like "it's a level playing field", or "our client is working for us on the inside", then grinding everyone for weeks or months with them knowing full well it's gone regardless of what they do.

I suppose there's an argument to be made it's a few more weeks of work before the first round of layoffs. But like I said, the people bound to be most effected have already seen it coming. They're usually ahead of the curve on calls to headhunters and other agencies (especially ones pitching the business) .

Advertising is a business that rewards imaginative thinking, and punishes realistic thinking when it’s needed most. Pride before a fall.

What agencies should do, especially when business is good and clients are satisfied, is have an ongoing open and transparent new business directive everyone can take ownership in. After all, management isn't the only one in the agency capable of cultivating connections beyond the agency's doors. Leads can come from any department.

And if the lead pans out, you get coffee. Because coffee is for closers.

Wouldn't it be better to spend all the money they'll inevitably pour into a review on new business pursuits throughout the year, so when one account finally does decide to leave the agency isn't crippled by it. Better to have ten $2 million dollar accounts than one $20 million dollar one.

Of course, when an agency does have to fight for a piece of business, it usually brings in a ton of freelancers for a fresh perspective. It's always a good gig, and keeps their bank balance happy for quite a while.

On second thought, just disregard this post.