something I wish weren't true really is

I've never been one to celebrate the alleged mysteries of the discipline of Advertising. Because, really, what we do is not difficult.

But that doesn't mean that just anyone can string a couple of words together and get hired as a copywriter. There is real precision in what we do, both in terms of the craft of executing an ad, and in terms of selling it. And most people who think that they could be writers or art designers, while they may be very good at messing around with colours, words or shapes, just don't get the precision that's required.

Which means that it's really hard to walk in off the street and nail a job at an ad agency.

I wish this weren't true. I didn't go to copywriting or design school; I did an English Lit degree, and fell into this marketing pit. Many of the people I like working with have other backgrounds and interests that make them not just interesting creatives, but interesting people. It's tough to get that breadth if you graduate from high school and go straight into a program at Humber or Seneca.

But that program is also how you know what ad agencies really need. It's where you learn how they think, how you need to think, and you get a sense of how to work with a brief, and present your work. And these days, there are so many promising newcomers who have taken college ad programs that, no matter how much raw talent you have, it's virtually impossible to come into an agency cold – without college training – and be as good as those who have.

That's not to say that, if you don't have college ad training, it's a waste of time to approach a CD and have her or him look at your book. It isn't. But I've learned that you can't expect that CD to hire you, or say much of anything beyond get yourself into a college program.

An advertising program isn't technically a prerequisite to getting a job. But it may as well be.

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.