Posts Tagged ‘Sofa Gonk’

Yesterday, my meeting started at 10am and finished at 5.50pm.

I am tempted to leave that as the sum total of this entry, as I feel convinced that right-thinking people everywhere will know what that means, and the expressions of condolence will start flooding in. But I never could leave well enough alone, so I feel compelled to comment and gloss.

How the frigging, arsing fuck is anyone supposed to be effective over the course of that time of time span? We remained constant, but an ever-changing litany of Clients came in for creative presentations (admittedly with a different group of creatives every time) as Sofa Gonk, Fembot and I reviewed work on five brands. The saving grace was that all the work was magnificent, with one idea that is (if we make it) being the best piece of work I’ll have done in my career (which is a scary, depressing and exhilirating thought).

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Saturday, 2nd February 2008

The office move has gone well. For me.

I now have a bigger, lighter, quieter office on the corner of the building. I am next to American Diva friend (“Would you like a GREEN TEA?” – something she says with semi-incredulity, as if she’s found herself offering me a goblet of Hobbit’s blood) and Fearless Leader (whose voice is better suited to carrying over windswept moors and fields than it is to having conversations in an office).

The bookcase, long-term readers of this blog will be delighted to hear, is sited in such a position as to have caused no involvement from the global CEO as to its placement, and the arrayed Fiona Shaw memorabilia have been interspersed with enough other bits of memorabilia, photography, postcards and posters to prevent my office from looking like a pagan shrine. And more like a student’s bedroom. A RADA student’s bedroom…

Outside, Magnificent P.A. sits next to the Nespresso machine that is shared by her, Fearless Leader and myself, keeping watch like Cerberus.

However, for some, the move hasn’t gone quite so well. The London office has decided that it wants to sit together on one huge floor (previously, the departments were arranged on different levels) and as a result, lots of people who were in offices, are now open plan.

Now, call me a status-conscious, posturing little monkey fucker if you like (and if you have the time and inclination, of course), but I would not work anywhere without my own office ever again. I just can’t concentrate. So I am full of sympathy for Old Friend at Work, Doom-saying Northern Planner With Hosiery Compulsion and Energetic Account Guy, all of whom have fallen down the hierarchy and find themselves sitting in what looks like a funky telephone exchange.

Well, I WOULD have sympathy, if Energetic Account Guy hadn’t decided that in the absence of his having an office, he would simply move into mine. FUCKING HELL! I may as well get bunk beds and have done with it. At the slightest pretext, there will be an e-mail, or a call ending in “I’ll pop up!” and before I can think of an excuse (“On a call”, “finishing a document”, “Cholera pandemic”), there he is, sliding the glass door open and ferreting in, bounding over to the sofa where he will stay through any amount of dissuasion and (frankly rude) display of indifference to his presence until he needs to pop off for a shit.

I think this is due in large part to the fact that it must be hard to move from the solitariness of an office to the hum of open-plan and all the exposure that brings, but isn’t that why God invented Starbucks? I also think there is a psychological association with glass walls and doors: if people can see you inside, they feel that you are available for interruption. So: a re-brief with Magnificent P.A. has occurred and she is going to be showing a lot more of her unpleasant side in a bid to leave me undisturbed by the Client Services answer to “The Magic Roundabout” ‘s Zebedee…

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Sofa Gonk

Saturday, 9th February 2008

Energetic Account Guy has been re-Christened “Sofa Gonk”.

He is now a permanent fixture on the sofa in my office, and I’m trying to find ways of working around that. Well, I may have found a way: it’s a printed sign that says “Please Go Away” taped to my door. I flirted with not putting “Please” on the notice, but I ended up with the hugely polite version.

Only time will tell if it works.

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Saturday, 29th March 2008

Well, obviously I have changed my mind entirely about the whole pitch thing: it is now the air that I breath, the wine that I drink, the sun that warms me. It’s The National Gallery, it’s Garbo’s salary, it’s Cellophane.

As ever with me, this startling volte-face is due entirely to the fact that I’ve just had a very good experience: Impossibly Chic Creative Director, Not Gay Gay Lucifer Creative Director, Sofa Gonk and I did the final stage (Creative, PR, Events) of The Big Pitch yesterday – and knocked it out of the park..

I knew it was going to go well. because when I reviewed the work, I got tears in my eyes: I was so relieved and so impressed that they had done brilliant work that NAILED the strategy. And the Client had the same reaction. They had seen the incumbent (established but floundering agency) that morning, and the other contender (good pitch performance with very poor creative agency) and it was apparent that what we had done was the answer to their prayers: because they said as much.

We now have to prepare the stimulus for research in Russia, France and Mexico (in which Wife and Daughter are going to appear!) and we should know within two weeks if we have, in fact, won it. I am not a natural optimist (though I am a natural enthusiast) but I would be staggered if we don’t win this, and thereby transform the fortunes of the agency. Again.

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