I asked my children, ages three and five, for their perspective. And their answer? ''You’ll make new friends!'' I accepted the offer, still wondering, ''Why me?''
Week One:
I’m excited, interested, and more than a little apprehensive. So many people in this industry believe their own hype…what if this place is no different? How do I represent a company I don’t believe in? And what if my kids are wrong and I don’t make new friends?
Week Three:
I’m three weeks into my new job at McKee Wallwork Cleveland. Everyone seems smart, talented, and terribly hip. The candy-stuffed leprechaun piñata (the cause of much hilarity on my first day here, which was St. Patrick’s Day) is gone, so I no longer mistake it for a quiet, shortish coworker whose name I can’t remember.
I’m still confused as to how everyone seems to leave at a decent hour. They also all tend to break for lunch. I don’t recall ever working at an agency where that happens with such regularity. Folks seem to treat each other with respect. I think I’m being set up. I’ve started sneezing. Maybe I’m allergic to nice people.
Week Five:
I thought I had allergies, but the doctor tells me I’ve been walking around with asthma for the past few weeks. Who knew? And if my ''allergies'' aren’t due to the lack of misery and adversity around me, to which I’ve grown accustomed at other workplaces — if it was simply my being sick…
Can it be that this is a great place to work?
What’s the catch? Must there be a greater truth?
Week Six:
Talk about a greater truth. ''We all know,'' said a potential new client, ''that advertising is about lying about a product or service. How do you handle that?''
I didn’t field the question, and I don’t remember our answer. But what I wanted to say was, ''Since entering the field of advertising, I’ve been accused many times of going to the dark side. But I don’t lie. And as anyone in the business will tell you, the most effective campaigns are those that are based on core truths about products, systems, organizations, and the people who use them.''
But later, at the office, Bart Cleveland, the creative director, wrote in his AdAge.com blog that ''winning a pencil in the One Show will never feel as good as your kid giving you a hug.'' Of course, he believes you still need to win the One Show. He likes winning One Show pencils very much and thinks that winning stuff is good. But keeping things in perspective is — I think — what he’s talking about.
I’m coming to realize that my job combines equal parts of researcher, educator, and life coach. All things in good measure, taken together, make for excellence. Compromise on any part — whether it’s your family life, your belief in your talent, professionalism and your ability to win, or the way you’re willing to commit your resources to positioning yourself in the marketplace — and you’ll be sacrificing a greater success.
Week Eight:
Did I mention the whole lying thing? My new, righteous, professional tagline? ''You lie, you lose.''
I’m haunted by the potential client’s question. I keep asking myself, ''If we’re to spend our professional lives in an industry where we’re automatically pegged as insincere and untruthful, how do we gain the trust of others? And if we spend our professional lives projecting brand messages for our clients, how do we ever get at the truth about ourselves?''
And unless I can define that truth, how do I present it to others in a way that will compel them to listen, bond, and build a relationship?
Week 10:
I feel comfortable enough at the office to wear my favorite sneakers and share someone else’s peanut butter (with their permission). At our weekly meetings I’ve dared reference an obscure newspaper article about an aging musician regarding a creative pitch for a national account. And I didn’t feel (terribly) embarrassed. It’s getting easier.
My newfound mantra is serving me well — the whole ''you lie, you lose'' thing. And the need to know what our own truth is before we preach it elsewhere.
Week 11:
This afternoon we had Dilly Bars. I had never had one before. Very exciting stuff! Speaking of food, there’s a great new hamburger joint that opened around the corner, but I found the best baked potato smothered in green chile stew at the Museum of Natural History across the street.
Over the past two months, I’ve learned that the partners have not only built a fabulous new headquarters here. They’ve built a culture where life/work balance is discussed with the same importance as the profit and loss statements.
Call it (as Bart Cleveland would) the dispensation of Dilly Bars of Opportunity.
So when I stand in front of a potential client, I know that what I represent about our company is true and that it resonates across the board: if I trust the experience, knowledge, and talent that surround me, you can trust them too. And once the ball is rolling and work starts to take place, I know that the strategies and creative generated at McKee Wallwork Cleveland are grounded in the understanding that a great advertising campaign is only as good as the truth it reveals.
Week 12:
It’s Sunday night, and I’m looking forward to going to work. New day, new challenges, new opportunity, new headlines. No allergies. No leprechauns. Life is good.
So why me?
I like exploring new paths. I like opportunities to contribute. If I can reach out to organizations and businesses and create opportunities for the dozens of people who work here — how wonderful! What better way to tell people how highly you value their professionalism and their skill than to proudly represent them to the world? What better way to make new friends?
