Pity advertising’s poor employed.
For they must endure the awkward goodbyes,
Uncomfortable elevator rides
And not-so-happy hours
With this quarter’s box-packers.
They climb a crumbling ladder.
And march to the beat of a company drum.
“Do this time sheet. Write that brief. Increase that point size.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
They bang more gangs, miss more birthdays, and take home smaller paychecks.
They sacrifice Shutters On The Beach for Viceroy On The Avenue.
So they can do worse work.
Clutching tight the memories of better days.
When employees were assets, not expenses.
Ideas were solutions, not risks.
And agencies were partners, not vendors.
They are contestants in another bonus round of Agency Survivor
Where they get to live another quarter.
Fighting off the smugness of invincibility.
And, when the sickle swings again,
The vulnerability of panic.
They must suffer the indignity of morning alarm clocks.
For they know not the thrill of waking unaided
To the anxiety of next month’s mortgage payment.
By Erik Proulx - an ACD/Copywriter posted on Pleasefeedtheanimals. It's a blog for the recently unemployed adveritising professional. I haven't gotten a chance to look around much, but from a first glance the site looks promising.