The Vendor-Client Relationship in the Real World

M.M. McDermott



When it comes to economics, advertising is its own animal. Like a peacock. Strange. Fast. Flashy. And marginally housebroken. But so worth it.

I love this business.

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Friday Ad Haiku: Eating for free at the agency

I'm a liar.

A few haikus back, I made the statement that there are "no free lunches." Metaphorically, that's probably true. But in practice, I've found it couldn't be further from the truth. In fact, I've developed a reputation as an unapologetic mooch. In my time at Renegade (from 2000-2002, and then 2006 to present), I've perfected the art of eating for free.

And now, I'm sharing my secrets. Just remember, with this kind of power comes great indigestion - and the ever-constant threat of an ass-kicking.

1. Anything without a name on it.
At our agency, the policy regarding foodstuffs is simple. Put your name on it. Stick your flag in it. Leave your brand on it. Whatever you have to do, mark it as yours. Otherwise, people like me will swoop down during off-hours to pilfer. Having no name on something is an invitation for lunchtime Communism. When that happens, your yogurt is mine, comrade.

2. Expired frozen foods.
It's inevitable. People get busy. A flustered AE will stick a Lean Cuisine Salisbury Steak dinner under an ice cube tray. A crusty designer will leave a Kashi stirfry dish in the company freezer and forget about it. And time will pass. Epochs. Millennia. At least, it feels like that as I make my weekly rounds, checking to see what stock is about to turn - much the way a winemaker checks his oak barrels, waiting for them to mature. And don't worry about getting sick; the date says BEST if used by April 10, 2007. It's not a warning. It's a suggestion.

3. Expatriate leave-behinds.
Face it. We're in a business that has high turnover. Mercurial personalities. Intense competition. New opportunities. It's a breeding ground for egress. And a fantastic source for free food. I make it a point to check and double check names. When someone leaves to pursue a new career, the last thing they're thinking about is their ham and cheese Hot Pocket.

4. Client meetings.
If you can't manage to get yourself on the account, at least introduce yourself to the client when the food arrives. I'm like a stray dog when clients come in for a lunch meeting, sniffing around the conference room, nosing through leftovers. Half a free bagel beats a whole $6.99 sandwich, know what I'm sayin'? I think you do.

5. Vending machine "shakins".
If your kitchen or cafeteria is blessed with an old vending machine, that's pretty much a guarantee there's free food to be had. Now I'm not advocating stealing. I don't stoop to such things. It's wrong. And I've got a bad back. I'm just saying. Product just kinda slips out of those rusty old spiral holders with hardly any vigorous shaking at all. And for a different kind of shakedown, check the tax license sticker on the side of the machine. You'd be surprised how much cheaper it is for the owner of a vending machine to give a talkative employee free Tastykakes than to pay the license renewal fee.

6. Parties.
I don't care how much you dislike someone at work. If it's their party, you're their best friend. Stand by their side. Give them support and well wishes. Help them cut their cake. As the cake cutter, only you truly know how many pieces someone's had. Help yourself to seconds and thirds. If need be, change clothes or put on a fake mustache each time you come back for more as not to arouse the suspicions of your coworkers.

7. Drivebuys.
If a coworker gets up from their lunch and leaves the room, you've got a window of opportunity. Sneak in for a free bite. But be careful. The laws of the elementary school lunchroom are applicable in perpetuity; don't be surprised if someone licks their french fries or sprinkles copious amounts of pepper on their salad to protect their food from people like you.

So there it is, grasshopper. I've shared my secrets. Use what you've learned wisely, though. And if you get caught. Blame it on the Cap'n. I know nothing.

There ARE free lunches.
But they are not served with a
side of self-respect.


Previously in the Friday 5-7-5: Filchbook.

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A Creative Confession

A couple weekends ago, many folks from Renegade and friends participated in Baltimore’s 48-Hour Film Project. Our team was given a character, a line of dialogue, a prop and a genre, and we had exactly 48 hours to write, cast, prep, shoot, edit and deliver a 4-7 minute film. It’s a lot of work and a lot of fun, and a chance for creative types at Renegade (who spend most of the time thinking up creative ways to sell someone else’s wares) a chance to really stretch our creative muscles.

Wait, are you saying your needs as creative minds aren’t fully met writing :30 screamer spots and commercials featuring the product, the offer and the phone number, each three times? I’m sad to say, not always.





*Please note, neither of these are Renegade-produced, and creatively have no link whatsoever to Renegade prior to this blog post.


Yes, sometimes, a client sees a script and it’s perfect, not a word out of place. And sometimes, supermodels marry old, bald, short, fat guys.

Let’s face facts. This is a business, and clients and agencies alike are both in it to make money. A creative type like myself, who dreams of one day writing the next Bull Durham or The Usual Suspects, takes a job at an advertising agency because it pays the bills and it’s a chance to use my talents to pay the bills while Hollywood waits to decide how great my current screenplay is. (I don’t want to give away the plot, but let’s just say it features zombies, extraterrestrials and surfing—Dawn of the Dead meets E.T. meets North Shore. I know what you’re thinking, and yes, it’s just as awesome as it sounds. Hollywood, please ask for ex. 267.)

Not that Hollywood.

But for creative types, who want to make the most interesting, catching, effective product for a client, the process can actually be hell. Even after 17 revisions and multiple reviews by multiple committees, you still may not have it right.

There are so many places you can go wrong:

It’s too expensive. (Someone should’ve told me that before I proposed my first “post-apocalyptic” cable advertisement.)

The client doesn’t get it.

It doesn’t feature the product enough.

“How will this make the phones ring?”

And sometimes you just completely miss the mark.

This conflict can easily occur when more abstract minds intersect with more directed minds or more simply, when two groups just aren’t on the same page.

However, it can be even more difficult when you take 30 or so creative minds and tell them to come up with one simple, short story in the span of only a few hours.

The story should be about this.

The story should be about that.

The story should be about an ear ring that turns the wearer into actor/comedian Chris Tucker, who needs to return the ear ring to a certain church or risk being stuck that way forever.

And even once you’ve decided on characters and a story, there are still more issues.

The dialogue’s flat.

That’s a cliché.

That isn’t funny.

Why would the character do that?

Why does it have to be so raunchy?

What’s so wrong with raunchy?

The audience isn’t gonna get it.

The audience isn’t stupid.

You’re gonna get it.

You’re stupid.

Put even a handful of people in a room who are passionate about creativity and who want to produce the best product, and people are going to butt heads. Because each one has a vision, and each one has a case to make as to why they are right. After all, they do all do this for a living.

In the end, we forged our creative efforts into what we thought was a pretty good, pretty funny story. And then, on the day of the shoot, the story changed even more. Sigh.

So clients, when you get a pitch or a script or a comp, and think, What the hell are these guys thinking? Rest assured, we like this idea. I’ll bet we feel pretty passionate about this idea. And we didn’t just go with the first idea that stuck to the fridge. We think this idea works for a reason. Your audience is going to get it. And it’s going to sell your product. Of course, if we ever miss the mark, we can simply blame our Creative Director. You're welcome, Ken.

But remember, sometimes short, bald, fat guys can be endearing. Just look at Danny DeVito.

I think I’ve made my point.

--Captain Awesome, Project Specialist

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