Was out last evening with some old comrades, a former consumer insights analyst turned capitalist, and a creative director/art director. We were acquainting ourselves with some Stella Artois and gossiping and pontificating and taking the piss out of each other. It was pleasant.
A man joined us a couple of hours in, a friend of the capitalist's. I'm usually a little leery of pals of pals under these circumstances, when the history and level of intoxication that the three of us shared isn't shared by the newcomer; it tends to skew the vibe and course of the evening. (And, okay, it's usually just too much work to deal with new people in my life. I'm becoming a cranky old bastard.) But he was funny, a prosecutor who told good stories. And he seemed to enjoy our pontification about the State of Advertising, and Where Agencies were Going, and the Old Days generally. I was warming up to him.
And then after some particularly pointed wisdom on our part, in the context of young writers and art directors who are trying to break into the business, out of the blue the newcomer said:
"You guys clearly know how to punch – and get punched – in the mouth."
We stopped dead, breaking into smiles and suddenly feeling very cool, very Don Draper.
And also a little beaten up.
