A little foggy on the subject

When I worked at FCB in San Francisco, I developed the very enjoyable habit of going to the San Francisco Ad Awards show every year. Not only was it a way to see the outstanding creative work being done around town, it gave me a great excuse to go up north and catch up with my many friends who live there. Sadly, the SF ad show eventually went the way of southern California’s Belding awards.

Which means I can still go see my friends, I just can’t write it off (as easily).

I remember one year, the show was being held at the historic Fillmore, where icons like Jimi Hendrix, The Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane and Muddy Waters played. You could feel history in the hall.

At this particular awards show, George Zimmer, founder and former CEO of Men’s Wearhouse, was the master of ceremonies. He made a joke wondering why all these other accounts were winning awards for their creativity but his wasn’t. I can only assume it was a rhetorical question.

Every year I went, there was the usual grousing from losing agencies about how Goodby would steal the show - much the same way people used to complain about Chiat walking off with the Beldings every year, until they changed the rules and judging criteria. Funny how sometimes entry fees speak louder than the work.

Anyway, the SF show always seemed to be a lot looser and more freewheeling.

I remember the funniest line of the night was from a presenter who starting talking about how grateful he was for his career in advertising, and then rattled off all the things he wouldn’t want to be in life.

At the top of the list was Hal Riney’s liver.

Even then it was a gutsy line. But it just speaks to the no-holds-barred fun the SF show used to be.

In a couple weeks, I'll be heading back up to go to the wedding of a good friend of mine. I'm looking forward to the wedding, the city and the feeling of possibility and originality that seems to go with it.

And if I have time, I'll catch a show at the Fillmore.

Incomplete

It's another sad, sad day for parents everywhere, but especially in Marysville, Washington.

If you've seen or heard any media today, you already know a student named Jaylen Fryberg - who was by all accounts a great kid and homecoming prince - walked into the school cafeteria, walked up to a table of his friends, pulled a gun and started shooting them.

One girl died instantly. Four others are in extremely critical condition. And at the end of it all, Fryberg killed himself.

Whenever this happens, and it happens all too frequently, I always try to calm myself down with the same false mantra every other parent uses: it could never happen at my kid's school. I'm sure every parent at Marysville was thinking that until today.

There are so many things we didn't have when I was in school. One of them was school shootings. The worse that would happen back then is you'd get beat up by someone in a school gang. Not shot or stabbed, just beat up in a fist fight.

My thoughts and prayers are with everyone in Marysville tonight. I know how much I hate it when my kids are late getting home.

I can't imagine the agony of knowing they're never coming home again.

86 the 1099

It's the very definition of buzzkill. You work a certain number of days for an agreed rate, and you expect to see that amount on the check. Then payday rolls around, and you're as giggly as a 13-year old on her way to a One Direction concert. But when you open the envelope, thanks to Uncle Sam, the check is about a third lighter than you expected.

That giant sucking sound? It's all the things you were going to do with the money disappearing.

Here's how it used to work.

You'd go into an agency, do the work, then send them an invoice. Maybe they'd ask you to sign a NDA. Maybe. Then, you'd get a check for what you invoiced. Every cent. The rate you'd agreed on. The amount you expected.

It was called 1099 income. And it was a beautiful thing. But that was then and this is now.

Apparently those boys at the IRS have no sense of humor when it comes to not getting their payroll taxes from the working masses. Which is what was happening with freelancers in agencies.

So now, agencies are only allowed to hire someone freelance for a very short period of time before they're required by law to put them on staff as a temporary employee. But most of them go straight to temp employee status.

The way it works now is you go into an agency, fill out a stack of employee forms as thick as the Yellow Pages, that range anywhere from the Confidentiality Agreement to the Sexual Harassment Policy (SPOILER ALERT: Don't do it). You also sign a W-4 form which, unlike the 1099, means taxes are taken out for you and you get a W-2 form at the end of the year with the breakdown.

It also means you don't get the freelancer's second best friend next to free food: deductions.

In a nutshell, W-2 money is good and bad. Good because you don't have to remember to pay those pesky quarterly taxes like you do on the gross 1099 income, and the agency pays half the employee tax. Bad because you don't get all the samolians.

I've always been good with money - go figure. So I prefer 1099 income. I'd rather juggle my money accordingly and pay my own taxes. I also have this little pet peeve about the government reaching into my pocket, or paycheck, and taking money out.

Among all the papers you sign for W-2 income is an agreement that even though you're considered a temporary employee, you're not entitled to any benefits.

Including getting the full amount you're owed on your check.

They're Fine. They're Young. They're Cannibals.

As group names go, the Fine Young Cannibals was a good one. Besides spawning a ton of delicious chanti and fava bean jokes, the FYC also gave birth to many number one singles around the world, and two in the U.S.

She Drives Me Crazy and Good Thing.

For a while you couldn't switch to any radio station without hearing SDMC, or go to any club where they weren't playing it. I remember this one night in particular at Starwood. I was wearing my platform shoes and bell bottoms...

Perhaps I've said too much already.

Anyway, time marches on, and the lead singer of the FYC, Roland Gift, is 53 years old now. He's still touring, singing a few FYC songs but mostly his own. I can't tell you exactly why, but it makes me happy he's still out there doing it.

I never thought the 80's were a stellar decade for music. But at least there was one song that drove me crazy for the right reasons.

Pod squad

You simply cannot overestimate the rejuvenating effect of a serious power nap.

This is apparently something the fine people at the Abu Dhabi airport appreciate. They've installed these GoSleep sleeping pods that you can rent for an hour, or a few hours, and catch up on some shut eye while you're waiting for your connecting flight.

The beauty of these beauties is they recline 180 degrees, and you can leave them partially open or close them completely to block out the light and noise.

When they're completely closed, they look like those plastic pencil cases we used to use in elementary school. So, not just sleep friendly. Also retro chic.

I think the reason these appeal to me so much is because I haven't slept eight solid hours in years (I love my kids, I love my dogs, I love my kids, I love my dogs, I love my kids, I love my dogs...). So if there's even a chance, a glimmer of hope, the slightest possibility I can do some catching up, I'm happy to fire up the charge card, lay myself down, close myself up and sleep tight for as long as I can.

If it turns out that these pods really provide the rest they promise, I'll literally roll out of bed, go to the airport and roll back into bed.

Of course, airports aren't the first ones to appreciate what an quick nap can do for you.

And if you work in an ad agency, you know they're not even the first ones to have sleep pods.

Standard issue

Wander around agencies today - especially those on the west side, not that I'm making certain assumptions - and you'll see a lot of similar accoutrements.

There is of course the open office seating plan, designed to increase communication, stimulate creativity, create departmental interaction and drastically lower agency overhead and reflect better on the annual P&L audit by not having to build out offices for everyone.

Guess which one of these it does best.

You'll probably also see the Peet's Coffee machine, offering lattes, extra shots of vanilla and chocolate, hot chocolate made with water (just like mom used to make), as well as dark, strong coffee's bastard red-headed stepchild, tea.

There'll be no shortage of hipster planners with knit caps, tight jeans, iPhone 6's, piercings and piercing insights into the clients business. Things like "People buy (CAR NAME HERE) because they want an innovative, reliable car."

You'll see The Meeting Place. This can be a basketball court, an inside park or even a large centrally located staircase where staff meetings can be held for any number of reasons. Winning a client. Losing a client. Pep talk. Annual work review. Birthdays for that month. The reason isn't really the important thing. The important thing is it's usually about an hour no one has to do anything except eat bagels and pretend they're listening.

More often than not, what you'll also see is a foosball table. It's usually located near the vending machines, or in a former conference room along with a well-worn leather couch and some leftover swivel chairs.

Riddle me this: what's the deal with foosball?

I can count on one hand how many times I've actually seen anyone using them. Of course, I can also count on one hand how many times a planner has given me an insight worth a tenth of what they're being paid. I might be getting off topic here.

The point is, how about 86'ing the foosball table for something people actually use to blow off the stress of coming up with outdoor headlines like, "The 2015 (CAR MAKER) (CAR MODEL)."

Sure, we make it look easy. But it's not.

I'd like to suggest a pool table, because everyone likes holding the cue and pretending they're Paul Newman in The Hustler. Since there's no smoking allowed within twenty feet of the building, you won't be able to let a cigarette with a burned down ash dangle from the corner of your mouth the way Newman did. But maybe if no one's looking you can get away with a vape e-cig.

Or a ping pong table. The ball makes a nice sound, and it's easy to ace the other player if you're serving. Plus you can take that half crouching, swaying side-to-side stance that, combined with the creased brow and intense stare, makes it look like you're playing a game that really matters.

I believe foosball tables have seen their day. The time has come for them to be relegated to history's scrapheap of agency furnishings we once thought we couldn't live without: The bean bag chair. The cork wall board in offices (when they had offices). The oversized Lichtenstein print.

Classic foosball tables can run over $5,000. If an agency is going to spend that kind of money, it may as well spend it on something more meaningful and worthwhile.

Like a higher quality pizza at the 2 a.m. regroup.

The in betweens

In the freelance world, there are all types of people and personalities. Most noticeably, there are the ones who shouldn't be freelancers. They simply don't have the finely honed skills to deal with what I like to call the in betweens.

Those periods of time - sometimes long, sometimes short - between gigs where you've finished one job and have no idea where the next one is coming from.

Some call it limbo or purgatory. I call it heaven.

I just finished up working on a national car account at one of my favorite agencies to freelance at. I liked the people I worked with, I enjoyed the work I did and I love the creative services person who brings me in whenever they can.

Here's the thing: that gig is up, and I have no idea what's waiting on deck. But I do know from experience and faith that something is, and it'll get here eventually.

This is the skill I have people who aren't cut out for this don't: I don't go crazy when I'm not working. I don't climb walls or stress out. I learned long ago if all I think about is working when I'm not working, and wanting time off when I am, then it's a lose-lose proposition and I'm not going to be happy either way.

Maybe it's a gift, but I take my in between time off for exactly what it is. Time off. I catch up with things around the house and things I've wanted to do but don't have the time when I'm employed. The garage gets cleaned. Books get read. Screenplays get worked on. Posts get written. Shows on the DVR get watched (I'm particularly good at this one). Dogs get walked. Kids get picked up. Lunches get taken. Laundry gets done (I love doing laundry - one of the long list of reasons I'm a catch).

Sure it's always nice to know where the next check is coming from, but if I don't know now I will when I'm supposed to.

Don't get me wrong, I don't just leave it all up to chance and the universe - I would never be that cavalier with my career (trying to stop laughing cause I used the word "career"). I do make the effort. I send out emails, check in with friends and find out what's going on around town. Like all freelancers, I play dialing for dollars on a regular basis. But I don't play it all day every day. And it's not the only game I know. Besides, a watched pot, well, you get my drift.

Anyway, as much as I'd like to talk more about this, I really have to get going.

After all, Breaking Bad isn't going to binge watch itself.