Guaranteed to knock the cynical right outta you. Pretty much a flawless pice of creative. (VIA)
Guaranteed to knock the cynical right outta you. Pretty much a flawless pice of creative. (VIA)
It’s no secret that my mother and I were not especially close in her later years. We started out that way, though, having a common enemy in Harold. He was the abusive husband and father who demoralized her with his fits of rage and turned me into an overachieving, codependent, people-pleaser.
She unexpectedly passed away last September. I think she was proud of me, yet surprised by my career path. I didn’t end up with lots of kids, make magnets for the refrigerator and knit. My DNA steered me towards writing, sales, and whatever it is I do all day.
It’s quite a process to go through a dead persons things, especially when it’s your mother. Finding that chapstick in a blazer pocket just about sent me over the edge. Her bottles of cologne, her makeup, funny socks with ladybugs on them…these things bring her into the room with me.
She was born on a family farm and led a small town life. In her earlier years, she was an amazing seamstress. Her creative streak was strong and while not working in fine silks or exotic fabrics, she found ways to express herself, and I think it helped her deal with the scars of domestic violence.
This doll furniture is made of plastic canvas and yarn. My daughter loved it. Hopefully my granddaughter will appreciate it, too.
Happy Mothers Day, Mom.
I’m not sure it was as good as the first effort, but still very worthwhile viewing. Gotta admire the chutzpah of the Tourism Folks who seized the moment to put Rockford on the radar!
I wish we were able to deliver something half this amazing for a “Dont Text and Drive” campaign we’re working on in Hooterville. This is simply genius stuff and talks directly to the target audience with substantial impact…for virtually no budget. Click the link and be impressed.
I gotta hand it to Designer Tim…he found this one and it is spot on! Where DID all those State Senators from Wisconsin go, anyway? Rockford, Illinois Tourism seized the moment brilliantly. Cheap Trick? Are you serious!
I worry about my reading habits. Or lack thereof.
So much content. So little time.
I’m like a little kid who is afraid she might miss something, so I have become a scanner. I breeze through Tweets, headlines, blogs and web sites, becoming Aware, but not really Knowing.
Yet I am cognizant of this behavior. Rather than mindlessly drift, I do force myself to slow down, embrace those pages that are worthy and try to leave with a working understanding of what I just consumed.
When I was young, my crazy, abusive father made me take a speed reading class so I could learn more, faster. He wanted me to be a doctor. (Can you imagine?) Thanks to him, I’ve spent my whole life over-achieving and I genuinely LIKE learning.
When I converted to Judaism, I told a Rabbi I wanted to learn “everything there was to know” about being Jewish. He shook his head and told me that would be impossible. Judaism is too vast, too subjective and interwoven, too fluid and open for debate, to ever be fully understood. I tried to prove him wrong. But he wasn’t.
But still I scan. Plowing through material with earnest determination to make my dead father proud and maybe the Rabbi, too.
My Grandmother says” You always do too much.”
Maybe I’m just nosey.
Once upon a time, there was this Adchick who…
During the “Epic, Historic” Blizzard of the Century (my Vermont pal says we’re not used to real snow storms here – whatever) I had my Grandmother, who still lives alone) come and stay with me. I finally told her if she was going to eat all my food and keep the furnace dialed at a tropical 80 degrees, she’d have to do a few chores.
LOOK! She could only shovel half the drive! I had to do the rest. You’d think at almost 96 years old, she could have finished the job.
When we’re stuck and need to refresh ourselves, this gets the creative juices flowing.
Thanks to Designer Tim for the find.
I’ve been horrible blogger, posting nothing for some time. But far more important matters have had to come before this indulgence.
I lost my mother last September and am now in “charge” of caring for an almost 96 year old, and still quite sharp, grandmother. (She has stayed with me during the Blizzard of the Century and I now know that constant chatter DOES run in the family.)
My colleague (and BFF) just lost his mother at a very young 71 years. She was the kind of woman I can only hope to be.
In our Small Shop, indulgences are set aside to keep the plates spinning. We are just four people who all possess a particular set of skills, with an army of independent contractors at the ready. There isn’t another person or department to write the spot, shoot the video, design the ad, or file the paperwork. We are each an entrepreneur in our own right, depending on the skills of the other to make it all go. We need each other to survive.
Although I’ve never worked in a big agency, I imagine there may be a lot of time wasted stepping around big egos. Who has time for this? We have customers to steer through a clients door. There are clients who must be led, taught, scolded, loved, and tended to. Whether its in Hooterville or nationwide, is the objective really so different?
So blogging will take a back seat as real life whirls by. We must be accountable to one another because the business plan depends on it.
I’m the cute one on the right.
I know Christmas is over, but I want this. It’s better than Billy Bass the Talking Fish. It looks like Santa is missing his left arm, too.
The guy is 102 years old, right outta Central Casting. And he’s got a point. Hey…if he’s not dating anyone, maybe I could hook him up with my Grandmother.
I’ve known little girls like this. Kinda spookey. Thanks to Clinton for the tip. Awesome.
If this doesn’t get you in the holiday spirit, I don’t know what will. But give me a cat, I’ll give it back. I’m deathly allergic to the little bastards.
In a mean spirited world, how refreshing is this…taking the edge off in a busy airport. And how smart of T-Mobile to associate themselves with this fun. Smiles all around. (VIA)
A billboard I guarantee you’ll NEVER, EVER see in Hooterville. Too good not to share. I think I’ll order one. (via)
For years, I have filled the silence with incessant chatter. (The psychology of why I’ve been an enthusiastic blabber mouth will come out in my memoir. If Tim Tebow can write one, so can I.)
When I got my first real job (selling air, aka Radio Sales) my boss told me: “Just shut up already. Ask your customer the question, then wait for an answer. The first one who talks, loses.”
Truer words were never spoken…no pun intended.
Listening is hard. Talking is easy. Listening is work. Especially when you listen to shit you have trouble understanding. (You, IT guy. I’m talkin’ about you.) But when you REEEAALLLY listen, it puts you in the power chair.
You’re thinking. They’re talking. You’re learning. They’re losing.
Being a better listener makes people like you because YOU are paying attention to THEM. Therefore, listening makes you popular and highly regarded. It means making better money, making better friends and in the end, making smarter choices.
Let us all shut up. Now.
You’re a hero at the end of the month and whore at the beginning.
A car sales guy once told me this. You bust your ass to make your sales goals, celebrate on the 30th and on the 1st, start all over again.
But what about the middle?
The middle for me is usually quite manageable.
And I hate it.
Manageable means there’s time for a nice lunch with that sales rep I’ve been putting off. Time to clean out a file, tidy up my desk, be at the gym by 5:30.
When you’re in business for yourself, manageable means you’re not making any money. Frantic means you are. It’s hard to relax as you wait for the next “thing”, whatever it is, to happen. I’ve made all the calls, media is placed, billing is out, and creative projects are merely perking, not boiling over. (Not to mention the holidays are almost here. Billable hours slow to a freaking crawl.)
Making the most of the middle, this is my goal. Learning to take advantage of a little down time…without panic.
“Whore”. The term seems a little strong. Perhaps “Paid Escort”?
It’s only the 15th…work the phones!
If you don’t know where your differential girdle spring is, watch this video and take notes. There’ll be a test later. Thanks to Clinton for the find. Hilarious.
Over the last several months (hell, maybe years) the performance of those folks who sell local media time and space has become so inept, it’s like a bad sitcom. Imagine the fat, lazy Network TV girl who always asks “What are we running this month?” while she chomps her gum. The radio girl who quite openly uncrosses her legs in front of male clients, hoping to usurp any rational decision. Then there’s the really obese Cable girl who takes a fiendish delight in pointing out a $2 error. But the really interesting douchebag of recent note is the newspaper salesguy. He’s all passive aggressive, refusing to accept the fact that being the agency means WE place the buy, not his designer pal in the clients office. “You’re not my client. They’re my client.” Really? His emasculation is on the calendar.
I started by selling radio many years ago…before the FCC screwed the broadcast industry by allowing anyone a license to broadcast. My sales manager preached the problem-solving approach to selling a client. Is there any other way?
So, Dear Time-and-Space-Sales Guys/Gals: Don’t breeze into my office without an appointment. Do NOT pitch me a 2 by 3 space on the Pet of the Month page. I do NOT want to buy 15 spots during School Safety Week. Do Not tell me EVERYONE listens to your pathetic little radio station. And DO NOT ever, ever say to me, “You mean you don’t want to put your client in front of the 750 attendees of the Cooking School we’re hosting?”
Just because you’re in Hooterville doesn’t mean you have to sell like it.
Nice to see Sesame Street staying current. Never miss a chance to teach a kid something. (VIA & JR!)
Thanks to sullieseverything for this find. Such a sweet spot. I love the British.
I especially enjoyed Dowdy Kitchen Guy. The British Accent makes all of this nothing seems quite important.
For the ultimate Halloween dining table. I like it. Shpookey. VIA
If you’re in advertising, in any size market, you gotta be excited when November 3rd arrives. Political Ad Season is despised by just about everyone I’ve met…in and OUT of the business. The money spent is a testament to the size of the egos and amount of power to be had … no matter what level – even a small town. It makes me sick considering my local women’s shelter has just had to cut two more beds and turn away more women and their kids.
This is the first time in 28 + years we’ve been deluged by politicians. Media buying, copywriting, video shooting, audio taping, meeting, checks flying, e-mailing, phone calling, pre-empting (“You got bumped. Would you let us put you in Monday Night Wrestling?”)…it goes on. While none of the ones we worked with are bad people, I wouldn’t want them as regular clients.
The political marketing process on this level (and maybe others, though I doubt it) is “shoot from the hip, last minute decisions, a large amount of posturing, and waaay too many Indians.” Ya know, guys, if it’s that important, then why didn’t you spend more time planning….it’s not like you didn’t know when it was going to be November 2nd.
We don’t formulate the “message”, we just make it look good. We didn’t have anyone as titillating as Christine O’Donnell, (what an opportunity-this is my FAVORITE one) but we hope our guys win Tuesday. Then we can get back to work.