nasty stories of creative directors who once interviewed me

When I was trying to escape from the in-house marketing department I'd started in and get an actual agency job, I interviewed for over a year. I had no contacts in the agency world and a book full of retail work based on what I hoped were clever lines and extremely repetitive, product-focused layouts. I was fueled by hope and desperation, and not much else.

I cobbled together a list of agencies and headhunters from award show books and the yellow pages (remember, this was before most companies and agencies had much of any presence on the intertube) and tried calling around. Most were never available; any switchboards I managed to get through led me to voicemail, not voices. It was a very long process.

One of the first CDs who agreed to see me was at Dentsu. Their offices were at University and Dundas, not far from where I worked at Eaton's, so I "had a dentist appointment" one morning and humped my nascent portfolio down there, hidden in a large knapsack. It being my first time in one of those things called an agency, I was terrified. Sweat waterfalled off my palms and forehead as I approached the receptionist to announce my presence, and pooled as I sat waiting for the Creative Director. A few minutes later he was there, introducing himself and being somewhat humourless, and he took me into a small boardroom.

Within 90 seconds whatever weak hope I had had been punctured. He hated everything; told me briefly how I should change each piece, and I was in and out of there in about ten minutes. After that I did not make any calls for several dark weeks.

Looking back, of course he had no reason to understand the situation I was in, no reason to be nice, no reason to try. Today I understand his impatience – I can only wince thinking at how awful my book my have been – but I don't understand why he showed it. If I agree to see someone junior or new, I think I owe them a certain amount of patience. Not an endless amount, but some.

Much later, while I was freelancing, I met the ACD for direct and digital at a small "integrated" shop. She liked my work; liked it so much that she took me to see the executive CD. He was a mass guy, mucho awarded. The ACD introduced me, said some very nice things about me and my conceptual DM work, and left me with the CD. He didn't have time to see my book at that moment, he said, but wanted me to make an appointment to come back before I left. He was very friendly, he talked about their recent work and how they liked to work; he even showed me some work that wasn't final yet. I thought we had a terrific connection, so I was really looking forward to my time with him the next week.

Things started to go downhill as soon as he opened my book. He saw direct mail and the temperature in the room dropped thirty degrees. He didn't look at me as I tried to talk about the strategy of the work, flipped through a few more items, and suddenly had an urgent meeting to go to. I was in his office for a grand total of five minutes.

This time, I wasn't crushed. His agency had approached me because of the work I was doing in DM. I knew why I was there, and was confident about what I offered them. He was clueless, and dismissive of work he knew nothing about.

The first CD taught me some valuable lessons, and forced me to go back to my book and rework the hell out of it. It was a necessary, if painful, first step.

The second CD was just an asshole. The only lesson he taught me was that some creative directors are just assholes.