At Queen's there's a savage initiation ceremony for engineers called the Grease Pole, and I seem to have witnessed it at its worst in 1984. In a large crater in the middle of a field, a tall thoroughly greased pole was erected, and freezing water and other, um, liquids were poured in the hole. Then the frosh engineers (one of whom was a good friend from high school) were invited into the hole and asked politely to claw each other's eyes out and get to the top of the pole. (I vaguely remember there being something on top that had to be retrieved, but I could be wrong.)
The figurative cherry on this hellish sundae was the fact that there were a couple of hundred upper year engineers surrounding the hole and, as they cheered on the frosh, whipping frozen food objects into the melee. Tomatoes, oranges and apples were popular, and I recall some melons arcing into the pit.
It was about as close to a medieval experience as I'd come, until travelling to Mali last year.
Naturally, it's already occurred to you that I'm using this as a metaphor for advertising.
Now, if you're a junior, I don't share this to be patronizing. (In spite of the fact that it will probably read that way anyway.) I share it to try to demonstrate that me, along with almost everyone else I know who's senior in this business, has also been paid barely enough to survive; I know that life isn't glamorous.
Very early in my career, I had up to four roommates, rode my bike to work 12 months a year, took rolls of toilet paper from work instead of buying them, and drank in the cheapest-ass places I could find. (Grossman's being one of the few that's still around.) And I was ridiculously in debt, maxing out what little credit I could get. Whatever talent and ability I had took years to pay off.
During this time money really mattered, day in and day out. I knew how much I had in my pocket, and how much was in my bank account, because if I didn't keep track I couldn't make rent. And money did come, more slowly than I would have liked.
I say this because if you're starting out you're likely in a similar position, and I want you to know that things will get better if you have talent and you stick it out. But the industry expects you to keep working like a maniac and learning and being positive until that money moment happens. A sense of entitlement because you know you're talented or feel like you have huge potential is a massive impediment. (I'm sorry that sounds condescending. But it is true.)
Because, unless you're an NFL draft pick or highly rated Junior A prospect, you don't get paid for your potential. You get paid because the people who sign the cheques know you can do the job.