Wednesday, August 8, 2018

...And you are...


As I have detailed on many occasion, I'm a big fan of working remotely.

At my house, we have an open office plan, but I'm the only one in the office.

At my house, there's no Long Table of Mediocrity™.

At my house, I have the coffee I like, the toilet paper I like, and the yellow peaches I like, not those shitty white ones which frankly are an abomination and unfit for human consumption.

Most importantly, at my house, which doubles as my work environment, there are always new ways to create tax deductible expenses, despite Precedent Shitgibbon's imbecilic new tax code.

Last week and for the first time in a long time, I was summoned to come in to a big ad agency, a big ad agency where I have done a ton of work. This is unusual for several reasons, but mostly because the work I'm doing these days is largely direct-to-small underfunded clients, small agencies, and even clients outside the purvey of advertising.

The time away from a big agency had a surprisingly refreshing effect. I actually missed the place. I missed the energy. The zeal. And the manufactured sense of everybody working for a common goal. Perhaps I was taken in by all that youth.

But I must admit it was also nice to see so many vaguely familiar faces.

And by that I mean every time I turned the corner I was greeted by someone I had worked with in the past. At one of the 100 agencies I had worked at in the past. Even more astonishing, people actually seemed happy to see me. Much more so than my kids. Or my wife.

"Rich Siegel? Look at you. You haven't changed a bit. It's so good to see you."

Of course, within seconds, this quickly turned into a humiliating experience, because for the life of me I can't remember the names of any of the people who seemed to derive so much joy from the temporary reunion.

Even more embarrassing, I'm not 100% sure I couldn't remember those names because I never knew them in the first place.

And for that I need to make a full-throated public apology.

There is a silver lining in all this.

Because if I never knew your name, or knew it but now have forgotten it, there's a 100% probability you never crossed me, never shivved me in the back, never stepped on my chrome dome to thoughtlessly further your career.

Because I NEVER forget the names of those people.

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