Too old for advertising? Too bad.

The advertising business is turning into one of those cheesy nightclubs filled with people over 40 wearing Ed Hardy shirts while coating their few remaining strands of hair with Just For Men.

We work in a business where people get tattoos, pierce their tongues and blabber about their new phone apps in an effort to sound so cutting-edge they must be good at their jobs. You can read all about it in this Advertising Age article about Dave Shea—some poor 55 year-old man who can’t find a job because he’s too old (boo-fucking-hoo).

Or this one that tells older ad people how to find work. BTW, if any of that advice is news to you, you’re a fucking idiot. Retire now.

I’m writing this at the ripe old age of 41 and I promise you this: That will not be me. I’ve been doing this shit for 13 years. I’ve always been the wrong age, wrong background, wrong level, wrong gender or had the wrong amount of tattoos to be relevant for whatever jobs were available. And, you know what? I’m still here. I’ve had 8 jobs in those 13 years. I’ve been fired/laid-off/shit-on by some of the stupidest people in the business and I’m still here.

And when I turn 55, I will still be here. I’ll still be doing the ads (or whatever the fuck they call this shit in 14 years) that make the 18-34 year olds spend their disposable incomes. And, there will still be recruiters who hire the safe creatives with 3-5 years experience. Yes, they will still be here too.

I have a message to all those recruiters: You don’t need to be young to sell to the young. You don’t need to be a woman to sell to the women. You don’t need a nose piercing to sell to the cool.

You just need to be good at your job.

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I apologize for being happy

Another reason I’ve quit blogging is because I’m happy. For the first time in a long time I don’t have a bug up my ass about something. For the first time in a long time my career is headed in the right direction. My clients are happy. My boss is happy. I’m happy. I also live on a beach in Florida where the weather is in the low 70s and it’s almost January. So, I’m happy.

This blog was an outlet for my rage. My therapist. Good job, therapist. Because, I’m happy. But, to my 3 followers out there, do not worry. This happiness will not last. Life is just setting me up for the next big kick in the balls. In fact, I’ve been happy for almost a year now. So, any day, my shit is going to fall apart. I think I’m ready. I’m not used to being this happy. Feels weird not cursing all the time.

So, I am going to enjoy my happiness run while it lasts. But, I know the misery is out there waiting for me.

Bring it. And upon it’s arrival, I will greet it with the Morpheus speech from Matrix Reloaded.

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My fellow Americans, get off your ass.

If I were president, here’s how I would address the nation:

My fellow Americans, get off your ass. OK, not all of you, Just that 9.2 % who haven’t been able to find a job since 2007. The other 90.8% of us have managed to keep working and we’re sick of hearing you bitch. Subway is hiring. So is McDonald’s. What’s that? You’re too proud? To quote Marcellus Wallace, “Fuck pride. Pride only hurts, it never helps.”

To the Afghan people, get off your ass and defend yourself. We’re getting the fuck out because I’m not even sure why the hell we’re over there.

To the rest of the Middle East, calm your ass down. Quit taking religion so seriously. Learn from us Americans. We only pray when our favorite football team needs to kick a field goal and there’s less than 2 minutes on the clock.

To the friends of Ryan Dunn, Roger Ebert was right. Ryan was driving 140 mph. If you’re going to drive drunk, go the speed limit and drive extra paranoid like everybody else.

To the environment, get off your ass. Defend yourself like the planet Pandora did in Avatar. Polar bears, if you see someone who doesn’t recycle—kill the motherfucker. When humans kill people it’s called murder. When bears kill people it’s called nature.

To the journalists, get off your ass. Quit giving so much coverage to Casey Anthony. Face it, the only reason we care is because she’s kind of hot. In fact, every time a cute, white girl goes missing—it gets national headlines. Ugly people who aren’t white go missing too. WTF?

To the gays, get off your ass (no, I’m not going to make a homophobic joke/pun here). If you want to get married, move to Connecticut, Iowa, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont or Washington D.C. Or, you may have to wait until my second term. To quote my 12th favorite 80s hair band, White Lion, “Love don’t come easy.”

To those who think marriage should be between a man and a woman, nobody gives a shit what you think.

In closing, get off your ass and quit bitching about me. We cool?

Good night and God Bless America—you lazy motherfuckers.

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Sick of Myself

I haven’t been blogging much lately because I’m sick of myself. If you’ve read a few of my posts you know it’s all the same shit. I pretend to be smarter than everyone else with some stupid lesson and I usually throw in a pop culture reference to get more random search traffic on my site. If I’m sick of it, there’s a good chance the readers are too.

I’m kind of sick of everyone else’s blog. I’m unsubscribing myself from them all. Even though they’re all good. I’ve been following Seth Godin’s blog for almost 3 years. He was sort of the inspiration behind my blog. When I first subscribed, I thought that if I got one tidbit from one of the smartest marketing guys everyday, I’d be kicking some major marketing ass right now.

Don’t get me wrong. These blog entries I speak of are all interesting and make good points. Just not sure if they’re helpful.

I’m kind of sick of my facebook life too. My updates are all the same shit. Now I just post pictures and look at everyone else’s pictures. Other people’s updates are getting stale. Especially stuff like, “Went to Starbucks, watched a movie, dinner at Outback with a good friend—priceless.” I think I fell asleep after the 20th character.

Facebook and Twitter will always listen to what you have to say because they don’t have a choice.

By the way, posting pictures of you and your drunk friends at the beach is better than posting pictures of food you’ve cooked. I’m not ripping social media. Just my social media. Even writing this post is pretty painful.

Funny thing—of all my posts, the one that got the most traffic is the one where I discussed my layoff. Another highly viewed post was the one about Nickelback (I still hate them) and  Bud Light Orange—probably because there’s a lot of demand for an orange flavored beer. The one’s where I subtly rip those who’ve wronged me in the advertising business do well too. Lesson learned: Posts about misery, revenge and crappy bands get lots of attention.

This is my 88th blog post. I know, I should keep going until I reach 100. I don’t think I can. I need to reboot. Not sure how. Until then, I probably won’t be blogging. Maybe just now and then.

Thanks for stopping by. And thanks to Creative Movers. They’re an advertising recruiting service and these posts also contribute to their blog that features all kinds of different ad people. It’s great stuff. Please check it out.

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Marketing research is boring and useless

Next time you’re in a presentation and someone says “Our research has shown….”

Look around the room. Notice the eyes glazing over or the people checking their phones or the ones who just leave. Someone is about to bore the crap out of you with useless facts and statistics meant only to comfort the low man on the totem pole.

 

Research is useless once you’ve realized that all people are all pretty much the same.

To quote Whitesnake, “We may be human, but we’re still animals.”

Below are the most conclusive findings about mainstream consumers that you will ever need:

We all want to spend more money while making more money and saving more money to spend later—all in that order.

We all want to eat more food that tastes good while losing weight.

We all want to be loved by others. Do we want to love others? Sometimes.

We all want bigger homes in nice neighborhoods with cool stuff to show our friends. After our friends have seen our stuff, we want them to leave.

We all want cars with more room that take up less space and use less gas while still being considered stylish.

We want bigger boners, bigger boobs and babies.

We want to look more attractive to attract other attractive people to impress the ones we don’t care about.

Did I leave anything out?

As soon as you realize that most of humanity is made up of selfish assholes, it’s much easier to understand them and sell them shit they don’t need.

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A big F U to the server

-Could you e-mail that to me?

-Oh, it’s on the server. Great.

-I looked on the server, it’s not there.

-Why would it be in the accounting folder?

-Ok, I’m looking in accounting and I still can’t find it.

-Ok, I’ve found it, but it won’t open.

-I put it on the server. What’s the difference? Then no, I didn’t save it to the server.

-Sorry.

-Because you didn’t tell me to save it.

-Use Time Machine.

-No, I don’t know how it works.

-Yes, I put it on the server.

-It opened on my computer.

-I don’t know, try opening it in Preview.

-No, I’m a writer. I don’t go near anything Adobe.

-The server’s down?

-Sucks to be you.

-The internet’s not down, right?

-Then  calm down.

-I just choose not to believe in the server.

-It’s like a big garbage can. We put shit in there that we never want to deal with again—in a very organized way.

-Is the server up yet?

-Then e-mail it to me.

-Please don’t show me how to use the server again.

-Fuck you, server.

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Please offend me.

Please offend me. Or at least try. I’ve lived my whole life without ever being offended. Being offended takes time and energy that I’d rather focus somewhere else.

Which brings me to those Groupon ads. I wasn’t offended by them. They didn’t really say anything bad about Tibet or whales or rain forests. Actually, they might have. I didn’t really get them. Here’s a representation of my brain activity while watching them during the Super Bowl:

-“God, I hate watching football. It’s 4 hours of people standing around and dropping stuff and 10 minutes of people doing something right. Oh good, here’s some commercials. I wish everybody in the bar would shut up so I could hear them. The bartender is cute. I think she likes me. Look, an ad with Timothy Hutton. What has he done since Taps? He must be hurting if he’s doing commercials. What? I need to bring 200 people to a Curry restaurant to save money and what’s going on with Tibet? Ponzi scheme? I think I’ll quit giving a shit now. More beer. I have to pee again.”

The next day, people were making a big deal about them on the Today show because someone got offended.

My Mom didn’t know what a Groupon was before the Super Bowl. I bet she does now. I think their plan worked even though the ads were kind of lame.

Groupon is kind of lame too. I’ve been a subscriber for a while. I’ve never purchased. I’m sure if I used a Groupon, the cashier wouldn’t know what to do with it and would have to get the manager to come up front while a long line of people formed behind me all thinking I’m some kind of asshole for being “that guy who uses Groupon.”

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