Face the music

I have a lot of sympathy for actors, especially women, who feel they need to have a nip and tuck just to stay competitive in an industry that worships youth, and tosses anyone over thirty to the curb.

But as Joan Rivers, Jocelyn Wildenstein (the cat lady in New York) and Priscilla Presley would be the first to tell you, sometimes the results are less than what you hoped for.

I feel particularly sad for Lara Flynn Boyle.

I know she made the decision to do it, and I know she has to live with the consequences. But you have to wonder what she saw when she looked in the mirror that drove her to such extremes. It obviously wasn't the beautiful, talented actor the rest of the world saw.

I'm not a doctor. I don't even play one on TV. It's just my opinion that sometimes there's a thin line between doing what you have to do and mental illness.

LFB was in one of my favorite films ever, John Dahl's Red Rock West with Nic Cage. She also displayed her comedy chops in Wayne's World, and her very sinister side in The Temp. Sadly every time I see one of her films now, it's overlaid with a veneer of pity and sadness for her each time she's on screen.

Rumor has it she's had some corrective surgery to regain some semblance of her former self. But unless she has a DeLorean that goes 88 mph, I don't think her former looks are coming back any time soon.

I hear people joke about celebrities that have plastic surgery, but I get it. No one is harder and more critical of our physical looks than we are. Times a thousand for people who make a living being looked at by millions of people.

While it's obvious LFB won't get the roles she used to, I hope she's able to continue working in the industry. On her IMDB page, she's just completed a low-budget family film directed by the same person who did Gabe The Cupid Dog and Unstable.

Be that as it may, I'm grateful at least someone in town looks past the surface, and still sees a talented actor looking back.

Snow balls

I'm going to cop to a little bait-and-switch on this particular post. It's not about snow balls. Well, it is - just not the kind pictured here.

I'll try to be delicate.

I'm lucky enough to have a nice Japanese luxury car. It has many features designed to make the driver, and the ride, as comfortable as possible. One of those features happens to be perforated leather seats, which come that way from the factory - although with a dog and kids, they'd eventually wind up that way anyway.

The seats are perforated because they're both heated and cooled, depending on which makes you more comfortable on a hot or cold day. I've used the seat heater many times. Since I've owned the car, I've never used the seat cooler. Until today.

Now, I'm not the only one who drives my car. My wife drives it, and so does my son. Both of them have a habit of leaving the seat heater on when I get the car back.

Today, I was driving up to Marmalade Cafe to meet my good friend Carrie for lunch. As I was flying up the 405, riding on rails and listening to Tony Bennett singing For Once In My Life, it suddenly dawned on me that, how shall I put this, the jewels were a little chilly.

Not knowing the seat cooler had been left on high, and never having used it, I wasn't familiar with the sensation. And frankly, it wasn't my first thought.

My first thought was that something was terribly wrong with the boys.

After a quick investigation - which must've been very entertaining for the cars next to me - I finally figured out the seat cooler had been left on.

Oddly enough, once I knew nothing was wrong, it just felt right.

The Con is on. Again.

I don't usually repost pieces on here. But it's the Comic Con time of year again, and I was going to write a post about going. Again. But then I reread this little gem and realized it said exactly what I wanted to say. Again. We don't have to re-invent the wheel each time out people. Let's just take tonight's post at face value, and enjoy the writing for what it is - an excuse not to think of something new to write. Wait? Did I say that out loud?

Don't say you haven't been warned. For four and a half days this week, my son and I will be living amongst 'em (well, actually we'll be living at the Hilton and walking amongst 'em, but no one's under oath here): the Stormtroopers, Wolverines, Lara Crofts, Jokers, Iron Men, Darth Vaders, Zombies, Batmen, Supermen and other assorted, costumed inhabitants of Comic Con.

As you can see here and here, this isn't the first time I've written about the Con. And it won't be the last.

Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not saying it's the only subject I'll post about for the next few days. But if you happen to notice my writing in the Thursday through Sunday posts have a nerdist, geekesque, maybe-I-ought-to-get-a-life, gee-he-sounds-REALLY-tired quality to them, then I've done my job and you'll know we're having a fine time.

For those who've never been - and really, like the Rolling Stones or Rick Perry trying to complete a sentence, it's something you need to see at least once in your life - please to enjoy this little taste of my next four days.

Welcome to my world.

What time does the bus get here?

There are all kinds of signs to help us navigate the roads: Stop. Yield. Merge. Slow. Pedestrian Crossing. Deer crossing. Falling rocks. Lane ends.

So how come there aren't warning signs like this one to help navigate the business world?

It's not like it doesn't happen. It happens on a daily basis. If you're in advertising and it happens to you, all it means is you showed up one day.

Like getting laid off, losing a client, not getting a bonus, canceling a vacation or listening to agency pep talks, it's inevitable at some point someone's going to figuratively throw you under the bus.

It'd be nice to at least get a warning.

Maybe it’s like that team of brainiacs at Cal Tech who've spent the last twenty years of their lives working on an advanced earthquake warning system. They still haven't perfected it, and probably for the same reason agencies don't post signs like this.

There's no way to be a hundred per cent accurate. And they can't predict when it'll happen.

What's interesting to me about this particular sign is how you can’t tell which figure has what job. I can’t tell who’s the thrower and who's the throwee.

For instance, I'd be hard pressed to tell you if it's the account person tossing the creative under the bus. Or the creative director kicking one of his team under, just after he trashed their storyboard in a client meeting in favor of one he did that no one saw until two minutes ago.

Maybe it’s the client kicking the agency under after seeing that crap storyboard the creative director pulled out of his ass at the last minute.

Who’s to say.

All I know is even though there aren't actual, physical signs warning you when a colleague is going to boot you under the Metro, there are signs nonetheless.

Watch for them.

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.

In the bag

Whether we like it or not, everyone in the ad biz deals with demographics – the quantifiable statistics of a certain group - every day.

Age, household income, habits, geographical location, political leanings, purchasing habits, consideration cycles, tv shows watched. Every thing you do and everything you are is broken down so advertisers can talk to you in a way you'll allegedly want to listen to.

It’s frightening how much information is available on any given group of people at any given moment.

What a lot of people in different demos have in common is they all take a great amount of pride in classifying themselves as non-conformists. Unique in their category. Of course, were that true, we wouldn’t be able to lump them in the same category.

One group in particular, and I have some first-hand experience with this, likes to think of themselves as rugged individualists, blazing their own trail, living life on their terms - loners not playing by anyone’s rules but their own.

Copywriters.

And while they may be marching to their own drum in other areas of life, many fall right in step with each other when it comes to a common accessory: their laptop bag.

The bag of choice? The Swiss Army backpack.

I can only speak for myself here, but the reason I love this bag is all the storage options. Zippers and pockets and nets, oh my. For someone like me, who uses the "just in case" theory whenever I pack - which is the reason I look like I'm moving in when I go on an overnight business trip - the Swiss Army backpack lets me carry every thing I need for almost any imaginary contingency I run into.

For example, I've had a deck of Bicycle playing cards in one of the netted side pockets for years. It's a holdover from when my good friend, sometimes art director partner and co-conspirator Mike Stone and I took magic classes at the Magic Castle (the first thing we learned was how to make $265 disappear). You never know, I might've been walking down the street or in a client meeting and had the sudden and unstoppable urge to show someone Stopped Aces, or The Matchmaker.

Pick a card, any card.

One of the zippered compartments has a varied assortment of computer connection cords that may be from my Powerbook 3400. Or my Macintosh Performa 6210. Maybe my Powerbook G4. I'm not sure - I've never used them.

Yet another compartment is my portable medicine chest: Aspirin. Ocean Nasal Spray. Coricidin. Pepto Bismal. Each and every one of them years past their expiration date. But at least they've been stored in a cool, dry place.

In the netted pocket on the other side is a bottle of water that should only be used to water plants. If you want to kill the plants.

And in the vast, canyon-like laptop compartment, which is what I initially bought the backpack for, is nothing. I long ago traded carrying the backpack around for a smaller, lighter Incase laptop bag. It doesn't let me carry nearly as much, but that's probably a good thing.

I guess just owning the Swiss Army bag puts me in the demo with all the other copywriters that have one. And I know what you're thinking: Just like every other writer, he's probably going to end this post with some snappy, clever line that has several meanings and works on so many levels.

But, being the non-conformist I am, I won't.

For my own amusement

I was reading this article about things you can do, knowingly or not, that'll get you kicked out of an amusement park. Which would definitely ruin your day, and make the park the opposite of whatever the happiest place on earth is.

Then I started thinking, and not for the first time, what would it take to get kicked out of an ad agency? Agencies are notoriously tolerant of personalities that wouldn't last ten minutes in any other business. In fact, more often than not those people are rewarded for their bad behavior. They fail up. For the rest of us it's like living in opposite world.

Anyway, I decided to quickly draw up a by no means complete or scientific Agency/Amusement Park Ejection Equivalency Chart to see how things that get you tossed out of parks would fare in the agency world.

So face forward, buckle your seat belt and keep your arms and hands inside the car.

Big Coolers

Hard-sided coolers are prohibited at Universal, SeaWorld and Disney. Universal also prohibits soft coolers larger than 8.5 in wide x 6 in high x 6 in deep.

The biggest concern agencies have about coolers is if they have enough beer in them for everybody to go with the pizza they bring in on Summer Fridays, or at the annual pep talk.

Dressing Up As Your Favorite Disney Character

In accordance with park policy, adults who dress in attire that looks too similar to a real Disney character may be asked to leave.

The last thing agencies care about is what someone wears. One of the great benefits of the business is that no matter how long you’ve been in it, you can still dress like a 15-year old. Knit caps. Hoodies. Jeans. T-shirts. Sleeping Beauty. Pocahontas. Mr. Incredible. It’s all good. Even account people don’t have to wear suits and ties, although it’s still easy to spot them. Their jeans are creased.

Markers & Paint

Think again before unleashing your street art skills during your next visit to a theme park. Parks spend millions of dollars each year to maintain their facilities and keep grounds clean. Wannabe graffiti taggers are certainly not welcome at Six Flags parks where magic markers and spray paints of any kind are expressly prohibited.

Are you kidding? Markers and paints are tools of the trade. As far as spray paint, well, you usually find that in the parking lot near that huffing sound.

Packing A Picnic

While small snack items are permitted at Universal Orlando, packing a full meal is prohibited. Per park policy, there is a ban on “picnic lunches” and “food that requires heating or refrigeration.”

You know the old saying about an army traveling on its stomach? So does an agency. There’s almost always food to be found. Whether it’s brought in for late night work sessions, left over from a client presentation, or – and this is usually the good food – brought in by a production company/media rep who wants you to look at a reel. There’s also assorted candy, cookies, sodas and sour grapes lying around. Lots of sour grapes.

Obscene Tattoos

If you have a tattoo that may be considered offensive, try a long sleeve shirt or you may be kicked out of a Disney park. They prohibit “obscene tattoos” but do not define parameters.

Let’s put it this way: you can be kicked out of an agency for not having a tattoo.The more obscene the better. It shows you're edgy, bold, and don't give a damn what the man thinks. Unless the man is the guy at the unemployment office. Then you're going to want to wear long sleeves.

Feeding The Animals

While Disney’s Animal Kingdom and SeaWorld offer visitors the opportunity to pet or feed certain animals under attendant supervision, feeding one of these animals on your time can result in swift eviction from Disney, SeaWorld, and Six Flags.

See Packing A Picnic.

It's easy to see agencies are pretty loose and freewheelin' when it comes to the kinds of concerns amusement parks fret about. By the way, this isn't the first time I've compared ad agencies to amusement parks. I also did it here. The reason I keep doing it is they just have so many things in common.

Although I'm not sure which roller-coaster ride makes me scream louder.