No man is an island.

As I was updating my LinkedIn profile for recruiters and potential employers I began reflecting on the fact that nothing I’ve done throughout my career has been done on my own.

The headlines and copy I’ve written by myself only happened because of the great mentors, creative partners and supportive AEs and clients I’ve had. Pitching websites to clients and articulating why user behavior should drive design happened because I’ve learned from some incredibly talented UX/UI designers. Directing actors and getting their best performances in a booth or on a set happened because I was lucky enough to have worked with so many, much more talented directors than I am.

I’m humbled by and grateful for my past successes and I look forward to a bright future. I don’t know exactly what or where my next gig will be (that’s the nature of freelancing) but I know that I’ll approach it with the same curiosity, openness, passion and excitement I had when I got my very first assignment at my very first agency.

Just like I’ve done with every project since.

If you’ve got an opening for a freelance or full-time copywriter with a wealth of diverse experience and track record of success, I’d be thankful for your consideration.

Do it.

Sorry, clients, but there isn’t a magic formula for your advertising/marketing success. There isn’t a single Agency Process™ on the planet that works for every single brand every single time. And if you ever pick up a book on marketing that promises you a step-by-step approach will stimulate your brand growth, throw it in the dumpster fire.

Yes, part of what we do is science-based. Behavioral science, that is, and behavioral science is based upon experimentation. Analytics and data can help us predict behavior and give us some insights into what types of messages work best in what spaces and when, but people aren’t entirely predictable — our behaviors change as our circumstances change. We’re constantly evaluating and adapting and adjusting. As such, more often than not, we buy emotionally and then justify our purchase decisions rationally.

“It was cool. Plus, it was on sale.” 

Way back in 2003, Goodby, Silverstein & Partners produced one of the greatest automotive spots ever, in my opinion. The story goes that when the dealers saw the spot they hated it. It didn’t show the cars until the very end. Didn’t talk about the warranty. Didn’t talk about fuel efficiency. In other words, it didn’t follow the automotive advertising formula and, therefore, it didn’t fly with the dealers. However, the CMO of Saturn loved it and she ran it despite their objections. And every time the spot ran, visits to the dealerships increased. Yes, Saturn is no longer around. But it wasn’t the advertising from GS&P that killed that brand.

I recently saw a post on r/advertising where someone plugged a bunch of famous slogans into Grammarly and, predictably, few came out unchanged. Why? Because the slogans were written by people who understood that in order to stand out, they had to stand apart. To break free from convention. Free from same. Free from safe. To freely take risks

To think different.

Sorry, clients, there isn’t a magic formula for your advertising/marketing success. But if you keep doing and saying what every other brand in your category is doing and saying, keep following convention, keep minimizing emotion, you’re going to fail your brand. Guaranteed.

Redesigning the American flag. Reenergizing sales.

One career highlight for me so far has been pitching and winning AOR for Sun-Maid against agencies you’ve heard of while I was working at one you probably haven’t. As I led the creative teams and developed our creative approach, I also helped develop the brand and overall comms strategy for the pitch. A lot of great work was produced in a short amount of time by a lot of great people with the hope of winning a classic American brand.

When we got the call that we’d won the business, the agency erupted in celebration. Champagne and booze and pigs in a blanket flowed as we congratulated one another while letting out a collective sigh of relief. All of the late nights and teeth gnashing and hair pulling paid off. It was incredible news. It was pure joy.

And then a couple weeks later we got some bad news: Sun-Maid was putting it’s branding and packaging up for a separate review. Not because they didn’t think we could do it, they knew our design capabilities, but they were worried with all the other Sun-Maid work already on our plate that we wouldn’t have time to do it. I asked the client to be included in the pitch and they gave us a shot. Against design agencies you’ve heard of. And we won that work, too.

“If you redesign that little red box it’s like redesigning the American flag. Better be careful.”

Prior to jumping into designs, we conducted focus groups across the country asking people what they thought of the current branding and packaging and how Sun-Maid could change them to resonate better for millennial consumers. We heard all kinds of crazy stuff, as you typically do in focus groups, but that quote about the American flag stuck with me.

I remember sitting in the Sun-Maid war room in the agency one night, looking at hundreds of designs taped to the wall, and thinking about that quote. As I began the process of whittling down the options and preparing feedback for the ones moving forward, I couldn’t help but feel humility and gratitude. It’s not often you get asked to lead the redesign of a true American icon. And I knew that our approach needed to be evolutionary, not revolutionary.

Not only were the redesigns embraced by the design community, consumers embraced them, along with a new brand campaign, too. And for the first time in years, Sun-Maid saw positive sales in the raisin category.

Not bad work for a guy you’ve probably never heard of. Right?

Hello. And goodbye.

What I love about advertising isn’t the timesheets. It isn’t the cold pizza, goopy Chinese food or Cisco coffee at 2 o’clock in the morning. Day after day. Night after night. It isn’t the weekends that aren’t really weekends or annual postponed vacations. It’s not the egos or the politics or the drama that unfolds when they’re combined. It certainly isn’t the missed dinners, missed games, missed milestones.

What I love about advertising is the ads. Print ads. TV ads. Social ads. Digital ads. Ads that aren’t really ads, but really are ads. Whatever — it doesn’t matter. I love looking at them. I love listening to them. I love experiencing them. The only thing better, to me, is making them.

Which is why I’m done with advertising. 

Specifically, I’m done with the business of advertising. I’ll leave worrying about margins, employee churn rates and new business wins and/or losses to the agency Chief Operating Masochist. 

Me? I’m going to have fun. I’m going to focus on the work. Thinking and creating and writing and coloring and playing. Because there’s nothing better than coming up with something from nothing. Solving a brand or a business problem. Producing smart, conceptual, well-crafted advertising — in whatever form it takes.

Going freelance wasn’t an easy decision. I’ve been a full-time agency employee my entire career. But going through a pandemic hasn’t been easy, either, and so far I’ve made it and I’ve learned a lot about myself — about what’s most important to me both personally and professionally.

No doubt I’ll miss the free booze and foosball tables. The epic holiday parties and gossip that follows. I’ll miss being on a team that’s all in the same boat, all rowing in the same direction. Most of all, I’ll miss hanging out with other ad nerds and talking shop on a daily basis. But I’ve learned I can successfully create great work from home without sacrificing a large chunk of my life, or sanity. Should I miss agency life too much, as a freelancer, I can always set up shop in an agency conference room for an afternoon.

If you’re an agency recruiter or creative director in need of a freelance creative director/copywriter/art director, a marketing professional or business owner who needs support, or someone who just wants a fresh set of creative eyes on something, I’m available.

In praise of the one-off.

Print is dead. It’s been replaced by digital content, social content, liquid content, native content, paid content, endorsed content, influencer content, search content and any other NEW medium that houses content that our industry believes will make Millennials content to give up their virtual and real dollar bills. Or likes. Or shares. Or hearts. And if our content goes viral, even better.

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Don’t get me wrong — I love that we get to play with a bigger box of crayons. In fact, over the past few years I’ve done more digital than traditional advertising. And, being the tech nerd I am, I’ve loved every minute of it. Which is why, when something like a single print ad comes across my desk, I love working on that even more.

Print is personal. You don’t just download a template off the World Wide Web Super Information Highway, swap out a logo and a few photos, slug in some SEO-friendly copy and then call it a day. Creating a print ad is a much more intimate experience. At least, it is for me.

It reminds me that I don’t have a job; I have a craft. It reinforces my love for a well-written headline over a tweet. And it refuels my drive to make it back into the CA print annual.

Remember when getting in CA was a big deal?

For this Sauder’s Eggs print ad, I didn’t work with a partner. I was the writer, art director and designer. But not by choice. This ad was a freebie for a client quench was hoping to woo into a long-term relationship. It had to be done quickly and on the cheap. There wasn’t even a brief. And I loved every millisecond of the assignment.

More important, the prospective client loved the ad as presented. Not a single change was recommended or made. And I’m grateful to say, Sauder’s Eggs is no longer a prospective quench client. They’re a client. In part because of a one-off print ad that ran on the back cover of a B2B pub with less than 5,000 readers.

A print ad that also happened to take Gold in the 2016 Philadelphia Addy Awards.

So now we’re auditing Sauder’s current website, monitoring their social media channels, and developing their brand strategy that’ll soon inform their content strategy.

Not too shabby for the walking dead, huh?

Case study: Rebranding Sauder Furniture.

While my official role on the Sauder account at Bader Rutter was Creative Director, I had my head, and hands, on every aspect of the account. From developing the brand strategy to developing and executing the content and social strategy, from creating the brand voice and developing the look — Sauder gave me the opportunity to work with teams across multiple disciplines to reshape the 80-year-old brand for the coveted Millennial audience.

Before we brought the new brand to life, however, we did our homework on Millennials. In addition to creating a psychographic profile and a detailed buyers’ journey, we shared our vision of how Millennials would interact with the new Sauder brand online and at retail.

Once we gained approval to move forward and develop creative based upon our strategic approach and understanding of the target audience, we worked fast and furiously to launch the new brand in less than a year. Traffic to the site and engagement in their social channels have significantly increased since the launch.

sauder.com   Sauder Pinterest   Sauder Facebook   Sauder Twitter

Case study: Johnson Controls launches Panoptix.

In October, 2011, Johnson Controls, Inc. wanted to launch a new product, Panoptix, at the GreenBuild trade show. Panoptix is a comprehensive, cloud based, building efficiency system. It operates on an open platform where a community of Panoptix users can create its own apps, in addition to using the Johnson Controls produced apps, to manage their building systems from any device, anywhere. And it was the first of its kind. Because this software based solution was new territory for a company known more for building hardware, like HVAC systems and refrigeration units, positioning Johnson Controls as a thought leader in technology leading up to Greenbuild was important.

In order to tease the Panoptix offering and create technology-based content, my team at Bader Rutter and I created the "What's Possible" campaign that included a Johnson Controls  blog as well as Twitter and Facebook pages. See the work here. Through those social channels and an e-mail based marketing campaign, we encouraged people to sign up on the blog, follow Johnson Controls on Twitter and like them on Facebook. Those who did received a Botanicals Kit — a device you stick in a houseplant that’s connected to a Twitter account. It tweets you when your plant needs water and again when it’s happily watered. From the campaign about the Botanicals Kit: “We think this crazy green gadget is a great example that, with technology, anything is possible. It’s simple. It’s efficient. It makes things easy to manage.”

For the trade show, we wanted to create a level of engagement with attendees that matched the Panoptix offering. It had to be technology-based, community-based and mobile-friendly. So we created the Panoptix wall. A 10x7 foot interactive wall that we ran from Twitter where we posted content about the Panoptix platform. Attendees, and non-attendees, could post messages to the wall from their Twitter accounts or by SMS. Those at the show could then touch their message, move them around, make them bigger, or shoot them through a virtual slingshot across the wall. We also used the wall for time-based contests at the show that encouraged people to visit the booth. For the booth, we designed it to be open and comfortable, and as a place where Johnson Controls could conduct media interviews.

In less than 3 days, over 6,000 messages were posted to the wall. And over 300 people signed up as customers for Panoptix, despite the fact the product wasn’t on the market at the time of the show. Our campaign generated more foot traffic to the Johnson Controls booth than they’d had in previous years and far exceeded their expectations.

TL;DR: I launched a new brand and created an interactive, social media wall at a trade show

Uh, yeah, I have a question. Or three.

I ask “why” a lot. In part because I’m inherently curious. One of the perks of being in advertising is that I’ve learned about things I otherwise wouldn’t if I were, say, a donkey rancher. And I love when I get to work in a category or on a product I haven’t before — it gives me the opportunity to learn new stuff.

I also ask “why” a lot because, in our business, I believe there’s always a better way to do everything. I’m constantly looking to improve my work and myself. So I question motives. Methods. Outcomes.

That’s not for everyone. Especially the “we’ve always done it this way” types.

People are fascinating, weird, wonderful creatures. We’re constantly in motion. We’re reinventing our world and ourselves faster than we ever have. The advances we’ve made in technology, engineering and science over the past 20 years — from the invention of the iPhone to the discovery of the “God Particle” — is mind-boggling.

I recently watched a show about the making of National Lampoon’s Vacation. Chevy Chase was talking about the scene in St. Louis and said when he asked everyone to roll up their windows, that if you look closely enough, his window didn’t really roll up. He faked the reeling motion so the camera could get a clean shot of him saying his line. My seven-year-old, even my thirteen-year-old, would have no idea what he was talking about. They press a button. It’s a different world.

So why does advertising remain, largely, the same?

Because not enough people ask “why.” Not enough people challenge. As fascinating, weird and wonderful as we are, we’re also creatures of habit. Creatures of comfort — we know what we know. Selling floor cleaner? Better show a sparkling floor and a mildly attractive woman with a smile on her face.

I think comfortable is boring. And believe boring doesn’t get a second glance. It isn’t given a second thought. Ever watch someone read a magazine? They flip right past the ads because they all look and sound the same. That’s especially true in trade pubs. Selling cattle feed? Better show a nutritious looking nugget and a mildly attractive cow with a smile on her face.

A former colleague said, “You’ve got to get comfortable with being uncomfortable.”

That is something I absolutely do not question.

I'm not your whipping boy.

“Uh, because I thought it looked cool.”

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Sitting behind the kit with Julian Fist. Questionable scarf choice aside, check out my pinky action.

Nope. Nope. And nope. Clients aren’t paying for “it looked cool.” They want a point of view. They want to understand why they’re paying for what they’re paying for. And if you can’t articulate why you did what you did, you’re increasing the chances your work will get whipped into oblivion and killed.

In 2009 Julian Fist asked me to design their newest CD, A Thousand Days. The band had been working on the album for over two and a half years and believed it was a miracle the record was finally going to be released. Of course, I jumped at the chance. When you’re a design and music nerd and a band asks you to design their CD/album/record (whatever the kids are calling them these days) you don’t say no.

So I started sketching. And thinking. And sketching. And thinking.

I presented the band with rough sketches, explaining my thinking as I went, but one direction stood out from the rest — a sketch of a bush/tree on fire. As I was coming up with concepts I kept thinking about my initial conversation with the band and about the effort it took to make the CD. It made me think about Moses wandering around in the desert for ten thousand years (I have no idea why) and about the miracle of him finding the burning bush. At the time I thought Moses was only out there for a thousand days and I didn’t know the bush wasn’t really important to the story.

But, whatever. At least I got the fire part right. And the metaphor held up.

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As I went from paper to computer, every aspect of the design was completely thought out. The tree has four roots; each represents a member of the band. Each of the four branches represents a band member’s family at that time. For example, the drummer’s branch has two branches coming off it representing his wife and daughter. There are thirteen flames representing the thirteen tracks on the CD. The two red sparks at the top represent the two founding members of the band coming together. And the simplistic design would easily reproduce in one color for t-shirts, stickers and flyers. For the type, In keeping with my badly botched metaphor, I chose an old style Roman typeface, Adobe Jenson. And everything rests on the same baseline grid.

If you’re interested, you can buy the album from iTunes here and follow Julian Fist on Facebook here.

So much in our business is subjective. Some clients don’t like purple. Some love it. Whatever. If you have a reason, if you have conviction, if you can show a client, creative director or account executive why you’ve chosen a certain typeface or color, often they’ll support you and your stuff won’t die. I screwed up the story of Moses in the desert. But the thinking was right, I could articulate my reasons for the design and I got it produced.

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Maybe my album cover won’t ever receive praise like the work of Storm Thorgerson or the Ames Bros. It’ll probably never get a single vote in a Rolling Stone readers’ poll. And I’m positive nme.com will never call asking for the scoop behind the design — I'm no Stanley Donwood of Radiohead album cover fame. But I’m totally cool with all that — and I’m stoked I got to design an album. As a bonus I had the pleasure of designing the flyer, and playing with the band, for their holiday CD release party.

So hey, Julian Fist, when you’re ready to release your next CD, you’ve got my number.

The suckiest bunch of sucks who ever sucked.

Whether you’re the one commissioning them or the one designing them, logos are hard. I know — I’ve done both. When we decided to update the Sauder logo, I hired a designer for the job. I gave him some direction and after several rounds of thumbnails we decided to present nine refined sketches to the client. Yes, that’s a lot. From there, based on feedback, we whittled the nine to three and presented to the owner.

And then the designer fell ill and was hospitalized.

With an approaching deadline, a shrinking budget and a toiling group of designers, I decided to finish the logos myself. The three logos became two and I began further refinement — picking and setting the type, picking the color palettes, fretting over alignments, etc. One logo finally emerged and after a little more refinement the new Sauder logo was born.

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Now, I’ve never had one of my logos reviewed on site like Brand New. Not sure what that says about my logos or me. But when a new logo is unleashed upon the internet, I am constantly amazed at the number of negative, hateful comments left by “guest” reviewers. Creative people are an insecure lot — that, I get. We’re constantly being told our ideas suck. By our partners. Our CDs. Our AEs. Clients. Wives. In-laws. Etc.

So I wonder why we bash one another? That, I don’t get.

Some say it’s the cloak of anonymity that propels people to say things they otherwise wouldn’t in person. I’m not sure I buy it. I’ve never posted anonymously. If I’ve had something to say, I’ve said it as myself. I don’t have an online or offline persona — I have me.

Others argue that the reason people troll is because they can throw a comment out, leave, and not be held accountable for their words. Okay. But aren’t people accountable to themselves? I’ve said and done plenty of stupid things in my life. In public, no less. But I’ve always been accountable and have always taken responsibility for my words and actions — not that ownership gives me a pass to be a jerk.

I can’t sleep with a jerk.

Did the person who designed the new Olive Garden logo deserve all the hate? I feel bad for them — even Fast Company got in a few jabs. And why, when somebody leaves an agency, do the people who comment on AgencySpy happily, anonymously, tell the rest of the world how much that person sucks?

It’s a poor reflection on our industry. An industry that I love. And, according to "experts" on the internet, an industry that’s filled with a bunch of people who suck.

AEs can concept, too.

In 2012, I was tapped as the Creative Director on Sentricon at Bader Rutter. At that time, we began brand planning on the account for 2013. My colleagues and I led several months of workshops, held numerous focus groups and conducted countless brand exercises with our clients. Once everyone agreed on the new direction for the brand, it was time to write the creative brief and pick and brief the creative teams.

But I had a problem.

So many people from different disciplines contributed to the planning process and I didn’t want their contributions or ideas to get lost. Besides, the assignment wasn’t necessarily a “creative” assignment — along with some PR efforts, we were mainly going to produce materials for Sentricon to use in-house. So rather than have each member of the team focus solely on their discipline, their part of the assignment, I thought we should take a more collaborative approach.

I thought everyone should concept together.

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Sure, it’s not unusual for planners, media buyers, etc., to brainstorm with a creative team. But at the time, the Sentricon team wasn’t accustomed to working that way. Once everyone bought into my recommendation, I set up a war room and held the first concept session. The PR rep, the account supervisor, the AEs, the planner, the developer, the media buyer and the art director and copywriter filled the room. And after a few awkward starts and stops, they filled the walls with concepts.

When I say awkward starts and stops, I mean very awkward starts and stops.

Coming up with concepts is hard, even for the most seasoned art director or copywriter. But they get the process. They’re not afraid to throw out “stupid” ideas, they’re not afraid of looking silly, they’re not afraid of being judged. And once everyone else got it, the concepts started to flow. Even our client got in on the action — we shared our directions with her prior to our presentation to her team.

Whether their concepts made it to the client or not, every member of the team took ownership of the work. Everyone had a voice. Everyone had an opinion. Everyone mattered. Collaboration isn’t always easy or comfortable. But in a “I need it tomorrow and it has to work across all channels and I only have $4.99 and can you make it go viral” kind of world, I believe it’s more important than ever.

About the work: We created photography and established the brand voice for use across different digital properties, many were not managed by BR, and for sales materials to be produced in-house. For a few select markets, we created a radio spot that could be tagged by sales reps. We also ran a banner ad in those markets that expanded showing consumers local Sentricon rep locations and a video we made (see it here) explaining how Sentricon works. In addition, I led the update to the logo so it better reflected the new brand position.

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It's alive! Wait. No. No it isn't.

In August of 2012, Burpee Home Gardens asked my team and I at Bader Rutter to do an ad for early 2013 introducing new flowers to consumers. Our target: women aged 35-55 who enjoyed flowers but didn’t consider themselves adept gardeners. Burpee Home Gardens’ flowers are bred to be easy to grow and tough to kill. Perfect for the target.

But I didn’t want to just do a print ad. Because our target was online, researching plants and gardening tips, I wanted to reach them through Burpee Home Gardens’ social channels — channels managed by another agency.

I recommended we create and shoot easy, do-it-yourself, inspirational garden projects and, from the print ad, point our target to the Burpee Home Gardens Pinterest page where they’d see the videos and get more tips. Then I recommended we use social media to drive even more people to the content. The idea was blessed and off we went to execute — my role was creative director and art director. We shot, we cut, we wrote, we made the comp and shared everything with our client. Smiles all around. A few days later, we got the call.

The un-retouched comp and videos. You can see more of the videos here.

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“I just got out of a meeting with my boss and he doesn’t want to run this ad. He wants a more retail-focused ad. And guys, he made it clear, there is no push-back on this.”

When you’ve been in the business a while you learn to get a thick skin. I’ve had more stuff killed than approved but I’d never had approved creative killed. With three weeks before a publication deadline, no less. Our client fought the good fight to keep the campaign alive but her boss didn’t buy into the social strategy. So we rallied and I quickly came up with the headline, layout and design of the ad that did run — barely making the publication date.

The print ad that ran.

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There was a time in my career when, in a situation like that, I’d have thrown a hissy fit and taken my ball and gone home. But I’ve mellowed and have learned to keep my ego in check. For me, it’s never fun having work killed. But it’s always fun, no matter the assignment, creating the work.

Got a graveyard yourself? I'd love to hear about it. 

When is enough, enough?

Recently, I redesigned this site and am in the process of adding my latest work. Neither an easy task. The problem is I think a lot. About a lot. And scrutinize, and question, and wonder and worry. I want everything to be perfect. When I was sketching out layouts for this version of this site, I wanted my ability as a copywriter and a problem solver to take center stage — in other words, my work. Because I know, if you’re hiring me, it’s not because I won the “fun run” in 5th grade (true story) or because my dog is named Bacon (it was that or “Pizza”). Once I got the design worked out, that’s when things got tough. Really tough.

I had to figure out what work to show, how to show it and what to say about it.

Creative directors used to ask to see my 15 best print ads and a handful of spots. It wasn’t so hard to pick 15 ads when I only had 20 or so to choose from. But times have changed. The business has changed. And CDs aren’t just asking for print ads and some TV. My 20 or so ads have grown to hundreds of ads and a lot of those ads aren’t even ads. So over the next couple of weeks I’ll be adding more brands that I’ve worked on over the past 3 years.

Ultimately, when trying to decide what to showcase from my efforts as a copywriter and thinker over the past few years came down to one thing: if I saw somebody else’s name on this site, would I want to hire them?

I don’t know if I have shown too much work, but I think I’ve shown enough (for the moment). And I know if I were looking for a copywriter who can do more than write, someone who's passionate and curious and sometimes ridiculous, I’d give me a shot.

TLDR; I think a lot. And think that thinking, in advertising, isn’t such a bad thing.

Identity crisis?

I’m an art director. I’m a copywriter. A traditional creative. A digital creative. I’m in production, account service, account planning, public relations and traditional and social media.

I’m also in the minority.

Every time I see a classified ad for a digital art director, traditional copywriter, digital account planner, etc. I’m reminded that as much as our industry likes to talk about progressing beyond the conventional model, it is still largely built upon silos.

Don’t get me wrong; I believe our business needs specialists. But while specializing in one thing, they should know and be open to all things.

As an art director, I’d much rather spend my time kerning than programming. But I know enough about different platforms and technologies so I can have intelligent conversations with developers and programmers about bringing an idea to life. However, I wanted this site to look and function very simply, to not over-shadow the work, but to make it happen I had to write code. That’s not the important part; the important part is that I’m up enough on HTML to know what code needed to be written.

Can someone please explain to me why a “traditional” art director can’t design and layout a website or why a “digital” art director can’t design and layout a print ad? Anyone? While you’re at it, I’d also like to know what, exactly, is a digital copywriter. And digital creative director. Why can’t a social media or interactive campaign come from the mind of a “traditional” creative? It can. And it should.

The best time to be in this business is right now. Though, I felt the same way 5 years ago and the 5 years before that. I’m a geek for advertising and thus a geek for technology. I’m excited by all of the tools and toys we get to play with every single day — and the promise of more to come. Today it might be smartphone app or smartly executed board on Pinterest. But tomorrow? All I know is that I’ll keep my eyes and ears wide open. And my pencil finely sharpened.  

Yes, I still use a pencil. And that probably puts me in the minority as well.

What's in a name?

I recently had a conversation with someone in the business I very much respect. My wife. She is the head of Account Service and PR at Laughlin Constable. She’s an impressive woman with an impressive title — Senior Vice President, Integrated Services. And she deserves it.

Myself, I’ve never cared about my title. My current one, Senior Copywriter, was bestowed upon me in protest. I didn’t want “Senior” or “Copywriter” but apparently our accountants and clients like titles. I prefer the more generic “Creative” but there isn’t a billing code for that.

What’s more, I’ve never wanted to be anything more than a creative. I’ve never wanted to be a creative director. Or ACD. (Okay, not entirely true. There was a brief period where my ego was out of check with my principles.) So what’s my problem with taking on a bigger title? I enjoy doing the work. Being a grunt. But, I'm a grunt that thinks strategically and keeps the focus of the work on strategy. I'm a grunt that helps with planning and developing briefs. One that builds and maintains client relationships. Pitches new business. Presents campaigns. And, yep, even provides creative direction.

And for me, money has never been a factor. In this business, you increase your salary by either getting promoted or by jumping from agency to agency. I’ve been lucky in that I’ve always worked for agencies that have compensated me based upon my abilities. Not my title.

So Megan was counseling me to abandon my position on the matter and ask for the title. By counseling, I mean she was telling me abandon my position on the matter and ask for the title. Her argument was that I mostly do what CDs do and that if I wanted people who don't know me to take me seriously, I should have a title that matches my abilities. My counter was that I’m a “creative” and that nobody takes me seriously anyway. A poor, poor attempt at humor that fell like a lead balloon. Yet I left the conversation believing in my belief that I don’t need a title.

Then today, I read this:

@copyrider Do you red flag people who've been at the same level for 4+ years? Cuz I do. There's gotta be a reason they're not getting promoted, right?

So what do you think? If you’re an employer, are you afraid to call upon a prospect because they haven’t ascended the corporate ladder? If you’re a client, are you asking why you’ve got the "B team" on your business? If you’re a creative, is it a goal to get the big title?

I can’t wait to hear your thoughts.

Sincerely,