Vine Swinging

Busy couple of days in the Ad Jungle.

Had a shoot for one client, yesterday, where we had to make do with some of the worst hero cups I’ve seen in a while. We developed an alternate plan (read: tons of retouching) and had it locked and loaded before the client arrived. Everything ended happy-happy-joy-joy, including the client’s signature on the cost-plus for the additional retouching work.

We started the day today with a radio production (a market test for focus (fuck-us) groups) for a different client using non-professional, agency talent. Everything was happy-happy-joy-joy there, too, until the client decided he wanted to play the radio for the person responsible for conducting the research who, from her… unique… perspective, chimed in with all manner of creative input, none of which is easily accomplished using voice talent that’s normally found screaming across the creative pit at other ad monkeys. Through some clever re-pitching (audio pitch, not account pitching) we managed to put a high-gloss shine on what was an otherwise wash-and-wear assignment.

We’re also in the middle of agency (employee) reviews. A lot can be said for being a part of the largest advertising network in the world; mandated scientific formulas for determining your team’s worth isn’t one of them.

Which leads me to Creative Director-ness.

A couple of weeks ago, Joker, over at “Why Advertising Sucks” wrote up a spleen-filled rant regarding what it takes to be a boss.

I can’t say I agree with any of it, but it led me to think about what I do at this level.

Aside from the obvious– dreaming up, writing and producing creative– you (Joker and the more generic sense of “you”) will find that ever-expanding piles of shit come with the ever-expanding square footage of your office space.

Yeah, the small degree of autonomy you gain is nice but it’s counter-balanced by some very real-world responsibilities, some of which are acid churning, follicle-freeing pains in the ass.

Outside of the pure creative realm, team building is the easy part (or at least it always has been for me; I know others may struggle here). I’ve always had a little more fun in life and at work than I really should have, so keeping the people on my team loose and happy has never been a problem. I’ve also got a few big trophies under my belt and work on some fairly high-profile accounts, so recruiting talented people whose chemistry works with the various teams I’ve had hasn’t been a big deal, either.

So you’ve built a strong, happy team who trusts you and works their ass off for you.

Now, say you have client cutbacks and you’re facing a team shortfall of, oh, a million bucks. Who are you going to cut? At the million-dollar level, we’re not just talking one person. (This is all a current-events hypothetical, mind you.)

What happens when, on that million-dollar shoot, it begins raining and immediately puts you $125,000 over budget before you’ve even unpacked in your hotel room? Sure, you can’t blame the weather on anyone– or at least you shouldn’t– but you can bet your ass someone does, and as the person riding the tallest horse and the person representing the agency at the shoot, I’m the one that gets shot at first (deserved or not).

Then there are the simple balls-on-the-line moments like the photo shoot I mentioned earlier in the post. At some point, early on, we had to go with a plan to get the film shot to a set of standards (mine first– hey, I’m there– then the clients’, then the agency’s). With no client present, you have to make the call to go in a safe, already-signed-off-on, inexpensive (or at least budgeted) direction or one that’s going to cost someone a bucket of cash. I went with the bucket of cash approach, but what would have happened if the client pitched a fit after learning of the course-correction once they arrived on-set?

And there’s no time to sit down and ponder the possibilities or to convene a meeting of the minds. On-set the buck stops here and it’s my mortgage payment and baby formula bill that’s on the line. And, more often than not, it means being on the hook for a few hundred thousand dollars north of a bar tab.

In short, I get paid for what I can do creatively/tactically, what left-brain strategy I can bring to the table and for my experience in making snap judgments in fairly expensive cost vs. benefit situations. And those things add up to the other thing I get paid for: building a trusting relationship with my team, agency and clients that allows us the freedom to continually push the envelope and do better work.

I don’t hold meetings, I don’t dream up team-building exercises and, while I have a secretary, she’s efficient, married and wasn’t hired because she’s hot (and I share her, platonically, with other CDs here at the agency). I do a shit-load of texting– on my phone, not a Blackberry– have a wall full of trophies (they’re mine, thank you) and do own two cars mean-ass, get-out-of-my-way-you-weenie-Nun trucks. (So Joker was at least right, there.)

I’ve also mastered the art of bullshit, but my form of the art, when used well, leads to an ability to look a CMO in the eye and tell him, straight up and in a room filled with his employed marketing wonks, that the line he just dreamed up on his own means “to suck dick” in today’s teen usage (true story).

I worked long and hard to get to where I am (and, honestly, I also managed a few lucky strokes along the way, too). Did I think it was going to be like this and do I wish I were in a position that didn’t make me sometimes shit blood?

Yeah that would be nice, but then I’d have to wonder what kind of a boss I would have.

1 commentEmail Article Thursday, May 11th, 2006 at 03:41pm Mack Simpson

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