To say I was a little unimpressed is like saying Big Brian Humpage is a little bit flatulent. He's our Sales Director and he once farted so hard he blew someone's wig off.
Agency 2 weren't like the agencies I know. There was no account director with a nice suit and a healthy tan. No mucky-looking account exec with DD cups balanced on 18-inch heels. No creative with a funny haircut and statement trousers.
This bunch all looked the same. I couldn't tell who did what. I like to know who does what by looking at them. Otherwise...how do you know who does what?
Anyway, that wasn't even a tenth of the problem.
We had the chemistry meeting, get this, in their fucking offices. Can you believe that? In. Their. Fucking. Offices. What kind of shitcake-baking cuntpile has a chemistry meeting in their own fucking offices?
And if the fact that we were in some red-walled 'space' in Soho with big windows and confusing furniture weren't bad enough, I could see perfectly clearly a very agreeable restaurant RIGHT OVER THE ROAD!
So not only had they chosen to have a chemistry meeting in their own fucking office, but they'd chosen it knowing that a 20-second walk from their big, wanky glass front doors IS A PLACE WHERE CHEMISTRY MEETINGS ARE MEANT TO FUCKING HAPPEN!
'Never mind, Dave', I thought, 'They'll break out the champers in a minute and everything will get back on track.'
Not a fucking bit of it.
Water. Green tea. Bran muffins. Smoothies. I don't think I've ever been so insulted. And I've been fucking insulted.
The next 3 hours were spent talking about many, many things. All they seemed interested in doing was telling me how I could sell more consumer durables. I know how to sell more consumer durables! You just change the number on the monthly sales figures and, bingo bango, you've sold more consumer durables! I was only there to get wankered and, if I'm blunt, see if I could bend one through one of the...well, anything. IN OTHER WORDS, I WAS THERE FOR A COCKING CHEMISTRY MEETING!
So, my scores. You won't be surprised.
Bristolas: 5 (Credit where it's due - one of the...well, who knows what she was...had a pretty decent pair. She should change agency.)
Bloody Good Blokes: 0 (I couldn't identify one golfer in the whole place.)
Bollocks: 367,987 (That's the number of times they used a word I didn't understand - remember, you want to score low in this category.)
Not a good score. Not a good day. Not a good omen if the rest are like that. Still, I managed to make my excuses and leg it to Delilaz where, like a man lost in the desert who finds the oasis, I dived right in and got myself soaking wet!
Why? Because I AM THE CLIENT!