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The Manifesto I Wish I’d Written

At more than 3M views, it’s likely you’ve seen this already. If you haven’t — and even if you have — take 15 minutes to watch it now. Or a few less minutes to read the transcript.

And be careful to avoid “yeah, but he’s Steve Jobs so reinventing is easier” thinking. I would argue it’s even harder for those who have become so public to turn themselves into something even better. Look at almost every actor who tried to become a musician, and you’ll know what I’m getting at.

Every somebody was once a nobody. Even Steve Jobs.

You Love Your Home. You Love Your Career. Would You Leave One for the Other? -By Brad Mislow

The business of big advertising is concentrated in a handful of cities. New York, Chicago, San Francisco, Minneapolis, Boston, etc. That’s where the jobs are (or used to be). Sure, there are fantastic agencies in smaller markets (Richmond, Portland, etc.). Either way if you want a shot at the big leagues, you may have to pack up and move.

The trouble is this land is filled with great places to live that don’t have ad industries. A lot of those people call those places home. Those of us from there know how cheap it is to live in the suburbs of St. Louis, Atlanta, Orlando, Salt Lake City, etc. Lots of affordable houses. Malls are close. Parking is plentiful. You don’t have to pay out the nose to join a pool. Are you willing to give up the comforts of suburbia for the discomforts of life as an urban ad executive? Are you willing to move away from friends, family and spacious dwellings and into in an overpriced, tiny apartment in a loud city where having a car is a luxury?

The Hollywood version of this story always ends with home winning over stupid capitalism. And then a dream job falls in the protagonist’s lap. And we fade out over an upbeat pop song. In reality, this is not always the case. You may spend years grinding days and nights in an office, eating cold Chinese take-out and wondering when you’ll be promoted next. The rewards are great if things go your way and if all that hard work pays off.

But overall is the sacrifice it worth it? If you love what you do, if you love working in advertising, then only you know the answer.

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Brad Mislow is a freelance senior copywriter/ACD who lives in New York. He thinks a lot. Sometimes, too much.

The More You Decorate, The More There Is To Pack

Every place I’ve ever worked had at least one person who refused to decorate. Walking into their space was like entering a sensory deprivation office, with nothing but white walls, a computer and a pen.

I didn’t understand these people. I was someone who needed to feel comfortable at work.  Pictures of my kids (never knew when I wouldn’t be home for dinner), a cushy couch (never knew when I wouldn’t be home), and a framed Chagall print on my wall gave my office a sense individuality.

But really, I was just giving myself the illusion of permanence.

It’s no coincidence that most of the white-wallers had been in the business a while. In hindsight, all of the people I’m remembering were in their 40s and had seen their share of layoffs. At the time I thought it was sad. Poor guy. He’s just expecting to lose this job.

But now, I look at it as pragmatic. Unless you work for yourself, there’s a fairly high likelihood that someone is going to call you into their office one day to tell you your services are no longer necessary. We are bolts in a machine. Workers in a factory.  Each with a finite life expectancy.

I don’t look at that as negative or doomesdayish. Quite the opposite. Having the understanding of my role in the bigger system has liberated me to find another system. That’s what I love about freelancing so much. I can visit an agency, get my hands dirty, and never expect to be treated as anything but a service for hire.

Not to mention, I’ll never have to pack another box again.

What Do You Expect?

I grew up with someone who lived by the motto, “Hope for the best, but expect the worst.” His feeling was, if you hope for the best, there’s always a chance that some day you’ll get lucky. But if you expect the worst, well, when things go sour there’s less room for disappointment.

But here’s the thing — nobody who ever did anything great expected the worst. They may allow for failure on the first or second or 50th try. They may expect an uphill battle and temporary setbacks. But they always believe the best is imminent.

To expect the worst is to subconsciously guide yourself to that end. It paves the way for mediocrity and self-fulfilling prophesies. If you expect the worst, there’s nothing to lose — especially your emotional investment.

What if, just for once, you allowed yourself to expect the best? I mean, really, truly felt it in your bones. If you believed in the best possible result, how would you approach your project differently? Would you spend a little extra time? Do a little more research? If something went haywire after the first day, would you just give up? Or look for a way to learn from it and make it better?

I’m learning more and more each day about the power that intentions have over the course of our lives. And not because of some mystical, unseen energy (although I’m believing in that too). But because of the way our beliefs affect the way we act.

We all know hard-luck people. They expect the worst and are always rewarded. We also know charmed lives that find good fortune every day. Regardless of which side of that spectrum you fall on, you can be sure that you’re wearing your beliefs on your sleeve. And people around you react accordingly.

It’s a little bit chicken-and-egg. Do negative thinkers get that way because of negative circumstances? Or are negative circumstances invited by negative thinking? All I know is, there are people who expect the best and get it. And I expect to be one of them.

Four Ways To Watch (And Support) Lemonade

1. Come to a screening

It is the purest way to see it. You get to watch Lemonade with a bunch of other folks, most of whom are or have been laid off. Then we get to have a conversation about the film, how it was made, and talk about how you can make your own Lemonade. Usually, there’s some kind of post-viewing party with drinks where ideas get passed around like little bits of energy.

2. Buy the DVD from Lemonademovie.com


These are printed on demand from the supplier (Kunaki) and can be shipped to most countries around the world. For every $9.99 order, Lemonade gets $8.99. It’s a great system that puts a lot of money back into the project. And the end product is pretty fantastic.

3. Buy the DVD from Amazon.com


Some folks prefer the granddaddy of e-commerce over the relative unknown of Kunaki. I can respect that. Plus, they ship to the countries that Kunaki doesn’t. But if you do purchase from Amazon, just know that I’m shipping supply from Kunaki to Amazon anyway. Plus they charge me 55% of every order.

4. Watch Lemonade on Hulu

If you’re unemployed without a steady income, this is the way to go. (You must also live in the US.) The ads are short and not unbearably placed. And you can watch it as many times as you want for free.  If you need a little on-demand inspiration, Hulu is perfect. And if you like it, make sure you leave a review. It matters.

The Ubiquitous Persuaders: It Ain’t All Piss n’ Vinegar

When you read George Parker’s raw blog, Adscam, it’s hard not to get angry….sometimes with George, sometimes at George. It’s written on pure emotion and f-bombs. The douchenozzles, the Poisoned Dwarf, the BDAs. He spews upwards of five posts a day, pulls no punches, and in almost all cases, says the things most of us wish we could.

But when I read his new book, The Ubiquitous Persuaders, I discovered something about George. The man is a scholar. I learned more about the history and roots of advertising in the first three chapters than I have in 15 years, and I consider myself to be something of an ad geek.

George is a lifelong student of the business. And he educates his readers in great detail about where advertising came from, so we can see the absurdity in where it is going. As he says in the book, “Damn, we don’t even learn from the past, so how the hell can we forecast the future?”

What readers of this blog will surely connect with is George’s breakdown of big agencies’ self destruction. Conglomerates buy independents, and with rare exception (Goodby being the only one of note), the creativity they purchase gets bean-counted to death when accountants start running the joint. From the very first chapter:

The bottom line is simply about making the bottom line. Or, as the financial director of one of Madison Avenue’s largest agencies was reputed to have said upon hearing they had just picked up a prestigious national account that would allow the agency to do some high quality work, “Fuck the work. What about the money?”

George calls The Ubiquitous Persuaders “A fifty year update of Vance Packard’s book The Hidden Persuaders, which I admittedly haven’t read. All I know is that this current version provides excellent analysis of everything from the industry’s gold rush to acquire technology clients to commercials promising the end of erectile dysfunction. It’s educational, entertaining, and one hell of a fine read.

I once thought George Parker was a vitriolic, no-substance curmudgeon with a chip on his shoulder. Well, The Ubiquitous Persuaders proved me right about everything except the no-substance part. If you read AdScam, then you must buy and read The Ubiquitous Persuaders.

You will never look at Mr. Parker the same way again.

Is The Future Of Jobs Lots Of Jobs?

Several people pointed me to this article in the Boston Sunday Globe about the future of the workplace. And I’m glad they did.

You should absolutely read the piece in its entirety, but here’s an excerpt that summarizes it nicely:

The middle of the 20th century was the age of the great employer: Mainstream success was a stable job at a single company, steadily ascending from middle to upper management. That began to change in the 1970s and 1980s, for reasons that were social as well as economic: American conglomerates began to face stiff foreign competition, and the country accustomed itself to – and even began to celebrate – a more mercurial, less cosseted brand of capitalism. The Organization Man was replaced by the worker as free agent, one who might with little regret leave a job when a competitor gave a better offer, or who might be left jobless when his company merged with another. The arc of the average career trajectory grew more fractured.

What we’re seeing today, says Thomas Malone, a professor at the MIT Sloan School of Management and the author of the 2004 book “The Future of Work,” is a further shift. The growing freelance workforce, he argues, is made up of people who see themselves not as having a single job so much as having several at once.

This has been my life for the past 15 months. I’ve taken on lots of little jobs to cobble together a living. Freelance here, DVD sales there, throw in a couple of teaching gigs. Write a book? Sure! Learn how to become a public speaker? Why the hell not? I’m exploring any and all ways to thrive, and I’m having a blast.

I’ve been asked quite a few times about the biggest difference between someone who can work for themselves vs. someone who has to work for an employer. My reply? A high tolerance for fear. As the Globe article articulates:

One of the most basic benefits of a steady job, of course, is a measure of job security. Full-time jobs can always be terminated, as millions of Americans have been recently reminded, but with freelance work, potential unemployment lurks at the end of every short-term contract.

The Globe piece goes on to talk about organizations like The Freelancers Union and elance that are easing some of those fears for independent workers. (Incidentally, I wish The Freelancers Union offered health insurance in MA. I reached out to them on Twitter to see how I can help them bring it here. You never know.)

It’s hard to “trust the universe” when it comes to money. When you can’t see the path 30 days in front of you, it’s pretty easy to jump at the first full-time gig you’re offered. It’s even easier to stay in a job you hate.

To work for yourself is to trust yourself. To work for someone else is to trust them.

Learning To Stand On Our Own

Please Feed The Animals made a new business presentation last week.

We didn’t have anybody with a British accent talking about psychographics. There weren’t teams of leaders responsible for different sections of the deck. And I couldn’t turn to a boss to bail me out of the rocky bits.

For the first time in my career, I was pitching new business without representing an employer. We showed our past work, sold the shit out the idea (singular), and showed the estimate.

We had some back and forth. Articulated our viewpoint. Overcame objections.

And at the end of the meeting, the client signed the estimate.

Just like that.

It was exactly how you picture new business meetings going down. It literally could not have gone any better.

Then two days ago, after we started getting our team in place and working on the assignment, politics happened. The head of the company decided to it give it to their agency of record.

Needless to say we were disappointed. And so were our direct clients. They thought they had been given autonomy. We thought we had been given the project.

The good news is we learned how to stand on our own two feet. We gained confidence in our model. And, they are paying us for the hours we put in.

All we can say is, shit happens.

But for a while there, the future sure seemed pretty clear.

Thank You To The Lemonaders

On Lemonademovie.com, there’s a link to join the email list.

For the next two days, subscribing will get you access to watch Lemonade in its entirety online. Then on Friday 12/15, I’m removing it from the server.

It’s my small way of saying thank you.

The Eight Irresistable Principles Of Fun

Found this over on Chrisbrogan.com. Worth five minutes of your day today. Also check out EightPrinciples.com.