I want to do great work. But should I care?

Every time I have one of those meetings, I imagine myself a plumber.

By "one of those meetings," I mean the ones where I'm so perplexed by the clients' feedback I want to scream, but I can't, so I hold my breath instead. Or, I'm so frustrated by the politics, I start checking LinkedIn under the desk just to give myself some glimmer of hope that maybe I can not.

It's strange how much we care about doing great work in advertising.

I know because whenever I complain to anyone who does not work in the industry, they look at me with that 'it's just an ad' side-eye.

To which I have no reasonable response.

So I engage in a thought-experiment: what if I were a plumber?

What if I worked another perfectly respectable professional service industry (arguably, more so) where stressed clients have urgent problems under tight deadlines?

Would I care so much about doing a great job?

Sure, I'd take a lot of pride in doing a great job, but let me consider some specific analog situations.

Situation #1: The client is unhappy with my work even though I followed his instructions (a.k.a. brief).

Situation #2: The client wants the job finished faster. (It can't be.)

Situation #3: I actually do a poor job and have to start from scratch.

If I were a plumber, I'd be annoyed, but I really wouldn't care much.

It wouldn't challenge my sanity like advertising does.

I'd go back home, hug my loved ones and that'd be that.

It's just water and pipes, after all.

(By the way, I'd also charge more for #1 and #2 or say no-- which we never do in advertising).

The next step is to interrogate whether it's possible that there's something unique about advertising worth caring more about than plumbing.

Possibility #1: Millions of people may see my work.

(Marginally valid: 80% of the millions who see are actually ignoring my work. Up to 50% who see my display ads are bots. 45% are actively blocking me. "Millions seeing" is akin to a guy off the street seeing the beautiful new shower head I just installed.)

Possibility #2: I'm working for a big, famous client.

(Invalid: If Coke called me to install urinals at their new office instead of make ads for their new drink, I wouldn't care more because it's Coke.)

Possibility #3: Advertising problems are simply more important than plumbing problems.

(Invalid: Have you ever watched a toilet start to clog?)

Possibility #4: Advertising is super-competitive and if I don't do a good job, somebody else will. Worse, I may be fired.

(Invalid: The US Bureau of Labor Statistics cites that both plumbing and advertising have the same number of workers, around 400,000. They are equally competitive. Also, just like how people will always need to pee-- global advertising spending has remained at 1% of global GDP regardless of economic condition. I'd probably find another job eventually.)

Possibility #5: It's an ego thing.

Hm.

This may be the only legitimate reason.

In plumbing, either the faucet leaks. Or it doesn't.

Both I and client can see.

But in advertising, results are much more difficult to measure.

Simply too many factors.

Luck is involved. Good timing matters.

Which often makes "great work" a subjective judgment--a contest between tastes.

The problem isn't that neither of us can be objectively right.

It's that neither of us can be objectively proven right.

If I were an accountant, the balance sheet is correct. Or it is not.

If I were a mechanic, the engine runs. Or it does not.

If I were an electrician, the light turns on. Or it does not.

Advertising effectiveness, however, is an endless, wicked and fruitless debate.

Of this, I am certain.

So, should I care?

Absolutely not.

But will I care?

Maybe just a drip less.

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