New Creative Director Branded

Prosecco

“You met the new Creative Director yet?”

“Yesterday… she introduced herself in the foyer; then she had an informal meet and greet over some Prosecco with the team on our floor… you?”

“Yeh… saw her in the lift… had a quick chat…”

“What d’ya think?”

“She’s got a great reputation, a shed load of awards; had a fast track to the board if she wanted it but can’t live without the day-to-day creative according to Don…”

Re – spect…”

“Full of energy and new ideas I heard….”

“A breath of fresh air…”

“Also word is she can be blunt; to the point… doesn’t fanny around – and has a distinct lack of pretension…”

“Hmmm; got the impression she’s not taking any prisoners…”

“Me too; mind you… fairplay; she must have a huge salary to justify if the board managed to prise her away from TDMP.”

“She’s what this place needs.”

Abso-lutely… we’ve lost far too many accounts since Jonno left…”

So short-sighted letting him go… it needs a total shake up of presentation protocols for the client marketing team to begin with…”

“And as for the design side…”

“A mess!”

“And that’s being polite…”

“Did she mention what her plans were for creative?”

“She sort of hinted…”

Sort of?”

“She called me into her office and told me it wasn’t good enough…”

What?! Hers is easily the biggest on that floor and it’s got that great view over the square…”

“Not the office! Our overall creative response and processes – from client brief to deliverables to our lacklustre – her words – integration…”

What?!”

“Yeh… I know… everything… digital… content strategy… ATL… BTL… ‘BLT’ she called it –‘creative with no real meat; produced by a bunch of grey-boiled vegetables’…”

“Huh?!”

“… ‘A bland sandwich of unrelated concepts from ageing show ponies with as much bite as Ed Miliband…’ ”

“Christ almighty! Doesn’t she understand our USP?!”

Apparently not…”

“She told Julian she wants – ‘Inspiration not constipation…’ ”

No shit…”

Hmmm…”

“You did…”

“Of course I did… you know how we sweated blood and something much stronger than ruddy Prosecco on brainstorming that over several nights!”

“So you told her?”

“All of it – right between the eyes… Listen lady, I said – this is the agency distinguished by an open window on the world philosophy; a digital synergy of dialogue, storytellevating™ © and creative engineering…”

“She didn’t get it?!”

“Just bloody laughed..”

“What a bitch!”

“Bunny boiler!”

“Chocolate box creative…”

“Over promoted harpy…”

“What did she get awards for?!”

“Probably slept her way to the top…”

“Bottom line drone…”

“TDMP have been going down for years… and so has she by the look of it…”

“A creative dunghill…”

“Cheap tart!”

“I ask you… Prosecco!”

Three Reasons You Should Leave A Copywriting Job

I resign

 You know it’s time to leave a copywriting job when….

ONE: You still keep banging your head on a creative brick wall but you don’t bleed anymore

TWO: You find you almost don’t care about speling

THREE: Your boss starts addressing you as MR or MS Wordsmith

A) It’s patronising…

B) It means you’re marginalised and your creativity is safely under control…

C) You’re almost irrelevant; a sideshow even…

D) You’re an indulgence…

E) You’re not really necessary but we tolerate having you around…

F) Ooh… what a quaint little skill that is in our big hard-nosed sales environment…

G) This is the real world – You fill the space, OK?

The Creative Dictator

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“Hmmm, yes, absolutely… here at Mediaocre Associates we operate a holistic approach.  We’re all recognised as creatives you know.  All got our part to play…  Everybody buys into the core ethos of what we describe as – creative enablement.   Everyone from the ground up is a crucial part of the process… even the interns have a fundamental role… Read more.

Ghost in the Machine

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Analogy of the day: Freelance writers are like porn stars – there’s always someone prepared to do more, go further and make more noise about it; for less money than you. While staring at a blank screen…  I wonder if Eureka! moments are the same?  Or do you have to wait for them to warm up… Read more.

Hobnobbin-With The Rebels And Chocolate Hobnobs…

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Scene Four… To have any chance of producing my best work – Ok, my aim was to face facts so make that any work – I crave my own little piece of that big creative environment out there: some shiny corner for a shiny suit that I can contaminate with a tiny trace of my… Read more.

The Heart Of Darkness And Hot Desks…

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Scene Three… The reviews are in and they’re mixed.  Alright, alright; I failed miserably to inject any tension…  I admit it, there’s precious little blogarhythm.  I’ve given it the best I’ve got: writer’s block, imaginary Polish builders; a pizza that refuses to go honourably and a shiny suit – weddings and funerals only – that… Read more.

Sofa; So Bad…

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Scene Two…   “Cztery Kubki?  What’s that?  You want Tea?   Ah; Kubek is Polish for cup…  Sure it’s not an English mug?” It comes to something when even your imaginary friends start to get pushy… Instead of gazing out the window onto mean streets – where a recessionary wind blows cold and the Transits gather at… Read more.

Of Grand Designs And Crystal Balls…

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Scene One… I have a symbiotic relationship with white van men.  As soon as I leave an institution: school, art college, university; or an employer – be they big or small, agency or creative department – the builders move in.  Brick dust, stewed teabags, Polish small talk and eventually the latest sciatica-inducing exercise in angularity from Ikea… Read more.