Invisible forces.

Reading the headline here, you might think I am writing about the deep state, the dark web, or the latest off-the-wall conspiracy theory. I am not; instead, what’s here is in response to a question raised from my friend and colleague Rick English, with a comment, in passing, on a minor blog milestone. Oh, and today is my birthday, so there is a bit about that as well. 

Let’s begin with Rick, who asked: 

“Who, as a matter of policy, should be responsible for determining what final creative is presented to the client? The Creative Director or the assigned Account Manager?   

“I think it was Peter Drucker that said, ‘Everybody’s responsibility is nobody’s responsibility.’” 

Rick’s question was a follow-on the one Hadley’s Ted Johnson asked, “Who makes the best Creative Director, a Copywriter or an Art Director,” which became the title of a piece I posted a couple of weeks ago. Rick figured his query is even “tougher” than Ted’s, claiming, “It’s one of those existential questions that agency start-ups are loathed to answer.” 

He’s got that right.   

So, who is in charge? In some agencies – primarily the creatively-driven ones – forget job titles or org charts; the Creative Director is the boss. In other agencies – mostly those shops that are Account dominated – the Account team is the boss. In my agencies – the good ones anyway – the decision wasn’t quite so binary. I say as much in Chapter 31 of The Art of Client Service, “Fight About the Work with Colleagues; Fight for it with Clients.” 

There I write about how Myron and me – “Myron” is Mike Slosberg; “Me” is me – disagreed over some work to be shared with our American Express client. Mike is the Creative Director; I’m the person running the account. The story ends with me conceding, “If I couldn’t persuade him [Mike], then the problem was mine, not his.” The point: my job is to make my case, but if I fail, I defer to the Creative Director. When the client asked for a recommendation, “I turned to Myron and said, ‘Why don’t you talk about the choice we arrived at?’” Even there, in front of the client, there is no conflict; Myron/Mike will speak for the agency. 

Later, in a Chapter called, “Respect What it Takes to Do Great Creative,” in a backwards way I explain why: “I didn’t understand that my job was to improve the work, not approve it.” 

So, who’s in charge? Even with collaborative agencies – one exception aside, mine were – the final decision ultimately resides with the Creative Director. It didn’t matter if I ran the agency – someone with the power to overrule others – I only would step in if I absolutely believed that what the Creative team was presenting would jeopardize the account. It was an authority I rarely, if ever, exercised. To use a political analogy, it was like “the nuclear option,” deployed only as a final, last resort. 

So, if I were not “the decider” (another political reference), how did I influence the work of my Creative colleagues? Was I effective in improving the work, rather than approving it? At first, I (mistakenly) thought of myself as the approver, but over time learned clients and colleagues were far better served if I were an improver. 

I came to understand that a frontal assault would be a path to discord, disappointment, and failure. Instead, I became adept at finding something to praise even work I found wanting. My suggestions were delivered exactly as that: as suggestions, not commands or orders. I had earned a well-deserved reputation as an aggressive, assertive boss, but I came to know I was at my best when my approach was subtle, supportive, and far from confrontational.   

When I was at my best, when I was able to persuade rather than prescribe, I was able to influence the work to make it better. The Creative Director made the call; I was there to help. It was as if an invisible force was at work.   

That similar invisible force is at work with this blog; I don’t know how this post became my 600th – this from someone who, starting out, wondered if he would have anything to say – but there is no mistaking the number, and here we are, ten-plus years later, wondering how we got here. 

I looked in the mirror this morning. No visible change. Still losing my hair, slowly, almost imperceptibly, my bald spot bleeding across the top of my head, but other than that, I looked exactly as I did the day before, and likely will look the day after, which, in a way, is surprising, given today is my 70th birthday.   

Invisible forces at work, as they were yesterday, as they are today, and as they will be tomorrow.