Doing the dirty work.

As I explained recently to my friend Rick English, when I am at a loss for ideas worthy of posting, I often turn to The New York Times, to The New Yorker, or (rarely) to the lesser lights writing for the industry trades, all in a quest for ideas.

This past week I combed my files for something to spark interest, finding a couple of headline-grabbing items: ?one was the 40th anniversary of Apple’s Super Bowl commercial, 1984; the other was the unexpected layoffs (to me, anyway) at Weiden & Kennedy. ?I could have written about either, but instead I want to write about Doctor J.

“Who he?” ask some of my younger, international, non-basketball-following readers.

“The Doctor,” as he came to be known for the way he “operated” on court, is Julius Erving, a once-in-a-generation, all-world talent now enshrined in the National Basketball Association’s Hall of Fame.? Erving joined my hometown Philadelphia Seventy-Sixers in 1976, but for years, in spite of being surrounded by top-tier talent, found the pursuit of a championship title chronically elusive.? It became clear to many of us that something was missing from the team.

That missing “something” eventually arrived in the form of Moses Malone, in many ways the antithesis of the elegant Irving.? Malone was a blue-collar, lunch-pail, do-the-dirty-work player, known for grappling in the trenches while Dr. J soared above the rim.

Malone joined the Sixers in 1983, seven years after Dr. J; the team won the NBA championship that very year.? He was the proverbial missing piece, the player who would help Dr. J in ways few others could.?

Here’s what’s interesting about this:? even people who weren’t basketball fans know who Dr. J. is.? Malone?? Not nearly as much.

In professional sports you have the stars – the Dr. J’s – who gather acclaim, and you have the people toiling in near obscurity – the Moses Malone’s – who are just as important, but not as noteworthy.? Everyone knows the stars; few know the others.

Which brings me to client service.

Advertising and marketing agencies of all stripes have its stars – the Creative Directors, Copywriters, Art Directors, the Planners maybe – who are celebrated and acknowledged for the work they do.? You also have the Account people, those who do the grunt work – the budgets, schedules, financial reconciliations, conference reports, follow-up emails, other necessary items – often overlooked, except when something goes wrong, in which case everyone pays attention.

Much client-service-driven Account work is hard, often thankless, bordering on tedious.? It also is critical, essential, and utterly key to the effective functioning of an agency.

Years ago, in the introduction of the now superseded second edition of The Art of Client Service – a useful book, but not nearly as helpful as the current, third edition – I pointed out that where I once had staff to do most of these tasks – I rarely did a budget or schedule on my own – I now found myself relying on me to do the dirty work, pointing out on page xx (that’s 20 in Roman numerals),

“If there was a conference report to write, I wrote it.? A schedule – the same.? A budget – that too.”

I could rebel at and reject such work, but I came to revere it, respect it, and rely on it as I conducted my solo consulting and coaching practice.? Yes, I suppose you could view this work as dismissible; I see it as noble.?

Why am I sharing this with you?? To remind you that when you are mired in that middle-of-the-night, time-crunched, go-it-alone activity – that complicated budget, that confusing schedule, that need-it-now report or proposal – remember you are doing god’s work, something utterly essential, a can’t-do-without task critical to your agency and its clients.? Few will applaud, no one celebrate, and only rarely one will recognize what you’ve just accomplished.? Except me perhaps.?

Here’s to you. ?Now go pour yourself that drink you’ve earned.

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• #advertising
• #marketing
• #Account service
• #Dr. J