Before Hallmark, I spent five years in advertising, working at three agencies.
Fresh out of college, I was starry-eyed and over-confident, convinced I’d soon be crafting the next "Just Do It. "
Instead, I was met with the harsh reality that for every splashy Absolut billboard, there were a million brochures and bill stuffers to be written. My first-ever assignment was a trade ad for blowtorches. Madison Avenue wasn’t ready for me!
I learned that sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to in exchange for a paycheck and benefits, a developmental stage scientists call “growing the fuck up.”
Here’s what else I learned:
1. Input is necessary and nothing to be ashamed of.
My morning routine at one agency was to grab a cup of coffee in the kitchen, then flip through the newspaper, always neatly displayed on the island. One day, the president came in, saw me, and barked "$95 an hour!" I was to get back to my desk. He was not widely known to be supportive, but admonishing a writer for trying to keep up on current events? I have no words for how idiotic this is.
Half of writing is reading. Maybe more. Good employers know this—Hallmark supplied us with an in-house library and ordered just about any book we asked for. And in return, they got stellar creative out of us. The National Enquirer came right to our department mailbox! It was heaven.
2. Your time is extremely valuable.
See #1. $95 an hour! That’s what they charged for me, a writer with two years’ experience. Meanwhile, they were paying me somewhere around $13 an hour. I didn’t question it then. I was happy to be employed.
Now, I tend to think we should all be charging more, and saying no to anyone who doesn’t value what we bring. My fear of angering people causes me to struggle with this, but I try to remember what someone successfully charged for me in 1998. A few decades later, and with a lot more experience under my belt, I need to be bolder.
3. Don’t let initial reactions get to you.
One boss, a creative director, took a while to get used to. No matter how energetically you pitched an idea to her, she’d sit silently, zero emotion on her face. I twisted myself into knots trying to get a reaction out of her. Once—once—she said, "that’s funny" without even a hint of a smile. I walked on air for days.
She was a fantastic boss and often gave positive feedback—later. I had to learn that some people need more time to process. That a lack of immediate enthusiasm doesn’t always translate to someone not liking your work.
I learned this again recently in a workshop I taught, when one woman sat at the back and scowled the entire time. I left deflated, sure she hated it, until she emailed me a few days later to say otherwise. Some people frown when they think. It’s as simple as that.
4. You will encounter shameless copiers. Mind your business and keep moving.
Another boss was creepy, nosy, and oozed unearned confidence. He liked to sneak up and whisper-yell "WHATAREYOUDOING?" over my shoulder. (He also had a triangle of grease on his chair where he’d wipe his hands between his legs while eating bag after bag from the free popcorn machine. A class act!)
Once, he caught me not actively working and admonished me: "If you have free time, you need to be studying the award books." Fine. Fair. So I set about reading all the publications they kept around, showcasing award-winning ads from around the world.
Soon after, we had a call scheduled with a client in which we’d be presenting radio scripts. In preparation, he gave me a copy of the one he’d written. While reading it in my cubicle, I gasped so loud, he rushed into my office, red-faced and stuttering. I cut him off: "You copied this word for word."
Indeed, he’d copied one of the award-winning scripts, changing out the client for ours. I guess he hadn’t counted on me reading all of the books. I was shocked and angry, but still too young and scared to do anything about it. I didn’t have to; in short succession, the client picked my script, I got reassigned to a different group—with a better, less-greasy creative director—and was promoted to an office with a door.
It’s wild how often this happens. I’ve seen it everywhere I’ve worked. It’s hard to witness, but getting worked up because someone else doesn’t follow the rules won’t do you any good. Their reputations will take the hit, anyway. Better to stay focused on what you can control: your own work.
5. Too much feedback can kill you.
One of my biggest clients was Sprint (now T-Mobile), who had a dangerously big marketing department. Everything I wrote went through the creative director and account service team at our agency—standard practice—but then it went to the client, where three, sometimes four, people wrote all over the document.
Nothing sends you into “fuck this” mode faster than too many opinions. The cliché is true: everyone needs to pee on the tree. Which takes the wind out of your sails fast. Yes, I’m mixing metaphors! Do you want pee splattering off your sails? I didn’t think so.
Back then, I had no control over how many people weighed in. Now, I do: I try to stay at one trusted urinator, max. While my first inclination is to ask everyone I know to look at something, I’m working hard at trusting myself. Feedback is important, but not at the expense of your enthusiasm.
6. Pick your battles, pick your battles, pick your battles.
Being creative takes a lot of energy. So does being an asshole. It’s almost impossible to do both. I shudder to remember my ad days: I was immature and let everything get to me. You want me to change the punctuation in a sentence?! I took (and barely passed) a Shakespeare class! How dare you.
I don’t have this mastered by any means—I’m still smarting after a client changed a word in a tagline, despite my objections—but I’m working on it. Now, I know that getting over the little stuff means I’ll have more energy to put into the big stuff. As my award-winning version would’ve said:
📥 Input! 📥
• Like stories about writers on the edge? Have I got a movie and then also another movie for you
• A helpful translation (thanks, Emily!)
• Sheila E disrespect aside, this made the 80s child in me so happy
• Just started this sweet little show
• Gobbled up this delightfully weird book by the creator of Tuca & Bertie and Bojack Horseman (thanks, Sarah!)
• Checked off these greats: #183 Brown Sugar, D’Angelo; #179 Life After Death, Notorious B.I.G.; #111 Control, Janet Jackson
• I dare you not to be moved by this
story about a creative ninja doing good• Finally:
loved the post this week! as a non-creative physical therapist I love to hear your stories and work to challenge myself to read more, watch more, and do more of these things
sadly the fatigue tends to win most nights, but I endeavor to keep trying!
Thanks for the inspiration!
Um, excuse me... you forgot to mention how immensely valuable your Cracker Jack (or, more accurately, Hot Tamale, popcorn and Slimfast) account teams were to your success! Or, at the very least, excellent fodder for your therapy sessions.