Drop dead, Diva

Divas are an advertising reality and a sad one to boot. I know artists, writers and musicians who are proud of their work and are endlessly more humble than some cock sniffing copywriter or dickwad artist that somehow think the ground they tread should be worshipped. The fact remains, I’ve never gotten divas of any sort, though much less so advertising ones.

Feeling proud of a painting, a picture, a song, a story or a sculpture has a hell of a lot more relevance than being petulant over some hand lotion advertisement. The fact is that there are some people that need to look down upon others to feel as if they have some sort of self worth. Again, this is sad, though it happens in various scenarios.

The thing is that in advertising, you’re often selling something through communication or at least you’re trying to do your best. Sure, you want to build a brand identity and engage the audience and gain relevance… still, you’re selling something, which is an argument you can make for most artforms… I get it. Authors sell books. Artists sell paintings. Your work matters, you matter... so you are a corporate artiste then.

Happy?

I hope so, because guess what, that still doesn’t give you the right to look down on anyone, be they from the same department or heaven forbid, one of the minions from other departments who should truly worship the ground you walk on. That’s the thing, divas have this need to be worshipped, to have their ass kissed and hunger continuous praise.

That’s cute… and also a little sad. Ok a lot sad. Because it means you don’t believe in your work and need others to validate your self-worth. It means that deep down, you know that even if you’re talented, part of you is still a hack because you get paid twice a month and have a dayjob. Sure, you get to wear t-shirts, flip-flops, don’t shave and smell like what the Big Lebowsky looks like he smells, but still, you’re a lamb… you’re a corporate peon… and it scares you shitless that you’ll look back and only have a portfolio as your testament in life.

So keep up the act, because some people may be fooled, others might buy in and kiss your ass, but in the end it won’t matter, because you know you’re just like the rest of us.

Sweet dreams.