Though I have now completed two solid weeks of Keto, it is safe to say these are not the salad days.
At least not in advertising.
We, meaning ad people, are at the front lines of a consumer-based economy and are often the canary in the coal mine. And right now something smells stinky. As someone who has been a mercenary for 15 years, I could have told you about the financial collapse of 2008, in 2007.
Between the trade wars, the skyrocketing deficit and the volatile stock market, I'm getting that same tingling feeling.
As if the impending recession were not enough, the ad industry itself is dissembling.
Holding company agencies can no longer sustain a non-AOR model. Cheap, ineffective digital platforms are getting more expensive but not more effective. And the powers that be, continue to impose sweatshop conditions on helpless art directors and copywriters.
"Jeff, this is your new partner, Olivia, you two are going to be sharing a computer."
"We're sending out for midnight munchies, did you guys want to order anything? Or would you prefer to wait for breakfast?"
"The CEO just bought a new yacht. And we've all been invited to a barnacle-scraping party."
In short, it's not pretty out there.
And though I am loathe to bring up the age issue, let's be 100% completely honest, creative directors can be a little hesitant to bring in 44 year old former creative directors.
As a result we've been, in the vernacular of Gary Vaynerchuk, "hustling our fucking asses off."
Finding direct work with small and large clients, doing projects for production companies, and even creating brand activation events for PR firms.
To keep the revenue stream streaming, we're going back to our roots. Old school. We're putting our money where our mouth is and trusting the persuasive and disruptive power of words and images.
Because when the going gets tough, the tough get advertising.
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