Lecture series

I know one of the things that makes life a horserace is the fact friends can sometimes have differing opinions. God knows there's only a scant few who aren't fed up with me talking about Springsteen, Breaking Bad, sushi and Vegas as much as I do. I know it, you know it and the American people know it. Yet, I love those friends anyway. I have no choice—it's right there in small print on the friendship contract.

And, because I'm also passionate about certain points of view, I completely understand someone wanting me to see things their way. Often times, after giving it some thought or reflection, I will. I'll eventually come around to their thinking.

I'm nothing if not open-minded.

There are usually two approaches people take when asking me to change my mind about something. One is objectively giving me the facts to consider, and then allowing me to consider them. The other is bludgeoning me with their opinion, especially if they know I may not be entirely on board with it, and then continuing to bludgeon me when I don't immediately come around to their point of view.

Here's which way works better for me: Spoiler Alert: it's the first one.

There's someone I've followed regularly for a long time. I get a lot of good out of their teachings, and they've helped me view the world in a more compassionate, less fearful, more confident way. But recently I've had cause to question their character, and whether I should continue investing time in them.

Here's my process. First, I consider the context of events. I listen to both sides. I take into account the good I've gotten out of it until this point. Then, I make a decision.

What I require is a little patience from the person arguing the other point of view.

And the understanding that mocking, condescending and badgering comments—because I don't instantly agree with them—make it less interesting to give their argument the consideration they'd like me to.

And that I'd like to. Because I'm nothing if not a giver.

All the continual bombardment does is crowd the field. It makes me focus on the diversion and attitude, not the topic at hand. It does not make the argument they think they're making.

I get we're in a time when passions run high, feet get dug in, lines get drawn and everything is black and white. Gray area? That's just crazy talk.

Listen, I'm not a delicate little flower, and if you're my friend and you want to rant and rave at me, have at it. I'm a big boy and I can take it. But if you want me to take it seriously, here's some free advice: there's a better approach.

Why free advice? Told you I was a giver.

"You want them to what?"

Every good copywriter I know, and I know a lot of good ones, has at one time or another been on the receiving end of the comments I got a couple days ago.

It's not the first time I've heard them. And, sad but true, it won't be the last. It never ceases to amaze me that someone can actually have such a lack of situational awareness that they say them out loud in front of other people.

The comments usually come from an account person, more often than not a junior one (although in my case it was a senior person. The definition of "senior" can range anywhere from surviving the last round of lay-offs to going to the same college as the client's wife).

I presented an ad with a headline I liked a lot. Clever. Unexpected. Something different for the brand, yet still in character.

First, with a straight face, the account person said, "I don't get it."

I'll wait while every copywriter reading this nods their head in recognition.

Fortunately for account people, when a headline's cleared for takeoff over their head, and they don't like the glare of the spotlight for being the only one in the room who doesn't get it, they have a go-to follow up comment they can always take refuge in.

"People might have to think about it for a minute."

Well, we wouldn't want that would we? Thinking bad.

Since this particular shop is an account driven agency, can you guess how the story ends? Of course you can. Since the account person "didn't get it", she generously offered up a suggestion as to how it might read.

Let's just say it wasn't exactly a "why-didn't-I-think-of-that" moment for me.

So she got her way. Thanks to her suggestion, the headline got dumbed down. Way down. But at least she can take comfort in the fact that now there's absolutely no risk of anyone having to think about it.

In fact, there's no risk of anyone reading it.