Who else is raking it in?
Just booked a ticket to Cabo, last-minute.
Tonight, I’ll belly up to the sushi bar at Sushi Den and gorge on sashimi, sushi, sake and Kirin.
Then I’ll hit the ATM, take out $200 and head downtown. Probably start at The Cruise Room. Top-shelf vodka martini. Dry. Three olives. Dance floor fuel.
Who’s with me?
However, I do have to be out of bed by two tomorrow, so after hours may not happen. (Never know though.) My new leather sofa and easy chair are being delivered.
I want them perfectly arranged before the Avs. 10 rows up. Center ice.
Before this goes any further, I should say that God didn’t bless me with much.
But one thing God did grant me was a hyperactive, ultra-vivid imagination.
It delivers moments of serenity after instances like my landlord reminding me that I haven’t paid rent yet. Like I need reminding.
Here’s the lay of the land, from my view. And there are exceptions on both ends.
Some love every second of their agency job. They’re enjoying raises, opportunities at great work, the goodness.
Others are living the freelance dream, working with dynamic, intelligent clients who pay well AND pay on time. This group politely tells the half-witted, abusive companies that as much as they’d love to take on their project, their bandwidth is maxed.
Good for these two groups. And I’m not being sarcastic. This world craps on achievement. I wish we embraced it more.
And then, there is us.
You either have a full-time job, yet daily feel like the new inmate on Cell Block D, and guess what? It’s shower time! Your world is canceling weekend plans and being thankful you’re employed. Hey, I’ve been there. Felt that pain.
Or, you’re like me: hustling to find work, tolerating potential clients asking you to revisit that estimate you’ve already revisited. While you’re severely annoyed, the ripple effects from that project that died two months ago are kicking in.
Oh sorry. It didn’t “die.” It’s “on hold.”
You hold your breath before opening your mailbox. Nope, that other client’s check—the one that way more than covers the overdue rent—isn’t in there today, either.
Anybody got Tony Soprano’s cell number?
But besides earning a dollar, life is good for most freelancers I know. Maybe 18 months ago, I realized that the whole world is struggling. It wasn’t just me.
I developed a new dimension of appreciation for the phrase, “Fuck it.”
And whenever a person with a full-time job gives me that pitiful look—usually after droning on about how evil their company is—and asks how it is out here, my reply is “Whatever. The lights are on.”
You’re not booking a vacation anytime soon, but you’re catching up on reading and painting your ass off. Getting sunburned in Wash Park on a Tuesday afternoon.
“The lights are on” is the self-employed person’s “I’m thankful to have a job.”
So the title of this article was my stab at being a wise-ass, right?
Not at all.
About a year ago, it hit me. Even with all of the negatives right now, one huge positive is happening. If times were better, this would never be possible.
This economy is destroying everything that is wrong with this industry.
We are at a crossroads, never seen before.
These days, dog-and-pony shows cost money. Before, they were necessary. This is advertising, man. The Image Business®. The client needs ten t-shirts with our recommended promotional concept silk-screened on the front of it. This shows that we stand behind the idea. We’ll figure out how to bill them for this later.
Concentrating on the short-term: a buttoned-up, bells-and-whistles-filled meeting where many pleasantries are exchanged, yet little is accomplished, used to be what our business was all about. Who cares about the long-term? That sounds so far away.
Taking two hours to have a 30-minute status meeting used to demonstrate client commitment.
Now, this is wasting 90 minutes of a team’s time. 90 minutes that could have been spent addressing the lagging sales curve.
Clients want us to truly accept the fact that—while we are artists, working somewhat in the entertainment business—we also work in the stuff-selling business.
And the stuff-selling business is receiving a long-overdue bullshit-ectomy, courtesy of the Great Recession.
Showing off that $4000 painting you found in Santa Fe nowadays—you know, the one hanging above the receptionist’s handcrafted desk—umm, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.
Clients won’t track with your reasoning that it makes your space—and the work you do for them—so much more creative.
They’re going to wonder where you shoehorned its price into their bill.
They don’t want brand awareness. They need their widgets in consumers’ hands. As their vendors, we need their widgets in consumers’ hands.
Two types of people exist in our industry. Scenario: a client comes to you with a $100,000 marketing budget.
Type one wants to be well compensated to apply their expertise, talent, experience and diligence in helping the client get the most mileage out of that $100,000. If some late nights and weekends are needed, no biggie. That’s what they signed on for.
Type two immediately starts strategizing about how to pocket as much of that $100,000 as possible. They burn the midnight oil devising justifications for their gigantic estimate. They list out vendors who are cool with padding estimates. Every opportunity to tack on extra money is examined.
Ever hear the agency-ese term “profit center”? Many times, when translated into English, it means “client-gouging opportunity”. A 25-30% markup for brokering an outside service is completely fair.
125-130% is stealing.
Type one is a Marketing Communications Professional.
Type two is unethical.
If this sounds harsh, guess what? Type two was our contribution to the Great Recession.
Wall Street wasn’t the only guilty party. Madison Avenue had a hand in it, too.
Type one will be our industry’s contribution to the economic recovery.
The Great Recession has its crosshairs on type two.
You know what’s inherently beautiful about a crossroads? Sure, there are pitfalls out there in the abyss.
But I’m wagering there are bridges out there as well.
Bridges that lead to some stunning places, better than any of us can imagine at the moment because we’re all busy trying to get by.
Think about why you got into this business. Then take a minute and list out what makes you hate this business.
Remember: you’re at a crossroads. Out here, you can perfect the good and eradicate the bad at the same time.
Chaos is cool like that.
A decades-old quote, supposedly from a client, was “Half of my advertising budget is wasted. Problem is, I have no idea which half.”
Well, The Great Recession is demanding we as marketing professionals find out which half is which. Now.
It’s forcing us to make our work, well, work.
Some people think this fact is a negative. And they’re the ones holding our industry back.
They’re holding our clients—and economic growth—back.
Sound grandiose? Applied correctly, our craft drives businesses forward. As the saying goes, the right creative makes one marketing dollar work like two.
Those of you in the workforce who yearn for the old days, who wish things would just go back to the way they were, it’s time to let go.
The way things were? They landed us here.
You’re holding out for the ex. That ex who isn’t going to call, tell you how wrong they were, then beg you to take them back.
You know why I thank the economic meltdown?
It forced me to evolve in ways that I always wanted to, only were both too lazy and terrified of doing before. It seemed so unfamiliar. So scary.
My annoying jobs before? Hoo-boy were they well-paying yet annoying jobs.
A writer’s pain, say, mid-2007 (each discipline from Account Service to Media to Illustration to WebDev to Design has their own brand of pain. I totally empathize. Just giving you a snapshot of ours.):
“Ummm… we looked at your copy. And well… here, where you say ‘double the amount’… we feel your copy isn’t very good copy. In fact, it’s horrible. So instead, um… we should say ‘twice the amount.’ See, that’s much better copy… MISTER Copywriter.”
Good call. Market share would disintegrate if we said “double” instead of “twice.”
“And where you write ‘we’ll send you”, we’d like to say ‘you’ll receive’.”
You’ll receive my foot in your ass if my invoice isn’t paid in thirty days.
No one has asked me to spin my wheels lately. These days, why would people want me to do this? Wheel-spinning is inefficient.
There’s a name for the type of job that has died on me: Dig A Hole, Then Fill It.
These days, plenty of holes are already out there. In fact, market share is flowing directly into these holes. Why dig more?
If you’ve been in this business a while, you’ve been asked to show off.
Wow ‘em.
Dance.
These days, people ask why we’re dancing on company time. And instead of t-shirts, we’re being asked to wow ‘em with an initiative that drives bottom-line growth.
And maybe it’s just me, but I swear that the number of turd-polishing exercises have diminished. Have we refocused? Are we making sure we’re not delivering turds in the first place?
People now hire me for my weird-ass mind. They embrace me looking at their business and putting it on paper in ways that they can’t.
I’m doing the best work of my career. It just would be nice to have a little more of it. The outside isn’t bleak and desolate, just a tad lean.
But whatever, the lights are on.
Here and there, they’ve been flickering. But they’re on.
Finances? Numbers are quantifiable. If I’m stressed because rent is due, that number offers a framework for that stress.
I used to stress that opportunity had passed me by because I was too terrified of leaping at the brass ring. That kind of stress is impossible to quantify.
Give me financial stress any day.
To The Great Recession, I’ll say I don’t like you one bit. Sorry, that wasn’t clear enough. I hate roughly 99.6% of you.
I hate your ability to bring out the worst in people.
I now know how threatening change and evolution are in people’s minds, simply because these concepts differ from the status quo. That broken, pathetic, miserable status quo.
You inspired people to devise new ways to knife each other in the back that should be recorded in the history books. Future generations could study these as testaments to humanity’s ugly and disgusting sides.
Even with all of the negativity you brought, I partially understand why you arrived and showed us some economic tough love.
I—and I can’t speak for anybody else—needed it.
As I step off my soapbox,
Anybody got any work?
Creative Direction, Copywriting, Brand Strategy, Naming—basically I help clients think of interesting ways to sell their stuff. My answer to the "Creative vs. Strategic" debate is replace the "vs." with an "and." When I do this, consumers are happy, the client is happy, and I'm happy. And I'm all about being happy. I'm Chris Maley. Contact me. Let's hang out and be happy.
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