I used to bartend at a hotel where PR/ad types would come to chill and host their functions. I could never figure out why they loved the place, but they did.
They were also-- each and every one, especially the bright-eyed twentysomething females-- completely revolting. Like, I hated them more than I hate dudes who clip their fingernails on the train.
I think we saw something familiar in each other, though. They're generally creative types, and I guess they feared wasting their twenties in the service industry while trying to 'make it.' I, on the other hand, abhor the idea of getting up before ten, putting on uncomfortable clothes, and taking a pay cut just so my mom feels like college wasn't a waste of time and money.
Working for an agency, you'll never be loved by anyone except your client (and then only if you do good work). But you can avoid being despised by not lying and not selling evil products.
@BadUncle: Clients don't 'love' ad agencies...If you work for an ad agency, your client wants you doing the impossible for a pittance, and will toss you aside in a heartbeat for another agency that does good work and charges slightly less.
I met a PR person at a conference over the weekend. She seemed like a very nice person, but something about the whole business comes across as unseemly. Like you're selling yourself for money. There's some other occupation like that, I can't quite think of it...
i don't know a single non-manager who works in these fields who qualifies as "well-paid". i can name a couple writers, for example, who are better off so whatever. there's a billion and one reason to hate flacks and salespeople, trust me because i have to deal with them all fucking day. but i ain't fooling myself that they are getting paid better than i am.
i've always experienced a certain amount of cognitive knowing that by pursuing a career somewhere on the p.r./advertising/marketing continuum, i would be entering an industry highly invested in manipulation and steeped in double-speak.
i never realized the answer to my concerns was more bullshit.
I caught one of them demographics of "mean income of $114 mil per." They were standing at a light ... which meant another city another time. There were three prosperous bankers and a couple of guys who wait at Home Depot for odd jobbs.
My suspension of disbelief was o.k. with S.A.T.C. for the most part...but the fact that she worked at a WEEKLY newspaper? Every time that was mentioned my head would invariably just start to shake back and forth. "No."
Um. Don't ignore the fact that SATC dealt with Carrie's financial woes! Two words for you: Charlotte's ring. It's the reason why I hang around my wealthy puritanical divorced brunette friends while they go about their voluntary gallery jobs.
Okay, but um? Hamilton? You're not working at a magazine. You're working at the epicenter of the medium that is gleefully slobbering over the impending death of print.
Smithhimself's life IS quite glamorous. Long drunken lunches with writers that adore his salty wit, then staggering back to the office where sharp-as-a-whip Ivy League interns and junior editors have already done the heavy lifting.
Dinner tonight at the Waverly, more alcohol and then a town car ride home to his vast Manhattan apartment. Smithhimself's faithful cleaning lady has turned down the sheets. Ahhh, slumber. And sweet dreams....
04/29/09
04/29/09
They were also-- each and every one, especially the bright-eyed twentysomething females-- completely revolting. Like, I hated them more than I hate dudes who clip their fingernails on the train.
I think we saw something familiar in each other, though. They're generally creative types, and I guess they feared wasting their twenties in the service industry while trying to 'make it.' I, on the other hand, abhor the idea of getting up before ten, putting on uncomfortable clothes, and taking a pay cut just so my mom feels like college wasn't a waste of time and money.
04/29/09
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04/29/09
i never realized the answer to my concerns was more bullshit.
04/29/09
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04/29/09
+ Watch video
02/13/09
I didn't ask 'em anything though.
02/13/09
02/13/09
02/13/09
02/13/09
Diamond Bailout!
02/13/09
02/13/09
Dinner tonight at the Waverly, more alcohol and then a town car ride home to his vast Manhattan apartment. Smithhimself's faithful cleaning lady has turned down the sheets. Ahhh, slumber. And sweet dreams....
02/13/09