A blog started by a Brit who claims that he is the CMO “of a big company. I can’t say who. But if I say we’re number 2 in the European consumer durables market relating to, or directly involving, cleaning clothes and or soft furnishings and or other fabrics, with a commitment to excellence, quality and placing superior cleaning at the core of our customers’ product experience, I think you’ll suss. Yes – that’s us!”
The blog is mostly written to and about ad agencies, letting them know the realities of how he, as a senior marketing guy thinks. The language he uses would’ve made Sam Kinison blush, which after some debate, I’ve decided to let stand. Here are a few of his insights into the workings of the ad biz:The presentationsI’ve admitted several times that planners and their powerpoint slides turn my mind into bum-gravy, but they’re by no means alone. Over the years, agencies have made many and varied attempts to present me into my fucking grave.On one occasion, an agency MD gave me 30 slides on the agency’s long and celebrated history, the account director gave me 40 slides on their ‘brand eruption methodology’, a planner gave me the usual 50 slides on whatever the fuck it is they do and the media buyer gave me 60 slides on audience segmentation, reach, ‘the media day’ and his manifesto on ‘owning the media worldscape’.Then the creative director showed me a half-page ad, a flyer and an insert for the Northampton cunting Trumpet.
The agency barista
I am a prolific consumer of coffee (especially in the morning, when I like to make a smoothie with coffee, bacon, fried bread, black pudding, eggs, ham, lamb tikka bhuna and sausages) but even I can’t fathom why agencies need a fully-fledged coffee emporium inside their building. Some of you agency hamshanks even have some desperate intern as a barista, making little ferns in the milk of your skinny latte while he dreams of being allowed to blow the creative director’s assistant’s dog-walker’s fucking builder.
Do you know how many coffee shops there are in Soho? Exactly 7,434. There are branches of Starbucks in supermarkets, petrol stations, funeral parlours, strip joints, municipal dumps, drains, the trousers of people who stand still too long – you fucking name it. I came down to my car one morning and there was one in the fucking boot! There’s more coffee than rain in Britain! Just go out and get some! The names It used to be Surname & Surname. Then Surname would get a call from this other Surname – and his very good friend, Surname. They’d do some lunching and, a bit later, merge into Surname, Surname, Surname & Surname. Then Surname would leave, but Acronym & Surname would come along – creating Acronym, Surname, Surname & Surname. By this time, agencies had rebelled against that old-fashioned naming protocol and were going for Dark & Esoteric or Edgy & Cool. So when Acronym, Surname, Surname & Surname acquired an up-and-coming agency to compensate for fact that they’d grown too rich to be bothered, they became Acronym, Surname, Surname & Surname / Edgy & Cool. Now, agencies are called things like UnCulture or MeLikeYouLikeHappyTime, and I honestly can’t decide which is fucking worse. The industry-wide self-delusion that they aren’t salespeople. Come on, folks. Let’s the two of us have a heart-to-heart here. Nobody else – just us. Let me be honest, because I like you / you buy me beerz. The only difference between you and a car salesman is an ironic T-shirt. The constant fucking ‘offerings’. What is it with you fucking people? Why does everything you do have to have a name? Why do you have to call two account executives trawling the internet for second hand research ‘The Truth Laboratories’? Why is your planning department ‘The Disrupterference Unit’? And why must you have a fucking ‘system’? Because whether you call it ’360 Insightification’, ‘Mirage-Busting’ or ‘Gorgeouslogicmakesideasgrow’, I know that your ‘offering’ involves an account man giving a brief to some one-time film-makers/novelists who will do everything they can to produce work that turns them back into film-makers/novelists. And you know it too, you fucking con artists. The flaunting. I walk into my agency. The sofas are beautiful. The reception desk is like something from a spaceship. The flooring has the reassuring feel of real wood. The sculpted fittings and furniture are sleek and beautiful. There are grand plasma screens, a stunning sculpture and, for real impact, one of the Minis from The Italian Job. THAT’S MY FUCKING FEE, YOU CUNT-FORKS! Jesus wept. It’s like a mugger popping round the next day to show you what he spent your cash on. ‘Look, I got this nice watch – and I sold your phone for this jacket. Fucking nice, eh? Same time tomorrow, you fucking twonk?’
He ends every post with “Why? Because I AM THE CLIENT!“
Posted via email from Flatacre
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