Friday, 27 January 2012
Terrifying news, my fellow marketing professionals.
A new agency has been founded (called Founded) and it's staff consists of 60% planners.
Let those words sink into your brain.
THEN GET THEM OUT OF YOUR BRAIN BEFORE THOSE WORDS TURN YOUR BRAIN INTO SHIT SOUP!
Why this is something Founded would like to advertise to clients is beyond me. But what do I know?
(I know fucking everything - EVERYTHING - in case you were wondering if that question was rhetorical or not. IT WAS.)
Let me give you the client perspective on planners. It goes something like this:
Ooohh, shiiit. It's that brainy fucker. Laurence? Fellopia? Jurgen? Owl? The fucker with all the SLIDES. The ENDLESS slides - shit, no, not NOW! I've got about a million emails to forward to my PA. Right - what can I do? Fuck. Er...clashed meeting? No - they just send you all the slides on Vimeo and expect you to watch it. Funeral? No - they come with you and tweet your grief. Er...walk out with an air of imperious preoccupation? No - they're waiting at your office when you get back there. They're like ZOMBIES. Fuck, there's only one way out of this: PUKE.
That's my approach, anyway. When a planner starts talking, I start puking. It's become an almost unconscious reaction. I don't have to force it that much. Habit gets things going, and I just give it the extra bwaaawk at the right moment. Everyone stands back, pretends to be sympathetic and you're out of there before you can say 'How much to dry clean this suit?'.
What the fuck do you WANT me to do? Listen to it? ARE YOU FUCKING MENTAL? That's how they turn you into a planner; they get you to listen to it. Once you start actually listening to it, there comes a point where you go, 'Ooh - I think I see what they mean about post-mobile box-setists versus sofa-hugging Wagamamites!'
That's the point when you start writing haiku. And that's the point you become a different species. Do you understand? You no longer belong to the human race. You become some kind of bullshit-based lifeform that would have Darwin scratching his fucking noggin, saying, 'Well, fist me into next week, I've obviously fucked something up here.'
But, look - this is just my opinion. I wish Founded the very best of luck. They're probably all top-notch chaps who know that the secret to true client satisfaction is BUY THE BEERZ. I'm just giving you my opinion, even though you didn't ask for it.
Why? Because I AM THE CLIENT!