I started in the business in 1977, working for a guy who could have walked off the set of Mad Men. He had a glass eye to replace one he'd lost in the War (Korea) and because of this, I hated looking at him. Not because I was freaked by the fake eye, but because it looked real and I couldn't remember which eye was which and each time our eyes met I worried I was tracking the wrong one. Like most women in those days, I started out as a secretary. The halls of advertising were clogged with secretaries, everybody had one, even some secretaries. Eventually, I was promoted to copywriter at what was arguably the best shop on the planet. I pitied freelancers brought in to work on projects no one else wanted, people aged out of the business, who had missed landing a spot on the corporate food chain. Then, I got pregnant: a condition so unusual for creatives in that era, my boss reacted by granting six months paid leave. But the day before I was to go back to work, the sitter dropped my baby on her head. The kid was OK, but I was so shaken that I became an ad-agency migrant worker like the freelancers I'd pitied--who in roaring 80s were laughing all the way to pre-ATM lines at the bank.
4 comments:
Wasn't there a study a few months back that correlated the number of bumperstickers on someone's car with their degree of mental instability?
Just a guess, but I'm pretty sure you're not going to have a calm, thoughtful discussion with this person, about politics or anything else...
You can tell it's not Berkeley because it's not a Subaru.
Maybe he's a NASCAR enthusiast.
@Jake P. Funny statistic. And one I believe ;)
@Bob Hoffman LOL
@Anonymous Interesting theory ;)
Post a Comment