Two Roads Diverged

With advanced apologies to Robert Frost, I give you this slightly poetic, slightly frenetic explanation of the last few days of my life, regarding the job search.

--
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
[two great job opportunities became offers this week}
And sorry I could not travel both
[one was new consumer experience, one kept me as a B2B marketer]
And be one traveler, long I stood
[trying to make my decision based on my heart and not my bank account]
And looked down one as far as I could
[and called everyone that I trust and consider a career mentor]
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
[to try to see into the short and the long term where I'd most fit.]

Then took the other, as just as fair,
[I read everything about the consumer agency's, history, creative, vision]
And having perhaps the better claim,
[one agency was exposure to new expertise and the other was financial gain]
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
[at an agency that is very conservative, smart and corporate]
Though as for that the passing there
[it was in my B2B comfort zone, but would I grow and learn anything new]
Had worn them really about the same,
[where could I really rise to the challenge and step forward in my career.]

And both that morning equally lay
[talking back and forth to HR and my recruiter]
In leaves no step had trodden black.
[I was a tad bit panicked about having to make a choice]
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
[and I had to keep waiting to find out official offers and situation]
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
[I must follow my gut instinct on where I'd be happy]
I doubted if I should ever come back.
[because this is a commitment for the next phase of my life.]

I shall be telling this with a sigh
[more like the hooray of celebration!]
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
[after three months actively searching for a new job]
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
[I had a decision to make and feel confident that I have done the right thing]
I took the one less traveled by,
[and took a leap into consumer marketing to manage a global brand at a huge agency]
And that has made all the difference.
[and I hope that my heart has led me the right direction!]
--

I will write more about the position I've accepted when all the paperwork is final. It has been a stressful week of self-analysis, introspective thinking, mentorship, waffling, compensation review, gut-check feelings and a lot of discussion.

But, know this - my moaning, groaning and moping about unemployment is officially over. I am thrilled, honored and excited about the next step in my career.

I'm back, people. And I'm terrorizing the respected work of a famed American poet as I go.

Shoe Crazy

Am I a cynic or a realist?

I keep seeing this commercial:



and all I can think of is:

How would I ever end up with matching pairs?

Would they be in my size?

And, wouldn't that dent the car?

This, my friends, is what happens when you're a trained marketer/advertiser with far too much time on your hands.

Someone take the remote away. Now.

Rolling the Dice

In the age of online social networks, online job boards, online recruiting, online job seeker communities and online unemployment filing, I figured I'd resort to the online world once again.

So, here goes. I'm rolling the dice. Being open. Vulnerable. Honest.

I'm still looking for the right job. In this tough economy, bad time of year and holiday season, it has been tough to get interviews, tough to get good leads and even tougher to get calls back. In the rare instance of a successful connection, it is tough to get them to make a decision on a job quickly, even when the candidates are right, ready and anxious to start working.

I have officially sent resumes to, applied for jobs at, interviewed at and made contacts with the following agencies, most to no avail (listed in alphabetical order):

Abelson-Taylor
Anthem
Biersma Creative
Bluedog Design
Corbett
Cramer-Krasselt
Current Lifestyle Marketing
DDB
Design Kitchen
Draftfcb
Egg Strategy
Element 79
Euro RSCG/Euro RSCG Life
Evolution Point
Hoffman York
HSR Business to Business
iCrossing
Interbrand Health
Laughlin Constable
Leo Burnett
MarketSense
Momentum Worldwide
Ogilvy
Point B Communications
Razorfish/Avenue A Communications
Remedy
Rivet
RPM Advertising
S2 Marketing Communications
Schawk
Slack Barshinger
Upshot
Wunderman

Here's what I'm hoping. I am hopeful that one of the hiring managers, talent scouts, or recruiters at one of these agencies will get a Google Alert or a ping that their agency's name was posted here, and will look me up. I'm hoping, dreaming, praying that one of them will contact me and will be interested in talking to me about my experience.

I've got 10 years in this business. Ten years representing clients and managing their accounts. Ten years learning and perfecting integrated marketing communications. Ten years developing brand strategies and plans to invigorate or invent brands. Ten years dealing with the challenges of ROI, media plans, deadlines, flexing budgets, internal marketing groups, external agency partners and vendor contacts.

And, believe it or not, I still love this business.

So, if there was ever a time for me to strike it rich in the employment lottery, the time is now.

Come on, Internet, let's make this happen. If you (yes, you) are reading this and you have a friend, an aunt, a neighbor, a past colleague, a cousin, a lover or a postman who knows someone in this business, please let me know. If you have any "in" at any of the above agencies, now is the time to make the call, send the email or check the Rolodex. I'm begging.

I'm antsy, my condo is spotless, my files are color-coded and organized, my (meager) Christmas shopping is almost complete, and my Tivo has given up on me. I'm running thin on funds and even thinner on patience.

I need a job, and need your help to find it. In fact, I want more than a job, and maybe that's my problem. I want a career step. I still have the optimism and the faith that this search will land me in the right spot, in the right company, working on the right business and making a difference.

Thanks for indulging me. I assure you that if I do find a job, you will be graced with funny stories, life observances and commuting sagas to make the posts I've dedicated to this sorry search worth it!

I have faith, blind or otherwise.

Until then...I do what I've been doing best.

I wait.

Awards Show Jenga

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.

Gotta be Honest

Work just got in the way of any good post today.

My brain is zapped completely dry in advance of tomorrow's big new business pitch. My eye makeup is smudged to all hell, my really cute outfit is no longer even attractive, and my stomach is growling so loudly that I can barely hear my iTunes. It didn't help that I wore fancy high heels today and my feet hurt from about the knee down. I am pretty sure that I no longer have a bloodstream. My body is working strictly off of coffee and Dr. Pepper.

Admit it. You're humming the tune to "Nine to Five" now, aren't you? Go with Dolly, and enjoy your night. I'll toast to that.

I'm going home to faceplant in some Shiraz. If only we had THAT in the free vending machine.

Wires vs. Boxes

As a young(ish) woman, I have spent the last decade, admittedly, trying to figure out men. As my girlfriends and I can attest, they are simple creatures whose actions and words often betray the layers of complexity that may be found within.

That is, I thought that until I discovered, through a blossoming and very healthy relationship, that men are actually pretty simple through and through. As Seinfeld once said, "When a woman asks a guy what he's thinking, and he replies, 'nothing,' it's true. We're actually not thinking about anything." This theory is seconded by the recent "nothing box" discussions seen in this funny (and true) video.

The subject is the difference of how men and women's brains are wired. Men are more simple, according to the speaker, Mark Gungor. Women's brains, which will come as no surprise to anyone who is a woman or has ever known one, are connected like a superspeed highway with many twists, turns, overlaps, interconnections and jumbles of wires. A topic, to a woman, is never a singular one. It is attached to everything else in the brain.

For example, when a man mentions a party to a woman, she isn't just processing the invitation, she's thinking about what she'll wear, who will be there, if they'll accept her into the group, how she would feel if they didn't, what she needs to do in order to get ready for the event, what she may be missing out on if she does attend, and how the man in question will respond to all of the above. Because she'll undoubtedly share most of these intersecting thoughts with him, much to his dismay and/or confusion. To him, it was just an invitation to a party.

Men's brains, to the opposite, are organized into boxes. There is the Sports Box, the Food Box, the Sex Box, the Work Box, the Friend Box, the Family Box, the Beer Box, the News Box, the TV Box, the Weekend Box and the Girlfriend/Wife box. Hidden way back beneath all of the other boxes are the unsightly In-laws Box, the Ex Box, and the Exercise Box. When a topic comes up, a man's brain goes to the box in question, accesses the information necessary to compute the response, and then puts it back away, being careful not to touch, open or disturb any of the other boxes. It's like a well-organized garage, albeit with a little dust and a few random "collectibles."

And, finally, there is the "Nothing Box." This is the one that when a man is sitting still, walking down the street or watching TV, he accesses. This results in absolute nothingness. No thoughts, no activities, no obsessions, and no required response. When a woman asks him what he's thinking while this box is engaged, his honest reply is, "nothing."

This isn't to say that men are less intelligent, or less engaged in everyday life, it is just an assessment on how men like things to be. Simple. Why confuse things if they are better left alone? Why add complexities where one simple answer/activity is enough?

I think this theory of men's simplicity is best exemplified, of late, by the recent commerical for the new product, the Old Spice Hair & Body Wash. View it below if you haven't had the privilege to see it on TV just yet.


Because it would just be TOO MUCH TROUBLE to use two separate products. One for your hair and one for your body. I mean, come on. Men just want things to be easy. Give me a product, that I can buy for under four dollars at CVS, that I can open in the shower, rub all over my body AND my head, and then I'm finished. Hand me a towel and I'm ready to go. I am guessing this product can be found in the very small, rarely considered "Grooming Box."

Unlike the female wires of makeup, body image, salons, shopping, hair products, cosmetic surgeries, figure flattery, and other more complex, and misunderstood interconnected issues, the Grooming Box has two things inside. A razor, and this lovely Old Spice product. [Warning: Blanket Generalization Alert—this excludes many metrosexuals and most gay men. I'm certain, to their credit, that their Grooming Box is easily accessible, fully-packed with the latest products, tips and salons. Come on, they just smell too good for this not to be true.]

At least then there's no mildewing, hairy, slimy soap to drop in the shower. Because the "Cleaning Box," which includes scrubbing the bathroom, rarely sees the light of day. It is placed WAY back in the brain, just to the left of the "Anniversaries & Birthdays Box."

It's simple, right?

It's in the Bag

I left the office late tonight, carrying the agency's big black leather portfolio, and waited for what felt like forever for the bus. In between my office building and my front door, three different people asked me about the big case.

One older lady eyed the bag, and loudly commented, "I would love to see what's in THAT bag!" like I was in a gameshow, and was carrying around the silver metal case with her ticket to millions inside. I'll chalk her up to just being confused. I doubt she really meant that she'd love to see my new business presentation as we stood underneath the bus shelter.

When I got onto the bus, and wedged the large case as close to my knees as I could, the bus filled up, and a thirty-something girl leaned over me and said, "So, they're making YOU drag the pitch boards?" and I just laughed out loud, and nodded. How'd she know?!? Was my exhaustion written all over my face? Was it the mid-week jeans? Or was my business card hanging out of my purse?

As I got off the bus, a guy was walking towards my building alongside me, and he glanced at the bag, then at me, and snidely says, not quite under his breath, "ooooh, you must be in advertising..." like it was the same thing as saying, "ooooh, you must kick small puppies and push children down the stairs."

Uh, yeah.

We in "the agency biz" have one heck of a reputation, don't we? Granted, I own a Tivo, too, but enjoy a good giggle inspired by clever writing, compelling images, smart commercials and other products of my industry.

And, yes, I'm the pitch board mule.

But as I travel north to Newark (eek) tomorrow to nail this pitch, I'll have on a killer suit and a power pair of heels.

All the better to kick puppies with, my dear.