Fade up to brightly lit emergency room, doctors and nurses scampering feverishly.
DOC IN CHARGE (shouting): “Look alive, people, we’ve got a crushed soul here! Caucasian male, late 30s, history of autoimmune disease, long career in advertising. Went to Client side, and 10 months later suffering from severe damage to creative soul. Get the adrenaline and a good freelance client, STAT!”
Yep, that’s what’s going on. So few opportunities to do any real advertising-y projects, and the handful that do come down the pike are either pointless or destined for a group-killing the likes of which we haven’t seen since Julius Caesar.
I get up each day and head to work with a smile, safe in the knowledge that I probably have a job when I arrive at the office. But the actual work? Killing me slowly.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a creative dynamo like Alex Bogusky (like it or not, people, he’s a legend). I haven’t made a mark like a Wieden or Kennedy or Goodby or Silverstein or DDB or BBDO or ODB. (Much love and props if you get that last joke.)
But I truly feel like I have something to contribute. A passion and creativity that’s going to waste in my downtown cube with the 4-foot-high walls.
What do I want to do? Honestly, I want to put my experience and above-average creative skillz to work for small- and medium-sized businesses. I want to be able to say that I’m making a difference and helping people by working with entrepreneurs to improve their bottom line.
What don’t I want to do? Wait much longer to get cracking. However, family responsibilities are too important right now, so I “suck it up.”
What keeps me going? The knowledge — not just the “dream,” but the actual certainty — that I WILL be doing what I want to do, someday soon. In the meantime...
DOC IN CHARGE (tired but still yelling): OK, team, he’s stable. Great work everybody...just keep an eye on this guy. We don’t want him slipping away.
DOC clips page titled “Creative Brief from Awesome Client” to Patient’s chart.
SFX: Somewhat weak beeps from machine get stronger and maintain steady rhythm.
Slow zoom up to Patient’s face, where small smile crosses his face. Pan over to Patient’s hand, which reaches for a pen and pad.
Fade to black. (For now.)
After a year of creative incarceration in Corporate World, your beloved Corporate Hack finally distracted the guards, outran the bloodhounds and scaled the wall to make his escape. Now that he’s back where he belongs in Ad World, he’s re-branded himself as The Inside Man...but he’s still having Ad-Verse Reactions.