Chapter 11. Seller & buyer beware!

At some point after putting our agency on the market, someone said that finding a buyer was a bit like finding a spouse. 

In truth, it’s more like dating, marriage and divorce all at the same time: you’re excited at the prospect of life with a new partner, you continue to flutter your eyelashes at anyone who might step in with a better offer, and you’re in an acrimonious battle about how to divide up the family fortune. (If you think partnership agreements and shareholding would dictate the distribution of funds, then you don’t know people.) 

Oh, and just for the hell of it, prior to escorting you down the aisle, your new spouse will require a full-scale financial rectal examination and the signing of a restrictive pre-nup.

Sounds like a fun time, doesn’t it? It isn’t. And it takes at least a year out of your life.

Is it worth it in the end? I’ll get to that in a bit. But to pick up the story from where I left off, we spent a good two years diligently completing the assignments set by our consigliere/headmaster, Charles Fallon of SI & Partners (see chapter 10). Paul Parton masterfully increased margins across the business to a 20% average. We all contributed in the drive for growth, through new business wins and the addition of an extremely profitable studio in NYC. The two offices worked harmoniously together to pitch and retain a chunk of Land Rover business. And we created a nifty catchphrase for our philosophy: Blockbuster Branding, based on our track record of working with Hollywood talent to create big content for brands. 

Which meant we were now ready to parade ourselves in front of a line of suitors. If that makes it sound more like prostitution than a marriage, then you’re clearly not a romantic like me.

Charles and his team introduced us to a range of companies, from a talent agency to a few ad agency networks to a PR company called Golin, a scion of the IPG family. We met them all. We discussed our hopes and dreams. We shared our hobbies. We talked about the children we might have together. And… we went with the one who offered the most money. Cut to: us boogying down the aisle, arm in arm, with Matt Neale of Golin.

I lived to regret this for a couple reasons. 

First, Golin is a PR company, and PR is about grabbing people’s attention for a short span of time. Like a firework. Whereas brand advertising is a slower burn: creating loyalty over years. Complementary skills but not, as it transpires, compatible processes. 

The second reason was that I spent precisely zero minutes with Matt Neale prior to the purchase. I did have a breakfast with Fred Cook, then CEO, and Caroline Dettman, their creative director, but that was the only contact I had with anybody at Golin before they presented us to their business leaders as the newest member of the family.

Now, I am prepared to admit that it’s quite possible I was being kept in the attic like some mad uncle by George, Jackie and Paul: as you may have noticed, I’m not afraid of speaking my own unvarnished version of the truth, on occasion. It’s also quite possible Matt believed the erroneous ‘founder’ titles my esteemed colleagues had belatedly adopted for themselves*, and thought he was talking to the real founders of the company. 

Still, I do think it is a little strange that if you’re gonna plonk down tens of millions of dollars for a creative agency, you don’t want to meet the creative who started it. In fact, Matt and I didn’t sit down for a full year after he bought us, and I think that demonstrated one of three things: A. What they really thought about creative. B. What they really thought of me. Or C. Both.

Matt, it turns out, is actually one of the gents in the industry and when we did get to know one another we realized we had many important things in common – like wine and cars. Just not the important one: like how to run a creative agency. He was happy to leave the non-creative people in charge (George, Jackie, Paul). I wasn’t. 

Which brings me back to the five-million-dollar question: was it all worth it?

Yes, but with a caveat to both the emptor and the venditor (hark at me and my classical education/google skills): if you’re going to sell or buy a business, you should dive deep to find out if you both appreciate what you actually do and what it really takes to do it. If you don’t have that initial understanding, one of you will shortly be filing for divorce. 

In our case, that was me.

As with all break-ups, it was more than a little sad (for me at least; my partners may still be dancing in the streets) yet also something of a relief. 

The Brooklyn Brothers had given me everything I could possibly have hoped for, and way more besides: great work, longstanding friendships, unbelievable experiences and a lifetime of learnings. But it was time I moved on. 

*My ex-partners still maintain they are the founders of the company despite joining years after Callum MacGregor and I actually started it. Call me petty but that still jams in my craw. Harrumph.