The Douchebags with No Names

Last week my long gig at RP& came to a conclusion.

As long gigs go, it was one of the best. In the 10 months I was there, I helped launch the new RDX with several national TV spots and a host of digital banners. A new batch of smart dealer spots. A dozen radio commercials. And a direct mail campaign that turned out surprisingly well.

Long gigs are great. Not because I get to produce a lot of work (that is rare) but because they are long. Meaning I don't have to smile and dial.

And my wife will attest, I'm terrible on the phone.

A few years ago I was hired by DIRECTV to be their interim Creative Director. I had no idea what I was signing on for but I soon discovered the somewhat limited possibilities for creative expression. They simply wanted me to oversee the production of their retail newspaper and POS material. It was no brainer kind of work involving Google stock images, bad punny headlines and lots and lots of volume.

But since I had long since mothballed my ego and they were paying a full day rate and I was given an office with a closing door, I was more than happy to oblige them for 5 months. I would have ridden that gravy train longer but the brass had an epiphany and decided to move all the in-house marketing work to NY.

They even hired a team of hotshot (in their minds, no one else's) Creative Directors to spearhead the move to the Big Apple. I was asked to help transition them and give them the layout of the land. But these two boneheads wanted none of that.

In the very first meeting, before the warmth of the first introductory handshake had dissipated, these clowns were ripping on the "work" I had done in the past few months and started pontificating about how they were going to make it better. This was followed by the obligatory name dropping of big agencies where they had worked and the casual mentioning of awards they had won, including if I recall, a couple of Tellies for a mattress store in Brooklyn.

We were all so impressed. Mostly by their lack of decorum. At one point the woman who had hired them looked at me and rolled her eyes in disbelief as if to say, "I have to pay $3000 a month to live in a 500 square foot studio apartment in Chelsea and work with these two ass-bags. Help me."

I, somewhat uncharacteristically, shut my mouth and let the wunderkind foam at the mouth.

I won't mention their names because doing so would be small and vindictive. And right now because my daughter just got accepted into next year's AP Chemistry class, I'm feeling proud and magnanimous.

But I will tell you this. I got 5 months of a full day rate for that gig. They flew back to NY and 'got quit' from their newly minted Executive Creative Director position after 8 short weeks.

And last week I ran across one of those newspaper ads.
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