Jan 5, 2008

A fridge in the office.

There is a weird thing that happens when I tell people I want to retire from advertising, and soon. Since I'm 35 years old, people always give me a "are you kidding me" look, followed by the usual "but you are so young". I stand there, smiling back and I retort the usual: I don't want to end up with a Fridge in the office.

A couple of years ago I worked at one of the biggest ad agencies where I live. At first, I was glad. I thought... I made it. I am in a huge big ass company and damn it, I'm good enough to work here. Huge clients, huge campaigns... A year goes by and my life changes for the worst. I have no life. I hate what I do. I start dreading waking up in the morning and going there. So one day I have to go chat with one AE.

It's late. I walk in, thinking... this is going to be fast, since it's almost 8pm and this guy has to go home and go eat or something. I say this to the dude. He says oh, no problem, I got my food here at my fridge. What? The? Fuuuuck? I look around. I can't see it at first, but then... voilá. The mini fridge. Loaded with bullshit vegetarian refrigerated food, juice and other not sane stuff.

I stand there, wondering. This guy is almost 50 years old. He has it all down. He doesn't need to go home, ever. He has all that he needs here TO KEEP WORKING. Forget about having a life outside the office. He starts giving me the brief for what seems to be the start, at that fucking hour, of us beginning to work a campaign. I am in hell, I think.

I start looking around, not giving a rat's ass about the brief, since we all know it is crap and has no logic whatsoever. Let him blab while I look. A couple of photos of a family he doesn't see. A couple of photographs of places he hasn't returned to in at least two years, and I know because this fucker comes in even sick to work. (Yeah, sure, I want your Ebola, since I don't have plans for this weekend, so throwing up blood seems like a good plan!) Clothes. I am not kidding. Clothes, for those moments when a client calls and he has to go dressed a little more decently.

That was all I needed. That meeting. That realization. I DONT WANT TO END UP LIKE THAT. No motherfucking way, mein friends. I preferred to open up my little studio and sweat it out, making a bet, if you will, with my career, my money and my life, that I would never have to have food at my office and not have to go home.

You know what? Now, I close up early, if I want to. I work my ass off, don't get me wrong, but I do stop to have a life, to go home when I want to or just when I need to. And I do have a fridge in my office. It's filled with only one thing that I would need, rush, and if I ever needed it I wouldn't have to go home: BEER.

Thank you, oh you no life AE. Thank you from the bottom of my fridge.


Jane Sample said...

That is hilarious! But I have to say .. isn't a 50 yrs old AE a bit sad? He must have the saying "first one in and last one out" tattoed on his ass.

Great blog!

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