“The Six-Foot Woman Blues”

E

Here comes my old lady.

E

My baby’s six-foot one.

E

Baby, my old lady she’s a whole ‘lot of fun.

E                                  A

‘Cause she can move it, baby.

A                                                          E

Baby, she can move it when she tries.

B                                                          A

You know that drink just ain’t as strong until it hits you, baby…

A                                  E

Right in between the eyes.

Due to poor academic performance on my part, I had just officially dropped out of the pre-med program at the University of Texas. It was pretty obvious by that point that I just wasn’t cut out for it. I studied twice as much and did half as well as all the other pre-med kids I knew. I was driving myself insane and trashing my GPA at the same time. I needed to find something else.

A friend of mine suggested that I try out advertising. He knew I liked to write because even back then I kept a journal with me everywhere I went.

He told me to find a professor named Deborah Morrison and talk to her about applying for the creative program.

As I sat outside the communications building waiting for my appointment with Deborah, I happened to look up as a significant portion of the University of Texas Longhorn ladies’ basketball team casually walked by me on their way to class.

That’s when I took out my journal and wrote “The Six-Foot Woman Blues”.

E

Here comes my old lady.

E

My baby’s six-foot two.

E

Baby, my old lady she knows just what to do..

E                                  A

‘Cause she can move it, baby.

A                                                          E

Baby, she can move it when she tries.

B                                                          A

You know that drink just ain’t as strong until it hits you, baby…

A                                  E

Right in between the eyes.

Deborah explained the program to me. There was a creative project you had to do to apply for entry. If they thought it was good and you showed some potential, you got into the first semester of a three-semester sequence.

At the end of each semester, your work was reviewed and critiqued. You were either passed on to the next semester of the sequence, held back and given the opportunity to take the first semester over in hopes of improvement, or you were asked to leave.

I liked the competitive nature of the program immediately.

I liked the career path of an advertising creative that Deborah explained to me.

And I liked the weird people I saw milling about the department.

But what really sold me on advertising was when Deborah explained to me that no potential employer would ever ask me what my GPA was. All that would ever matter is the quality of my portfolio.

Sign me up.

For the first two-decades of my career, Deborah was right. Nothing ever mattered except my portfolio. It was always, as they say, all about the work.

If I wanted a raise, I knew all I had to do was something great. If I wanted a new job, I just had to impress a recruiter with my portfolio. And if I wanted to help out on a cool assignment going on in a different group, all I had to do was volunteer.

It was just like Deborah said. It was all about the work.

Until it wasn’t.

I can’t pinpoint exactly when and where, but something changed.

They kept saying it was still all about the work, but I knew it wasn’t.

I was in the trenches. I’ve always been in the trenches. And it’s only when you’re truly in the trenches and actually doing the work that you can tell where the rubber is truly hitting the road.

At first it was just about the scope. I remember taking an extra credit idea into an internal meeting and being told how brilliant it was, but how it would piss off the client if we presented it because we’ve been told not to bring work that isn't covered in the scope.

Then the scope started telling you how many people you could have working on an assignment, what you could pay them and even how many hours they could bill. For the first time in my career, I started cheating on my timesheets by reducing my hours.

And then, before I knew it, I was 45 and married with two kids and a three-bedroom bungalow. I became viewed as too expensive. I needed to make enough money to cover the mortgage on a modest house and three meals a day for everyone with the same last name as me. Advertising couldn’t support that anymore, so I got let go.

I went freelance. Then it became all about my rate. I’ve never successfully charged what most people with my experience charge. They always offer less and I always take it. I don't have the stomach to negotiate.

Now we seem to be in a perfect storm.

The diminishing ROI on the 30 second TV spot has devalued what I do as a creative.

Chat GPT is being used to write copy.

Massive holding companies are consolidating to create efficiencies which means lay-offs.

And the market is tanking because we have a madman as president and the world’s stingiest gazillionaire as his henchman. So now everyone’s budgets are frozen.

It’s a bloodbath.

It’s a dead zone.

It’s post after post on LinkedIn from people whose lives are falling apart- some of which are being written by me.

It’s a six-foot woman and she will break your heart time and time again.

E

Here comes my old lady.

E

My baby’s six-foot three.

E

I stand up on my tippy-toes and come to her knees..

E                                  A

But she can move it, baby.

A                                                          E

Baby, she can move it when she tries.

B                                                          A

You know that drink just ain’t as strong until it hits you, baby…

A                                  E

Right in between the eyes.

Thanks for reading. I’ll see you again real soon.