I love the feel of management. I love the smell of management (like Adidas Victory deodorant). I love the sensation of management. I love the way management sounds. I love the way management looks.
I fucking love management.
Today witnessed a spectacular management breakfast (egg, bacon, sausage, fried beans, tomato, bacon, egg, black pudding, egg, fried bread, fried toast, doner meat, curry sauce, baguette, roast potatoes, egg, sausage, bacon and egg) at which Big Alan Cockson, so cruelly vilified on this blog following his guest post, delivered an EPIC financial forecast that went from the price of a paperclip, detoured through Keynesian economic theory, swerved through the Illuminati conspiracies and ended with our fiduciary outlook for 2010/11.
'A bit shit', he said.
After an hour, during which time I delegated Mandy Fookes legless, we reconvened for the Friday management lunch at the Dog & Hog carvery (lamb, duck, beef, pheasant, seagull, pigeon, lark, pork, kangaroo, chicken) at which I delivered a triumphant marketing update, including my newfound insight into social media, my amazing ideas on mobile marketing and my very latest stroke of genius: posinomics.
I'll repeat that: posinomics.
I haven't got time to go into it here but, essentially, it's marketing through sheer positive thinking. I know - fucking incredible. I read about it in an American magazine one of the Delilaz girls left lying around. The essence of it is this: you spend all your marketing budget on trained 'positisors' who think your brand into the minds of consumers. (I'll explain it all in another genius post.)
Anyway, I let them have this lot with both barrels and seriously - nothing but wide-open mouths. Just silence. Simple, pure silence. And the odd furrowed brow. And the word 'Eh?' a lot. And shaking heads. And rolling of eyes. And that sort of thing. But mainly silence.
So, I feel it was a breakthrough moment. I think the board now see me in a very, very different light. However they saw me before, they now see me very differently. That is certain.
From then on, it was just management, management, management. Pure, unhindered fucking management. Strategising, prioritising, shaping visions, defining long-term goals, striving for year-on-year growth, maximising potential, fucking management.
By the end of it, we emerged from the Dog & Hog red-faced, ties loosened, shirts glistening with the effluvia of top-level executive exertion. Actually, it was fucking moving. It's days like these I'm reminded why I'm able to do virtually everybody else's job better than them: because I'm fucking management.
I'll be managing again come Monday. Managing hard, managing fast, managing like there's no fucking tomorrow. It will be magnificent - and my agency will watch and learn.
Why? Because I AM THE CLIENT!