Monday, 30 November 2009

Oooh, the creatives are all upset, boo-fucking-hoo.

First meeting today to discuss the Cleanavia launch campaign which, as you may know, I've already come up with. (And, frankly, it's mind-blowing.)

It came to me as a dove came to Jesus and told him to consider the lilies. It came to me as an apple fell onto Darwin's head, as the helicopter came to James Dyson and as the hamburger came to Ronald fucking McDonald.

Now, you would have thought, would you not, that if you worked at an agency that had just won a new client and that this new client had gone to the great trouble of devising a genius ad campaign for you SO YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO, that you would be pleased. Grateful, even. Maybe - I don't mind saying it - in awe.

Well, you obviously don't work in the creative department of my new agency. (And if you do, up your fadge-funnel with a sideways pole.)

Here's what happened.

I arrived at about noon, all prepared for my 10.30 meeting. Raring to go, I was. I said to the receptionist with the muchas bristolas 'Good morning, petal! Are you a spanner, because every time I look at you my nuts tighten!' (A compliment can never do you any harm, I always say.) I was in a great mood!

However, the minute I walked into the a room called 'The Left Bank', that joie de bon viveur had gone, like an erection when Crimewatch comes on.

Gathered before me were the creative cream of the place, all wearing faces like Myra Hindley's nastier sister. 'Cheer up!' I said. 'I might never happen!'

'It nearly didn't,' someone muttered.

Oh, right. I'm a bit late. Very fucking funny.

Look. Sometimes, in the world of marketing, breakfast meetings at the Dog & Hog drag on. Sometimes, bacon is inexplicably 'off' and bacon has to be bought in from a butchers in Kent because some customers have very discerning tastes. That's life at the cutting edge. Live it or lose it.

So, I go through the intimate details of the campaign. What the TV spot should look like, what the posters should look like, what the press ads should look like - all the way down to the leaflet that comes in the box with your consumer durable. All there, done - and brilliant. All these fuckers have to do is...do it. Twiddle those knobs, push those computer buttons, make ads appear. Are they happy? Are they shite.

'We had some other ideas about how we can take your brand forward,' one of them said.

'Well, I'll be happy to talk about that,' I countered. 'But right now I'd like to flog some fucking Cleanavia 1100s. So let's crack on, get this done and we can talk about...whatever you said when the campaign's over.'

'Would you like to see some of our ideas?' another one chirped.

'Er...not right now,' I said. 'I'll tell you why: a) I'm absolutely desperate for a shit, and b) I've got a really important meeting with the girls I've cast for the campaign. Next time, though!'

It was the truth! I was desperate for a shit and I was going to Delilaz. (The girls didn't strictly know there was a meeting happening, but...well, is that important?)

The upshot is that I want to deal with account directors and execs from now on. I thought speaking to the creatives would be a good short-cut but, frankly, I didn't like it. They obviously didn't 'get' me because they didn't laugh at my jokes like account people do and they didn't just say 'yes' like account people.

Well, never mind. I asked for all the work to be done by Thursday (MORE fucking groans - what's with these people?) so we'll see how it goes.

My guess is: brilliantly!

Why? Because I AM THE CLIENT!

1 comment:

  1. Don't bother talking with those overpayed asses! They envy you and won't ever admit that you have better ideas than them.

    BTW, thanks for your reply in the other post!

    ReplyDelete