Our industry had its first of many awards shows last night, and it was nothing short of kick-ass. Upon arrival, you don a plastic nametag. Instead of the traditional and BO-RING work titles, my company decided to go the fun route and give everyone silly "titles" ranging from Resident Bulldog (me, referencing my alma mater) to Twerpz Distributor (Jamie, referencing her favorite tangy candy), to Miss Nebraska (Carey, referencing allegiance to her home state), to Interpretive Dancer (Amy, for no real reason), to Lord High Chancellor (Chris, referencing his ambivalent attitude towards it all), and more like that. It was pretty clear we were there to have fun.
And, to win tons of awards. Let's be honest.
Overall, though, the event itself is sortof calm. There is no red carpet, the podium isn't even on a real stage, you don't give a speech after you win, the crowd is pretty docile, and the awards are just acrylic engraved plaques housed in black boxes. Balloons adorn each table, as do samples and chotchkes from various vendors.
In a city like Chicago where the agency world is dominant, and the business-to-business agency sector is even smaller and more close knit, it is fairly competitive. We have three or four main competitors in this town, and last night we showed them what was what.
We won 26 awards and took home the big prize at the end for Best in Show, meaning, the best work of any submitted. It was awarded to the account that I worked on for all of 2007, and the Creative Director and I dragged each other up there in shock to accept it. We kissed the awards, and even took photos with it in the Getty Images photo booth. Without a speech platform, we didn't get to thank God, our Mama or the little people, but they know who they are, and they know how much they worked to make the magic happen.
As for the crowd, we were the rowdiest, too. Our table quickly became a huge wobbly stack of award boxes, and the OCD personality in me kept stacking and restacking the boxes from biggest to smallest (Gold being the biggest, and those pesky Bronzes as the smallest), and facing all the labels one direction. It was like a giant game of Awards Show Jenga, comprised of the blood, sweat and tears of the creative, strategy and account teams for the last year.
We were boisterous, but the truth is, we weren't a wreck. Only ONE wine glass got shattered (no one was hurt, thank you for asking) and just three chocolate-covered strawberries were harmed in the incident. The Getty Images rep hit on ONLY TWO of my beautiful colleagues, the bartenders poured heavy-handed all night, the band sounded a step above a wedding act, and no one cried. Well, maybe one tear.
To top off the evening, the valet at the afterparty lost my coworker's swanky Mercedes (toting the awards in the trunk) for just an hour and a half. Didn't stop us from creating, and taping to his office door, a "Dude, Where's My Car" movie poster. (It was either that, or we steal his office chair and leave a valet ticket behind. We thought that may be pushing it.)
The entire company chowed on McDonald's greasy breakfast sandwiches this morning in the usual tradition, and are finally through with gloating.
At least until the press release comes out, announcing our domination to the entire industry.
Damn, it feels good to be on top.
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