40 the new 90

Before I got into Advertising people constantly told me how unstable the business was. Where was the job security? They would ask. I would inevitably come back with a cocky ‘fuck job security’. Job security went out the window years ago. Corporate America rewards a lifetime of devotion and work from one of it’s own with a kick in the but and forced retirement. At fucking Grey advertising they’ve got a policy called HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS whereby they fire people right before Christmas to balance their books. They’d come home the night before Xmas like George Bailey in its A Wonderful Life just as he’s jumping off the town bridge. Except there wasn’t any angel to redirect him and save him. Perhaps unemployment and a lower paying job at a shittier agency.

Now the Japs, they’ve got it down. You work for the same company for 30 years and they take care of you the rest of your life. There is a gold watch in that country. Christ you really are part of a team. Probably cause if you come into work late you feel like you’ve let the whole country down.
But this isn’t Japan. And what security was I going to have telling dick jokes at 3 in the morning? So I jumped into the fray.
But soon enough I saw what happens to the old horses that have their run and somehow don’t make the Preakness so to speak.

Unlike becoming a lawyer, doctor, engineer, professor, plumber, electrician, even cop, in Advertising, one’s age becomes a liability. By 45 if you haven’t become a C.E.O., started your own agency, or been part of some stock buy out, you are plain and simple fucked. Rather than see your experience, understanding markets, dealing with clients and fine-tuning your conceptual thinking. You are an embarrassment. God help you if your hair turns grey. Party’s over then.
Plus add to that the hours and travel. And just plain energy. At 40 you simply can’t compete with some 24 year old with no responsibilities, a 5 o’clock shadow, 3 roommates and a desire to win the awards you already did 10 times already. Plus they’re hipper to what is the new thing in the media. Because advertising is a mirror of popular culture, whatever it descends into.
If you don’t know who won American Idol, or who want’s to be a trillionaire you better step out of the way. I’d see the older guys with the frightened look of the older wildebeest that is starting to slow down as the herd runs from the cheetah.
It’s kind of like being a professional athlete only you have a longer lifespan, or at least one would hope so. You have your great years. With all the accolades and press. Then the middle management years where you get to swagger around the office and fuck with junior’s heads. Maybe boink a few secretaries occasionally. And then like the basketball player who’s been injured once too many, a limp sets in. and you simply can’t run faster and jump higher in your brand new Keds anymore.

And to a person, nobody ever saves enough money up. At least no one that I know. Oh sure they plan on it. But after a week of insane hours or abusive clients, C.E.O.’s or bosses you’ve just got to treat yourself to that new something. Sure you fight with the wife about it. But goddamnit you’re the one busting your balls on the avenue all week. Don’t they get it?

A mid life crisis in Advertising is when you start working for someone you taught at the school of visual arts, 14 years ago. It’s when some new swinging dick has become chief creative officer and wants to start hiring his friends.

One good thing about where I work is that they never fired people. They treat them like shit and when they become too old they simply move them to the back of the agency and put them on accounts like Tampons. Christ once I got lost and went in the wrong direction in the creative department and it was like a walk through the ‘whatever happened to?’ exhibit at Universal Studios. The Advertising equivalent of the Jan Michael Vincent, Anthony Michael Hall, Tony Danza, and Joni Loves Chachi exhibit.
Some of these old creative just sat and stared out their window that is if they had them. Others sat there with shaking hands trying to keep the type on a print ad straight.

Clients knew it too. At one meeting I went to one of the clients piped up
‘What are you bringing this old war horse up here for?’ The old warhorse was a very, very famous copywriter. Needless to say, his stock went way down at the agency and when firing time came near guess that got it.

Another phenomenon I’ve never gotten was this. An agency would lose an account. Because of less revenue it would fire a shit load of people. Then it would get a new account and it would have to staff up again. But never did I ever hear about the people who got fired asked back again. Even if they had done a great job.

Well I’m still working. But when I turn 40? I’m gonna be a hit man.

Is everyone calling themselves Adman?

I guess Adman is the safest name you can use.

Working At Starbucks Saved My Life what b.s.

You know that book about the ad guy who got laid off and then got a job at Starbucks and had this karmic revelation that changed his life? And the book sold like a million copies? Well I just found out the whole story is total fabrication! It's an ad guy who had a 'big idea'. And once again some wanker tricked the American public!!! I wonder if he cut a deal with Starbucks in the first place.
Isn't it odd that the book came out just before Starbucks announced it was offering health insurance?
I've been trying to get a job overseas. I heard they were hiring in Dubai. But now that market is glutted. And I'm a Jew. I put down on the application that I was a Quaker.
Then I looked in Moscow. BBDO Moscow to be exact. I figured what the hell. If I get kidnapped by the Russian Mafia it can't be worse than working at Home Depot. But BBDO said they were full up. I asked where else I should try in Russia. The headhunter told me try Vladivostock sp?. But then I found out it had been a gulag for poltical dissidents. And the winter temp got to be like 150 below zero, before wind chill. The only account they had was , hell I don't think they had any accounts.

Anyone got any ideas? I suppose I could write a book called "Working in a gulag changed my life". But didn't Alexander Solchinetzan write that book?

I should have been a plumber

One thing I learned from advertising is that shit really does rise to the top. The numbers of completely incompetent people who became agency presidents, c.e.o.s, e.c.d.s and whatever is truly shocking. I witnessed battles between complete power hungry morons, sadists, thieves and people who in any other profession would have been kicked out on their asses. If it were in the Mafia for example they'd be stacking the bodies in the Traffic Department. The saying that 'the last one standing becomes sheriff is totally true'. Usually, the most quiet, least troublesome creative became e.c.d. after a big battle. Someone who they could often control. Now clients have more power than ever, and because of the mess Bush left us with, clients are not spending one penny. I heard that in the last 3 months 86,000 people were fired or laid off.
I should have listened to my grandfather and become a plumber.

The Magic That was Charlie

When I worked at BBDO there was this major Creative Director, Charlie. He was legendary for his cruelty. He'd have everyone in his half of the agency come into the hall and say Pizzz Hut was in trouble. He'd then say 'if we don't save this account, everybody look to the left of you and to the right of you and that's who will be fired. So I'm gonna look at work on Sunday night at 7 p.m. And if you want to keep your jobs you better be there. This was like on a Friday afternoon. So everybody would work all weekend and low and behold Charlie wouldn't show up on Sunday at 7:00 p.m. or at 8, 9 , 10 or 11. He wouldn't come in at all. He'd be off fucking some new girlfriend of his. He was on like his 4th marriage. Then Monday we'd get in a line outside his office. Then he'd call in his favorite 5 guys who he played basketball with at lunch and they'd all come up with some dogshit spot. Then Charlie would come out into the hall and say 'thanks everybody we've got it covered'. But it get's worse. Rumor has it that during an important client meeting, a very attractive account woman came rushing into the meeting late. All the seats were filled. She said "I've got no where to sit". Charlie responded, in front of the client, 'honey, as long as I've got a face, you've got a place to sit'. The woman rushed out of the room. She sued him but settled for like 100 grand. this was before the real sexual harrasment suits started.

By Anonymous

career hari kari

I was a jr. account executive on Evian. I actually witnessed this. It was awesome. I wrote it up as a short story cause I thought if might be entertaining. What the hell. I should mention who it is. But I won't. Call me a pussy.

Career Hari Kari

‘Never over estimate your own worth’.
It’s the biggest mistake an ad guy can make. And the guys that did where always easy to spot. The key was expensive Italian loafers worn with no socks. One particularly arrogant guy who worked at our agency left for a higher paying job. A much higher paying job. So much higher paying that his already inflated ego swelled to a bursting point in spades. His expensive suits and of course the loafers and no socks projected an air of confidence that fooled the agency owners who hired him into believing he had client diplomatic skills to match that ego.
Now often times a small time client would actually be intimidated by such a character. But not this time. Because at last he had met his match. The French. Parisian to be exact. Evian. And for close to 50 years they had seen agencies come and go. And today they would see another one go.



Now sometimes there are events that can start the downward spiral of any adman.
This was one of those times. The adman let’s call him Mitch was on his way into freelance oblivian. Mitch had been in a car accident with his Ferrari, yet another expression of an ego run wild.
He had broken his leg in three places. And while his cast was off he was still on a cocktail of painkillers that Elvis would have envied.
When the day of the meeting came, the agency owner said to Mitch ‘are you sure you’re o.k.?’.
Mitch responded ‘hey man, I lived in, I know these guys better than they know themselves’.
The agency owner fell for it like a first year art student getting ‘special’ attention by her professor.
The client came in, and being French, the agency had a little ‘cocktail party’ before the meeting.
Platters of cheeses and caviar were served along with a fine array of Whites, Roses and Chablis. Mitch made small talk like a pro. Even throwing in a spattering of French to boot. The agency owner relaxed like a sumo getting a rubdown after a shoving match.
The client’s cheeks were soon flushed with warmth and a feeling of security and actual fondness for these American Pig Dogs.
Now meanwhile all the percoset, darvon and codeine that had been coursing through Mitch’s bloodstream began to mix with all that fine French wine.
He soon felt a warm afterglow. But this was only the start of something far more serious. For as the ‘cocktail’ of narcotics and alcohol passed through the blood brain barrier in his cerebral cortex his judgment just floated away. He felt like a Ad God. It wasn’t just his account. It was his agency. In fact, Evian was his company. In fact, he himself had single handedly discovered the Evian ‘source’ while hiking with Hilda his leiterhaused valkyrian goddess who he met daily to play hide the salami while in art school. When he closed his eyes, sunflowers and clear, gurgling, mountain streams flooded his noodle.
As the meeting started Mitch leaned back in one of the agency’s $900.00 black leather chairs and his lids began to get heavy.
The agency owner noticed this and whispered ‘Mitch Mitch!’
Mitch didn’t even acknowledge him.
The French client then took out a huge breathtaking $4000.00 photographic photo of the French Alps, with an Evian Bottle in front of them. It took three secretaries to hold it up. All eyes were upon it. The French were smiling. The unspoken message in the room was ‘if you understand the photo you understand us’. And if the agency did that they would be graced with their 30 million dollar account. With the further honor of constantly licking those French bastards arses as well. But it would be worth every penny. It was so silent in the room, you could have heard a pin drop. The agency owner let the beats pass and then gracefully made a slight pre speaking whimpering sound. And then he did indeed kiss some French ass big time. He spoke with pride of Evian’s proud heritage with the Alps. An icon of purity, unspoiled beauty and the ‘source’. The very spot where Evian’s nectar flowed from.

The French clients nodded their heads and whispered in French ‘at last we have found the right American pigs that understand our brand’.
Silence reigned except perhaps for the occasional slurp of wine. Then the agency owner spoke the last four words that would guarantee that house in the Bahamas he had been planning to buy slipped through his hands forever.
“What do you think Mitch?”
Mitch opened his eyes startled. The client had taken his closed eyes as a sign that he too was moved beyond words. That he was having a transcendent experience of brand love.
Mitch stood up. He gripped the table to steady himself, swaying slightly. By now he had gone completely bananas. All eyes were upon him.
The client’s eyes quickly darted over his Armani suit, his Hermes tie and his impeccable Euro sabqufare. His rosy cheeks, which were the result of their fine French Rose he so greedily imbibed. Added to his picture of Ad success. He paused.
Then he spoke slightly slurring his words.
He spoke in the arrogant manner of a prep school dandy, drunk and trying to impress all around him.
“Listen man. The Alps don’t mean shit. I mean who the fuck cares?....”
Before Mitch could finish his sentence the agency owner was on his feet talking a mile a minute. Verbally backing up at light speed, explaining how Mitch was new to the account, but that perhaps they had seen his award winning work on Renault (throwing in any French car he could think of even one that had gone out of business years ago).
But indeed the guillotine had dropped. The French began to rapidly talk in their native tongue between themselves. Making no eye contact with anyone from the agency at all. And to top it all off, no one from the agency actually spoke French.
They quickly got up and headed for the door. As the last client left, the agency owner ran up to him and said ‘let me explain! You’re unhappy. I can see that. But we love the Alps. Why just the other day I was saying to my wife, ‘gee honey, we don’t get to the Alps enough’. ‘Please don’t leave’. ‘We can fix this’. ‘We loved the photo’ in a panic he turned to the assistant handing the clients their coats. ‘Didn’t you love the photo?’ ‘See he loved it’ ‘we all loved it’. And with a whoosh they were gone from the room. It was silent again. All eyes turned to Mitch.
With everyone staring at him he muttered ‘fucking French’ and fell back into his chair.
One by one everyone left the room. And there was Mitch all alone, slumped in his chair snoring across from the giant photo of the alps.
Mitch spent the rest of the day sleeping on his black leather couch in his corner office. At 5 when he staggered out of the agency with a pounding headache, his town car wasn’t waiting for him. When he got home he fell into bed. The next morning when the alarm went off there were already 5 messages from the agency owner who screamed the same six words into the phone.
‘We lost the account you fuck ’.
Mitch didn’t have to go into work that day. Or the next or ever again. The story spread all over town like wildfire.
By the end of the week Mitch couldn’t have gotten hired art directing coupons at Safeway. So he did what anyone who wears Italian loafers without socks would do. He went to Italy on vacation.
When he returned it took him 9 months to get a job. And two things happened. He became a tad less arrogant. And he always wore socks with his imported Italian loafers.

MADISON AVENUE WAR STORIES

Let's face it. Our business sucks. And chances are, you've witnessed things, heard stories and if you're like the rest of us, been screwed over by some real bastards. This is a site to let it all out.
Totally anonymously. Name, names or not. NO ONE WILL EVER, EVER KNOW. Cause we all know that a whole lot of shit went down that no one would believe and everyone in our business should know. Cause before they run back into their little holes, we all should know what 'they' did.
SO LET IT OUT!!! Tell the stories we all should know, and while your at it: Rant, Rave, Laugh, Scream and make the rest of us do it. Cause folks if this ain't the time to do it, I don't know when will be.

ANONYMOUS