AdFic: A Good Day Pt. 2

“Our creative execution isn’t synergizing with our strategy.”

I bite my tongue, because he's right. Strategy and Creative here never speak to each other. As the Creative Director, I should probably do something about that. Maybe next week. Or next century. Whichever comes last.

To be honest, I was just trying to finish the stupid presentation before the end of day. I needed to meet my wife at Yoga. Or so went the story I cooked up. Copywriters tell the most delicious lies. I don’t even have a dog.

9PM. The review isn't going well. Account's not happy. Neither is my wife, or my Yoga instructor. Theoretically. You have to keep your stories straight. Show conviction. That's what you learn in Ad School. I studied Engineering. 

I only started working once everyone left at 6PM. There's poetry in burning the midnight oil. I mean drinking the single malt in my art partner's drawer. Creativity needs silence. Or chaos. Both. Neither.  As a writer, you say things like this to aid procrastination. It's all part of the process. Another thing we say. 

I'd invested in noise cancelling earbuds. Sometimes I wear them without music to avoid conversations. Most problems solve themselves when you pretend you can't hear them. 

Back to the review. I get sidetracked easily. That’s what I told HR after the whiteboard incident.

"Can we push the presentation?" I ask. Hope is the last refuge of the chronically underprepared. 

"We've already pushed the presentation." Account replies. He lost hope long ago. 

"But I was briefed yesterday." A slight exaggeration. I was CC'ed on an email 2 weeks ago. 

"The client sent the brief 2 weeks ago."

Awkward silence.

"Have you tried Yoga?" I blurt out. 

Everyone stares. Account doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. 

So I laugh. Then everyone else laughs. I quietly wonder what I'll have to do to get fired. But the damage is done. For the rest of the meeting, every tense moment is punctuated by someone whispering "Have you tried Yoga?" It becomes our inside joke. 

9:53PM. The meeting breaks, I sit with my laptop where my boss sits. I hope that the change in scenery will knock something loose. The chair is comfortable. Too comfortable. I scroll Instagram for the fifteenth time.

10:45PM. I do a lap around the office, nodding at the surviving writers. "Making progress?" They nod back. We're all in on this charade. 

11:30 PM. The caffeine stops working, so I turn to panic. Finally start work on my part of the presentation. The burdens of leadership. Which means pretending to look busy while everyone else works.

12:45AM. Done. It's brilliant. Or nonsense. I can't tell which. I email it to 15 people, upper management included. I'm dedicated and diligent.

2AM. At home, existential dread. Am I really just pretending to work, or am I actually working at pretending? The line blurs. Maybe we'll do some real work tomorrow. Or the day after. Or never. Who's counting? 

I drift off. It was a good day, even if I never went to Yoga.