No, I'm not scratching my balls.

I'd like to start off by saying that, at least for me, it's really impossible to do that. To be able to scratch my balls, I would need testicles. And no, I'm not a tranny, I'm a chick. A dudette that works in advertising, has a few accounts and decides how to divide her time and her jobs. So for fuck's sake, oh dear Client X, give me at least some respect and don't call me up like I am dog, waiting for you to call my next trick.

Inspired by a very cool Dustin Hoffman character: I'm working here! I'M WORKING HERE!

Do they storm in their doctor's office and demand that they get treated right away if it's not a real emergency? No, right? Hey, you! You're not bleeding through your anus, so it's ok if you can wait a couple of minutes - or day I say hours - for a decent time with him. So why would you call me up, at 8pm and give me grief about some posters that YOU WILL NOT send to the printers any day soon?

I find it so extremely disturbing that there are some clients out there who think they are the only reason the sun and moon exist. Instead of being decent and allowing us to work - on their projects and on others, they just want their shit now. Not soon, now. And when you make a mistake, or you fuck up a design, instead of acknowledging that they gave you so little time to do your job, they just give you more grief.

I would really love it if this shit happens on other more "respected" careers, really! Do you hurry up a lawyer, more so if it means that you would live the rest of your days behind bars and getting your salad tossed by a man named Big Todd? No, dammit! You pray that he studies your case, you wish and call up all the gods so that he or she has a moment of brilliance that can get you called that magic word called innocent. So why can't we decide how many days a job needs to be worked over?

I'd LOVE it if people could see how much hours it takes to do a decent ad, the DAYS it takes to make a presentation, the extremely long hours you have to endure beside a computer, or just doodling in a white paper until you get that big idea. This job is fucking hard! You think and you think some more! And you have a deadline - which of course, you cannot change ever. So add stress to the mix, and you just watch that idea get farther and farther away from you.

And right when you get your groove, when you start to feel the ideas popping in your brain, a douche calls you up and starts being a total asshole for something that you know does not deserve this much attention.

These are the days that I really want to quit. The day when I really wonder if someday I will crack, lose it completely and call every single person who pisses me off and call them on their bullshit. I used to wonder how it would be if I did it to my last creative director. I pictured it in my mind, me going in the office and start screaming at the top of my lungs...

Look. If you are a client of some agency and you are reading this (and yeah, there is a God, sure), you HAVE to know that by being a total dickwad, YOU are shitting on your own advertising. By being respectful, by being cool to your creatives down at your agency, you get rewarded of getting a lot of people who really want to work on your account. Do you know that the cool accounts, at many ad agencies, are being fought over in the creative departments? The cool clients with cool attitudes are the treasure that a really good creative will backstab to get. And the assholes, the rush-lovers, the buttmunchers who give idiotic deadlines and moronic changes - those are the accounts that keep getting passed around, from poor soul to the other.

Now. What type of client do you want to be?

Dammit.

Me.

It lived in the microwave oven

The lunchroom is empty… or so it appears to be. Little clicks and hisses stir within during the middle of the day. There is a presence, a sentient being quietly hidden in some tucked away corner of the company, lingering, waiting patiently in its little cave to surprise an unsuspecting victim. I of course am talking about the collective culinary residue of an entire workforce; a gunk which has been consistently bombarded with micro waves for the better part of a quarter of a year.

It’s the microwave and whatever the hell is living within it.



If you’ve worked at a few agencies, there is at least one vivid memory of that time you opened the microwave oven door and almost passed out from the combined assault of a putrid stench and a visual to do it justice. You jumped back, pressing yourself against the wall, began to cough uncontrollably and snorted enough hand sanitizer to guarantee that whatever tried to make itself up your nose to eat at your brain was killed… you also saw how the next person didn’t care, popped their lunch in the oven, pressed a minute-thirty into the keypad, and proceeded to eat their funk spore infused meal.

Hygiene seems to be amoral in many ad kitchens. From the clogged sinks to those crack house sponges, being clean seems to almost be a sin sometimes. It’s as if being creative entitles you to be a fucking pig. And no, it’s not just creatives since pretty much anyone can be a closet pig, but it’s alarming to see the rate of people who can’t lift a finger just to have things be a little cleaner. I’m not talking about spic and span clean, I’m talking about minimum requirement to not be shut down by a health inspector clean.

Seriously, I don’t need to open an oven just to see what the residues of what looks like a demonic cumshot, or troll pimple splatter in the interior of where I’m supposed to heat my food. So kindly, clean the fuck up.

Cheers