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What it Takes to Win in Advertising, A-Z
by Amie Heasley
Action Change Order; otherwise known as ACO. The radioactive-green ACO snickers in the just-promoted graphic designer's dusty in-bin. Photo is "too lonely" the account executive says the client said. Replace with a more "social" shot.
Social, Thomas thinks. It's a brochure on geriatric depression. Somehow a snapshot of grinning, wrinkled faces ballroom dancing or playing shuffleboard or doing Yang-style Tai Chi doesn't quite fit. How about kickboxing or curling? He scribbles this question in the margin, then wads the ACO up and shoots trashcan hoops with it. He shoots and misses three times, and decides to leave the defeated ball on the too-thin layer of carpeting outside his door.
"Somebody's got a serious case of the Mondays," the new proofreader says, holding up the radioactive-green ball of paper and smiling with all of her teeth showing. Thomas doesn't say anything. He doesn't even look at the new proofreader. He starts searching for stock photos of old people embracing one another, their pleated khaki pants pulled up to their chests, their hair silvery and luminescent, their hopeful eyes milky with cataracts.
Buy three well-tailored, navy-blue suits, the book advises. Suzanne looks down at her scuffed loafers with shaggy tassels. Her skirt hem came undone on the way to work this morning and she refastened it with tape. Suzanne's convinced she's already failing 99 Things Every Thriving AE Should Know. She wonders if she's really account executive material. But she thought there wasn't a dress code. Misty, the receptionist, sometimes wears hot-pink flip-flops that snap-snap-snap down the hall. Her entire area in the front
lobby reeks of that body lotion shop in the mall. Warm vanilla sugar. Sun-ripened raspberry. Sweet Georgia peaches. Cucumber melon. Lemon-meringue pie. If she's wearing her flip-flops, Misty rubs these manufactured scents on her feet.
Creativity is for creative directors. Derrick, the creative director, believes that advice like this stifles creativity. He might tweak a headline or massage a layout, but that's not creativity. Except for one of his Best of Shows at the National Addys. The product: Airtight snowboarding pants. His line: Warning: May prevent snow down the crack. Even the judges had laughed, out loud.
Still, creativity belongs to Derrick's entire creative department. They stayed until three in the morning to finish those Trinity Health Cancer Center storyboards, even after Thomas almost cut his thumb off with an exacto knife. When Derrick came in before the presentation a few hours later, Thomas was drooling and snoring on one of the lobby couches; his faded t-shirt bloodstained.
"Don't ever, under any circumstance, get an erection over good work. But don't ever, under any circumstance, get an erection over bad work either." Stephen, the client services and new business director, talks like he's quoting from some sex-charged manifesto he keeps hidden behind his polished desk. He says, "You should really read Hey, Whipple, Squeeze This or Ogilvy on Advertising or How to Become an Advertising Man or Whatever Happened to Madison Avenue? Advertising in the '90s." You bet," Julian responds. "Right
after I'm done with Advertising, Alcohol Consumption and Mortality: An Empirical Investigation." You see, for Julian, this is just a copywriting job. He isn't looking for additional reading assignments.
When the sun in Michigan finally thaws his skin, Julian takes longer breaks outside the building. He pauses near the picnic table at least ten minutes, sucking on a cigarette, breathing parking lot exhaust between drags, waving to the Fed-Ex delivery guy. Then he goes back to his cubicle where the air is recycled and the fluorescent lighting makes everyone look like leftover meatloaf. He pours himself a huge cup of black coffee and sets
it down way too close to his keyboard. He shuts his eyes and lets his mouth hang open. On that blank screen, he dreams about typing award-winning copy about new Cancer Centers, new electric toothbrushes, new elbow surgical implants, new paint coatings, new fiber-optic break controls for recreational vehicles. He wills the curser to stop its incessant blink, blink, blinking. After he leaves work, he watches David Letterman sometimes.
He's relieved. Dave's shingles are cured, and Julian's going to write a screenplay.
"Estimates are always off," Maggie mumbles. ADvantage's projects always come in over budget. The agency always eats the extra cost. Maggie feels guilty about this extra cost, but she knows it isn't her fault. That's why they're called estimates, right? The dictionary reads: Estimate - 1. To form an approximate judgment or opinion regarding the worth, amount, size, weight, etc., of; calculate approximately.
But Kimberly, the head of accounting, threatens Maggie when ADvantage has to eat the extra cost. It doesn't matter that the client wanted the direct-mail piece printed on vellum at the last minute or the printer just had to use a special die-cut for the brochure or the art director forgot to tell Maggie that the stock photo for the two-page spread wasn't free of
royalty charges.
"Maggie, it's coming out of your check next time," Kimberly always says,
wringing her hands.
Freelancers are not to be hired without explicit permission from Derrick and Kimberly! Helen has been revising and updating the agency's employee handbook for at least three years, and she likes to use exclamation points for heightened emphasis. Upon approval, see Maggie, production manager, to receive an estimate that captures the freelancer's billing rate!
God is in Nathaniel's heart. Every day when he first sits down at his desk, Nathaniel says a quick prayer. He knows he's charged things he shouldn't have charged to his corporate credit card. He knows he's borrowed an extra five bucks from petty cash, without paying it back. He knows he's taken gum, cough drops, Kleenex, ballpoint pens, paper clips and single earrings out of his employee's desks late at night, when they're having dinner with their families behind radiant picture windows. But God will forgive Nathaniel. He
whispers, just barely moving his lips, "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall be as wool."
"Hello, ADvantage, this is Misty, how may I direct your call?"
You wouldn't believe how many times Misty says that in a single day. What's worse is that she's often the last to know when people who work at ADvantage get laid off and/or fired. How's she supposed to keep track of their extensions when they keep leaving? Every time the phone hisses out a ring, she flinches. Who's going to be on the other end? What if they want to talk to somebody who's gone forever and ever? Yesterday, she saw three employees walk down the hall single file toward the elevator, each carrying a box filled with stuff like photo frames, books, coffee mugs, outdated employee handbooks, manila folders, utensils, Pop Tarts, Doritos, alarm clocks, deodorant, tennis shoes and cigarette cartons. Later, Suzanne told Misty that she found someone's shredded business cards all over the parking lot.
Initial client feedback from conference call received April 17, 2003. Action by: Julian (copywriter). Client suggests following The Associated Press Stylebook guidelines in all copy. For example, use past tense for attribution on quotes, the client says. Do not use periods when writing MD or PhD or DE. Capitalize all words when there is one letter before a hyphen (e.g., X-ray). Julian owns an AP Stylebook, but it's from 1993 and he's only opened it once. He couldn't get past the dedication: In Memory of Frederick J. Murphy, 1945-1992, a lover of language, a disciple of rules.
Job jackets should be filed alphabetically by client and organized by project number in the beige cabinet outside Elaine's office. She tells people this from the first day they start, during orientation. They don't listen, and when they're looking for an ACO or product literature or client specifications, they come to the Elaine, the traffic manager, for answers.
"Where's the job jacket?" she asks them.
They shrug. They shuffle their feet. Sometimes they stammer out, "What's a job jacket?" or "Did you get a new haircut?" She looks in the beige filing cabinet and the job jacket is nowhere to be found. She sweeps the creative department. The job jacket, imprinted with the muddy soles of someone's shoes or speckled by fast food grease, is usually under one of the designer or copywriter's particleboard desks.
Know when to bullshit. This is Stephen's motto. In fact, Stephen typed this motto in Arial Rounded MT Bold, 48-point, and tacked it to the ceiling over his desk. He insists that everyone calls him Stephen instead of Steph. He reminds them to spell his name correctly, with a ph at the end, not a ve. When he leans back in his chair, about an hour after he eats his six-inch vegetarian submarine on whole wheat (hold the cheese and mayonnaise), and
just before he makes his first afternoon new business call, Stephen sees his motto staring back at him in total obedience. It is next to a smaller sign, typed in what appears to be Times New Roman, 24-point, that reads: The lost art of looking up.
Laser is due to client April 21, 2003. Ever since ADvantage fired its runner for calling in sick two times to see the latest Sandra Bullock movie, Misty has to make after-hour deliveries. She guesses she better tell her grandma she won't be stopping over for dinner and her homemade coconut-cream pie that day. She knows she'll have to drive the laser to the client. It doesn't matter if it's the one in Indianapolis, Indiana or Farmington Hills,
Michigan. Either way, it's going to spoil Misty's entire evening. Graphic designers and art directors never get anything done on time for Fed-Ex. But to them it doesn't matter. "Just get Misty to deliver it," they'll say. Misty is the nameless, faceless petite blonde at the front desk. She's the receptionist. She's the girl who makes deliveries, answers phone calls, orders boxed lunches, brews coffee and photocopies highlighted articles in AdWeek and Advertising Age. She's the girl who does whatever anybody tells her to do.
Managing partners are: Nathaniel Newberry (media director), Derrick Donaldson (creative director) and Stephen Smith (client services and new business director). Helen doesn't find it odd that all of the managing partners are men. She's not concerned about a glass ceiling, but she does think the alliteration is creepy. When she first hired Nathaniel as a media assistant, Derrick as an art director and Stephen as an account executive, she didn't even notice it. But whenever she sees them together now she can't get Sally sells seashells by the seashore out of her head.
Never let them see you sweat isn't half bad for a deodorant tagline. Although Kimberly has been diagnosed with problem perspiration and she doesn't understand how anyone could conceal an everyday bodily function. After reading ADvantage's past due bills, she goes home with sweat rings. The right armpit ring is larger and soggier. She has tried all kinds of deodorants and antiperspirants. She has told the managing partners that overhead needs to be cut. We need to lay some people off, Kimberly tells them. We need to cut back on perks like cell phones and PDAs and free vanilla lattes, she pleads. She suggests donating the agency's old computers and software to local churches.
"It's a tax-deductible donation," she says.
Nathaniel and Derrick fold their arms across their chests. Stephen says,
"Don't you worry, we'll have those media dollars by the end of the month."
Kimberly nods and feels the droplets making their pilgrimage, stealing past the folds in her shirt, fighting their way to her waistline.
Onerous is synonymous with Orson, Margaret Orson.
A typical voicemail from Margaret to Suzanne: "Hi Suzanne, it's Margaret Orson calling from the Healthy Living Guide. I have tried to reach you several times regarding the current ad and listing list for Trinity Health Care Network. We need to get the listing list from you, and of course, the original listing list changed about three times, so I deleted it after forwarding it to my designer to make the revisions. Therefore, I need to get the current listing list from you. Hopefully you can just forward the e-mail that Trinity sent me two weeks ago with the listing list attached, but if not, you'll have to go back to them and ask them to re-send the listing list to me as a Word attachment. Again this is Margaret Orson from the Healthy Living Guide. This message is regarding the Trinity Health Care Network listing list. I think you should have my phone number. I'm not sure if you have my e-mail, but you probably do. But just in case, it's margaretorson@healthylivingguide.com. That's all one word and lowercase. No initial cap on the m in Margaret."
Project manager/digital strategic liaison/copywriter. That's the title listed in ADvantage's latest help wanted ad. With the economy in the shitter, Nathaniel thinks they can find someone who's more than willing to multitask.
Quick exit from the building can be achieved by using the stairwells located at the north end of the fifth and six floors. Do not take the elevator in the event of fire! Do not give anyone your five-digit elevator access code! Do not give anyone your three-digit stairwell code! Do not copy your office keys! Helen worries that she's using too many exclamation marks in the new employee handbook. She doesn't want to seem too off-putting, so she decides to use them only where it seems to really matter. Do not leave for lunch without telling the receptionist when you'll be back. Do not park your car in the CEO's parking spot! Do not eat or drink near your computer! Do not take more than a single row of staples at a time from the supply cabinet behind the front desk. Do not use the fitness room on the lower level without signing a release form. Your spouses/significant others and children must also sign this form! If you have any questions, do not ask your supervisor. Please see Helen in human resources.
Right tri-fold panel: Client feels this area is too sparse—make product shot larger. Consider shifting other elements on the tri-fold panel overall for a more balanced distribution, the ACO reads. Thomas resists the urge to light the ACO on fire. Instead, he places it at the bottom of his in-bin, underneath several other radioactive-green ACOs and the latest issues of Communication Arts and Shoot.
He pulls out the job jacket for their local library's annual spell-off. This is a pro bono project; its deadline is TBD. He tries to think of words that people don't normally know how to spell. He can only think of supercalifragalistic expealodotious. He dials Julian's extension and asks him.
"Obsequious!" Julian yells. "Apoplectic!" "Licentious!" "Sophomoric!"
Thomas hangs up after sophomoric.
Salaried is synonymous with slave labor, even if you're managing partner. Nathaniel says he works an average of sixty hours a week. He doesn't think that advertising is brain surgery. For him, it isn't life affirming or spiritual. But for some reason, he can't seem to go home to his wife and four boys at night. Nathaniel remembers a bible verse he read. In a hotel somewhere near Nashville, he screamed like a TV evangelist, "Who Himself bore our sins in His own body on the tree, that we, having died to sins, might live to righteousness—by whose stripes you were healed!"
His lover at the time, wearing nothing but a pink cowboy hat, kissed him and said, "Sweetheart, your job's nothing like Christ's job."
"Television spots are the absolute core of our business," Derrick announces during a morning staff meeting. He circles the room, making eye contact with each and every employee, holding certain people's gazes two or three seconds too long. "ADvantage is not a collateral shop. Sure, we churn a lot of collateral here, but broadcast work is our core. Whenever I show our reel to potential clients, they lose their poker faces. I'm telling you people that's because we're known for our creative prowess. This key distinction is most evident in our broadcast work. ADvantage is about cutting through the clutter. It's like Jack Daniels once said, 'Every day we make it. We make it the best that we can.'"
Unite with your brand is number forty-seven of 99 Things Every Thriving AE Should Know. Suzanne will not join her client's brand in holy matrimony. Her flesh and its flesh will not become one. One of the accounts she works on is MilkPax, a company that manufactures milk carton packaging for the dairy industry. She's lactose intolerant, so she can't even begin to relate to milk or its packaging challenges. She tries memorizing the boilerplate on their press releases. It reads something like: MilkPax is an international
leader for supplying dairy packaging solutions. In 2002, MilkPax employed more than five thousand staff members excluding joint ventures, with total sales topping seven billion dollars. MilkPax has attained sixty-five percent of the gable top market in Europe, Australia and New Zealand.
Value is something Maggie always tries to give ADvantage's clients. If she can have envelopes or letterhead printed on a smaller press with high-speed printing capabilities and precision register color versus a large-format press, she'll do it. This decision always guarantees reduction in cost. Plus, smaller presses use a negative-processed, metal printing plate. So quality is always achieved. If Maggie can save ADvantage money, she always
makes it a point to tell Kimberly about it, even if it means interrupting her lunch break. Even if it means following Kimberly into the bathroom and blurting it out from behind the stall next to her.
What's in it for me?
Every AE at ADvantage has to craft what's called a single sentence to answer this integral creative question. Without an answer, creative execution fails. Stephen guarantees it. If he can't figure it out during business hours, he grabs a diet soda and pours rum into the can after work when nobody's around but the red-eyed janitor who somehow knows his wife's
name. Within about six gulps, he scratches out a single sentence with a chewed pencil on a sticky note. Then he sticks it to his computer monitor and goes home. The next day, he arrives at noon, carrying his six-inch vegetarian submarine in a plastic bag, smelling of cheap aftershave, telling no one in particular that, "it's a glorious day out there."
"Xenophobic!" Julian screams into Thomas' receiver and hangs up.
Yellow is the color the sweat stains turn on Kimberly's white blouses. When she's doing the laundry in the mornings before work, she tosses her white blouses in a heap next to the washer. Clorox doesn't seem to touch the stains, but she scrubs the armpits until the bleach stings her cuticles. Outside, the sky is pale with golden hues. For a brief moment, it seems
unspoiled from traffic fumes or passing airplanes.
Zygotes are commonplace at ADvantage. Elaine is convinced that pregnancy there is accomplished by drinking from the water cooler. Helen just gave birth to her first child, a daughter she named June so she could call her bug as a nickname. Maggie is due with a boy in three months. Misty just found out yesterday that's she's expecting. Her husband of three months doesn't know yet. Elaine has no plans of following this breeding trend.
"Are you planning on having kids?" she's often asked.
"Were you planning on working out after your pregnancy?" she replies.
Then she goes back to searching for missing job jackets. When it comes to victory, Elaine has discovered that no particleboard desk should be left unturned. In fact, today she found the zoo outdoor jacket (BCZ456) in the men's room on the floor next to a urinal. The jacket was in front of a copy of 99 Things Every Thriving AE Should Know, leaning against the bathroom wall, as if it somehow knew she'd find it waiting there. |
