As a student, I had the pleasure and privilege of spending more than my fair share of time on the business side of a cash register and can tell you that most rude cashiers actually started the day as fairly normal, happy people – people who would never deliberately ruin someone else’s holiday shopping experience.

But having to deal with a series of thoughtless, obnoxious customers who pick fights or take more time than necessary can wear anybody down. Worse still, they build up the anger of the other people in the lineup, who somehow feel it’s the cashier’s fault that they had to wait longer than they should have.

If we could all be better customers, we would go a long way to ensuring that we, and the person behind us in the lineup, have a good paying-up experience.

The following tips come from a part of life over 20 years ago, but I bet they still hold true today:

• Don’t play cutesy games with the money. Older men especially seem to think this is a form of flirting. They’ll put the money in the cashier’s hand, then pull it back or not let go, turning it into a little tug-of-war game; all the while smiling a very creepy grin. This is not a turn on. It’s not funny. There’s an effing lineup behind you. Just hand over the money. If you’re that hard up for amusement and have such a lousy sense of humour, watch Just for Laughs Gags. That’s right up your alley.

• Commit to the buy before you get in the lineup. The cash is not the place for you to start looking for flaws in the item, or hemming and hawing and asking the cashier if she thinks your hard-to-please mother-in-law will like this. I don’t know your mother in law. I don’t know if this will fit her or if she’ll like that colour. There’s an effing lineup behind you. She can always bring it back. Or get her a damn gift card. No, I don’t want the speech about how impersonal that seems. You’re asking a perfect stranger for advice on what to get her – how much more impersonal can this get?

• Don’t go off on the cashier if your credit card gets rejected. Yes, it’s embarrassing, but it happens. We all know for a fact that you did not just make a payment this morning that hasn’t gone through. Nobody cares if it’s your g-damned husband, son, daughter, nephew that ran the card up without your permission. No, that cashier does not have to phone Visa on your behalf to find out what’s up. There’s an effing lineup behind you and here’s what’s up: everybody’s patience. Ask if you can have the item put on hold and step back graciously.

• Exact change is only required on buses. Please do not stand there counting out your pennies, nickels, and dimes. Inevitably you will drop one on the floor and the whole effing lineup will roll its eyes to heaven and seethe while you go groping around for it. Then you’ll discover that you’re a quarter short anyway and pay with a bill. If you’re looking for a way to get rid of all that change, give it to charity or the person bumming for it just outside the store.

• Now is not the time to practice your keen negotiating skills. The cashier has no authority to give you a discount – the machine will not let her arbitrarily override the price point. If you really are buying so much that you believe you deserve one, or have found a flaw and think the item should be discounted, ask a floorperson to find you the manager and negotiate the discount on the side. That way every person in the effing lineup won’t get the bright idea that they deserve a discount, too.

I’ll finish on just one more point: would it kill you to make eye contact and acknowledge that you’re having a transaction with a human being? Maybe even smile?

Happy holidays. Enjoy your purchase.

I also admire the way she changed her show from being one of many, like Ricky Lake and Jerry Springer, that got down in the muck and mire of base humanity and exploited these people in the name of entertainment. How she turned that train around to become a show about optimism, awareness, authenticity, and courage is a feat not to be ignored. She got people reading. She got people thinking about their mental and physical health. She did a lot of good.

And that’s what blows my mind about the Oprah’s Favourite Things show. This woman built her (new) brand on “finding and living your passion” and “honouring your most authentic life.” She’s done a number of shows about financial independence and responsibility. I recall one being about the growing issue of debt among Americans and how that has got to change.

But she throws all of that away whenever she does these favourite things shows. I watched ten minutes of the 2010 show that aired on Friday, Nov 19. I made it as far as the $450 cashmere sweater. Before that there was a camera worth a lot more.

The audience members were jumping up and down, hugging each other and crying. They were all just so thrilled to be going home with all this stuff. It was nothing short of an obscene greed-fest, an orgy of materialism.

That same day (Fri. Nov. 19^th), I’d done a presentation to a client about ad writing and how important it was to identify your brand, and live it at all levels. The group I was talking to really got it. They totally understood that everything turned on brand, not just the ads they put out there, but the actual physical environment they created for their customers and the service they delivered.

I wish Oprah had been there. Maybe she’d have seen that this favourite thing stuff (which she then turned around and did AGAIN on Mon. Nov. 22) is absolutely off brand. What does she really stand for? Authentic, responsible living? Or grabbing as much stuff as you can? After the ten minutes I could stomach on Friday, I have my answer.

Specifically, I need a computer person who will actually do stuff for me. Now, I’ll admit, it’s mundane stuff. I need to upgrade my OS, install some new software, and do all of that without compromising any of the data I’ve already got stored.

Sure, I could do this myself. And this is why I have not yet found a computer person. You see, every “geek” (and I say that lovingly) I talk to offers to explain to me how to do it myself. They want to empower me so that I’ll be more self-reliant in the future. Or maybe they hate doing this stuff, too.

Just outside the boardroom door I could see an office filled with employees. Two of them were friends of mine, and one of those was a new dad. I knew how much they depended on this job – and here was their boss talking about closing up shop if the ad campaign I was there to create didn’t work.

This was during the last big recession. Where were those two guys going to get new jobs?

That was the day I understood that advertising wasn’t all just fun, creativity, and free beer. Sure, some of my bigger clients regularly set sales targets or accountability figures on campaigns. But that was all about keeping profits up.  They didn’t live or die by the campaign’s results.

This man’s business was dying. He had one of the last independently owned radio stations in Halifax. It had the highest listenership outside of the CBC in terms of sheer numbers of listeners, and in terms of the numbers of hours they tuned in.

Problem was, they were all 60+.

By the time we all reach our golden years, we’re done with major purchases. We’ve got a house and it’s furnished. We’re not having kids and keeping them in toys, sneakers, cereal, and school supplies. We’re certainly not getting a second car to drive them around.

We’re not as obsessed with fashion as we once were. We’re pretty loyal to our brands. And we’re probably on a fixed, retirement income. We ain’t partying like we used to.

So advertising doesn’t sway us the way it once did. And that’s why, despite this station’s great listenership, no one wanted to buy their ad time.

Without ad sales, it’s dead air. (Unless you’re CBC, which gets a budget from the government.)

That was the day I started to care if the work I did worked. And by “worked,” I didn’t mean win an award, get me up to Toronto for a week to do post-production and shop, or even give me some portfolio samples I could parlay into a raise or a new job. If this campaign didn’t work – two of my friends were going to be unemployed in six months’ time.

If you’re in the ad biz, think about that next time you sit down to create an ad. Don’t let the pressure of it crush your imagination, but do keep in mind, an ad has a job to do.  And it’s not just your job and reputation riding on it.

• You’ll just feel a little pressure. (Dentist)
• Your brakes need work. (Mechanic)
• That’s the creative challenge. (Client or account exec.)

I learned very early on in this industry that when someone says “creative challenge,” they don’t mean: “Push the envelope, kiddo,  break the rules, and show us what you can do.”  What they really mean is “I know I’m asking for something impossible,” or “I know that I’m wrong/contradicting myself, but am not going to admit it, so I’ll just dump the problem on you.”

Here are some examples of creative challenges I’ve faced over the years.

At an agency During one annual performance review I was complimented for my quick turnarounds and respect for deadlines. “Woo hoo!” I thought. “Here comes a raise/bonus.” Instead, I was informed that I needed to get my billable hours up.

“But the only way to get my hours up is to take more time on each project, and that would compromise deadlines and turnarounds,” I said.

“I know,” said my supervisor. “That’s the creative challenge. We want you to continue meeting all your deadlines, but get your billable hours up at the same time.”

For a while I tried slowing down on each project – exploring more solutions, considering more options. That got my billable hours up, but angered the account team. At my next review I was told I needed to return to form and start working faster.

“But I was supposed to get my billable hours up,” I said.

“I know,” said my supervisor. “That’s the creative challenge.”

Fortunately the solution to this creative challenge was fairly simple. Another co-worker shared the secret: deliver on time, but pad the timesheet. Problem solved.

In a radio spot We had done a radio spot for an auto-service client about the importance of oil changes. We had used a musical metaphor for the difference between how an engine feels with rough, dirty oil (discordant, raspy music) and smooth, fresh oil (Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus.”) However, a religious group was offended at our use of Handel’s music and the client, ever sensitive to their public, demanded we fix the spot at the agency’s expense.  “Simple enough,” I thought. “We’ll just pop in a different piece of music.”

But now the account exec at the agency was nervous. We couldn’t take a chance on offending another group. “No more musical metaphors,” I was told. “Use more realistic sound effects.”

“Well, OK,” I replied. “That’s easily done for the rough part of the spot. We can find raspy sound effects that will sound like a dirty engine. But there is no realistic sound effect for smooth, fresh oil. By definition, that would be silence and dead air is a no-no in radio.”

“That’s the creative challenge,” said the AE. “Come up with a catchy, realistic sound effect that works on radio and says smooth, well-lubricated engine.”

My brain has blocked how we got around this one. I have glimpses of sitting in the recording studio, trying sound effect after sound effect, and playing them for the AE and client, who would both comment that the smooth sound effect didn’t sound smooth enough yet. I can’t remember the end result – but I’m sure it sucked.

In a TV spot We were doing an animated spot for a client and had selected a really cool animation style. The people would be fairly “blobby” and fun looking – more metaphoric than realistic. And they were going to be in shades of purple. There was a strategic purpose for this. By using metaphoric people, we could get around any criticism of how old the people were, how many were men, how many were women, and how diverse the group was. By using blobby, purple people we were representing everyone!

The spot was coming together just great – until an overly literal AE decided purple was too much.

“We need to be more realistic in the colour for the people,” she told my art director and me. “But make sure you represent diversity and don’t offend.”

“But the animator’s estimate was based on one colour,” we countered. “We don’t have more money for more colours. And we chose purple deliberately because it was inclusive.”

“Then you need to find a new, realistic generic people colour that applies to everyone,” she said.

“There’s no such thing,” we replied.

“That’s the creative challenge,” she said, and walked away thinking she’d really done her job.

If memory serves, purple won. But only after a dozen pencil tests and focus groups to prove the point, all of which blew the budget.

In conclusion

Has anybody ever given you the old “creative challenge” challenge? Share your war stories here.

After driving out to the building, finding a spot in the $3 flat-rate parking lot, and taking the scary elevator to the fifth floor, as I’d being doing annually for the past 20+ years, I found a blank wall where there once was a door. No signage. No hint that my doctor’s office had ever been there. Just a moment straight out of “The Prisoner” – I half expected a giant bouncing ball to come down the corridor and chase me back to camp.

When I phoned the number, which hadn’t changed, the receptionist told me the office had moved six months ago to a spot much farther down the road.

“I didn’t get the move notice,” I told the receptionist, who promptly replied they hadn’t sent one. The only communications were posters they put up in the office just before the move, and an ad they put in the paper at the same time. Which would have been Christmas time. I’m sure it jumped right out from all that clutter. No doubt it was page dominant.

As a patient, I was confused, pissed, and hurt by all this. I trust the care of my health to these people, who can’t even be bothered letting me know they’re moving? It’s not like they don’t have my address. They also have my phone number. The least they could have done was double-check that I knew about the move when I called to make my appointment. I felt totally disrespected, and for a moment, considered switching doctors. I still might. Hell, my cat’s veterinarian made sure we knew when he moved!

As a communications person, I was absolutely stunned that they had missed an opportunity to engage their existing clientele and guide them through this change.  Change can elicit feelings of fear, uncertainty, and even a counterpart reaction: “Hey, maybe it’s finally time I made a change, too.” They could have positioned the move as a benefit to clients. The new free parking would have topped my list.

Maybe my doctor’s office thought doing a postcard mailing would be too expensive in terms of paper, postage, and effort. But it cost them a portion of my loyalty.

Whether you’re a dress shop, hairdresser, or a doctor, don’t assume that just because people come back out of habit, loyalty, or convenience on a regular basis means you can take their business for granted. Customer retention should always be a top priority.

So what are you doing to keep your customers loyalty?

I guess the product might have something to do with food safety? Insecticides? Eating local? Possibly even skin care? I don’t know, because I’m also guessing the art director who did that ad is still in his/her 20s and has never read Ogilvy on Advertising.

You see, I can’t read this bloody ad. It’s four colour with a very dark background and the type, which is in a very small (yet elegant font, I’m sure) is set in reverse. Even with perfect registration (which almost never happens) it’s impossible for me to read. And yes, that’s with my reading glasses on.

Now I know you young’uns out there don’t like to hear about rules and to even bring up Ogilvy is to invite comparisons to Grandpa Simpson, but let’s just take a moment to review one simple thing he had to say about typography:

“…do you think an advertisement can sell if nobody can read it? You can’t save souls in an empty church.”

Sorry banana ad – I can’t read you, and I’m not willing to try. That great visual stopped me in a good way, but then your type stopped me in a bad way. And I bet I’m not the only one.

May I suggest you visit two websites before you design again?

The first has several copies of Ogilvy available at a really great price.

http://www.amazon.ca/Ogilvy-Advertising-David/dp/1853756156

The second lets you play the “Which ad pulled best” game. Always an eye opener.

http://www.gallup-robinson.com/adgameindex.html

Let’s remember – we’re not in this business to create little works of art. We’re here to make the cash register ring.

I never seem to be prepared for the most obvious of questions. While giving a presentation a couple of weeks ago,

one of the attendees asked me “What is the most exciting project you’ve worked on in the past year?”

I should have had a simple example ready – but then I wouldn’t have given him the most honest reply.

The truth is, the most exciting project I’ve worked on recently is also one that gave me the greatest number of challenges, not as a writer, but as someone who had to deal with people. My job on this project was to create a cohesive document that included contributions from several different people – many of whom had conflicting opinions and agendas. Their very differences were supposed to be the strength of the document, as it would present a well-rounded, 360-degree view of an issue.

I’m happy to say the project got done. It gone done well. And by some miracle, it got done on time. But getting there hurt.

In a post-mortem I thought long and hard about what could have prevented (or at least minimized) the full-on ugliness. And then it hit me, I forgot to check in on the brief.

Every project, whether it’s an ad, a brochure, a radio spot, or a document, needs to have an agreed-upon brief to keep it focused and on track. In a project that went as long as this one did (months, not weeks), I should have regularly been pulling it out to remind the team of the main answers we came up with for these basic questions:

Who are we talking to?
What are we telling/selling them?
What is our most important point?
What is the goal of this communication?

As this project chugged along, some of contributors lost focus of those once-agreed-upon answers and starting writing for their own personal target markets – each of which was just a degree or two off the mark. And as any good boy scout will tell you, being off by as little as one degree will lead you way off your path eventually.

So if you’re feeling a little lost on a project, try asking the basic questions again. It may save you from tearing your hair out. Or shaving it off, in Britney’s case.

For years, I kept quiet about the fact that I had it. I thought I wasn’t normal. Or that I should just be able to shake it off and keep going. Hell, back then, I didn’t even know this problem had a name.

Others certainly never mentioned if they had it. And while there were times when I thought I detected symptoms in co-workers, I never had the courage to ask.

But now I’ve decided to break the silence and admit it: I get PPD.

PPD – also known as Post-Project/Presentation Depression – is the almost-debilitating slump one can go into after completing a project or presentation.

I imagine film crews must go through this after shooting a big movie. Suddenly one day, all your co-workers are gone and even your office has disappeared. Soldiers at war must feel it too: One day you’re involved in a life-or-death struggle, then peace finally breaks out and, even though you were hoping for it, something is missing.

Newlyweds. Stars of high-school musicals. Quarterbacks at the end of the season. Anybody recently kicked off American Idol – they must all suffer from it.

Even my computer goes through it. The intuitive email program keeps bringing up names of people I may never need to email again, just because they share a few letters in their names with others I’m emailing now. The ads I see online are all related to the last round of research I did. (They were especially interesting after the big drug book I worked on last year for Addictions Services.)

Fortunately for me, PPD doesn’t hang around very long. In fact, this morning, I got the final payment installment for my last big all-consuming project. Has it really been a month since I finished that one up? That project feels so long ago…

I’ve written my fair share of tag lines/slogans in my career. But the one I’m best known for is: “Land the plane!” (Frequently comes out as “Just land the &*^%ing plane!”)

If you haven’t had the pleasure of hearing me mutter/scream/plead this phrase, allow me to share its origins. Then you’ll know exactly what I’m saying.

“Land the plane” was born 20-some-odd years ago when I was working at CCL. We had one of those typical rush-rush projects with one day’s notice to get a campaign ready for a presentation to the client.

My regular creative partner wasn’t around for some reason, so I was partnering with one of the designers from the studio. This guy was a true artist. Creative beyond belief and talented in so many ways. Except for his ability to land the &^%*ing plane.

Early in the day we’d gotten together for a creative brainstorming about what we could do for an ad. We came up with several solid ideas, chose the mandatory three, and each went back to our desks to flesh them out.

A hour or so later I had headlines and body copy written for all three, ready to show the creative director. My designer pal, however, had used to the time to come up with several more, new ideas.

“Wow – these are great!” I thought, and instantly tossed aside the ads we’d prepared in favour of the new directions. This guy was a real pro, I figured, constantly pushing forward from good, to better, to best.

Off I went back to my desk to work out the new ideas.

But when we got back together, now in the afternoon, he still hadn’t worked up the mocks. He’d come up with several new ideas. “We could do this, or we could do that, or we could do the other thing,” he kept saying, excitedly doodling up tiny little thumbnails.

Meanwhile, the creative director was circling, wondering where our ideas were so he could vet them for the morning presentation. The account execs were also right behind him sweating blood – they wanted to know the ideas were going to be sell-able to the client and needed time to check with media about size, colour, etc.

Time was really running out. We needed to pick our best ideas, take them up to comprehensive mocks, and get them ready for presentation.

“OK Jack*,” I said. “This time we’re sticking with these three, right? We’re going to work up these three ideas for the CD.” (*Not his real name.)

“Absolutely,” he replied.

Not at all. By day’s end, with people now totally pissed that they weren’t going home, we had a new bunch of new ideas, and not a single one in a state we could even show around internally.

And so it went late into the night. Jack just kept coming up with more new ideas, while the rest of us just about went insane trying to explain to him why we needed to commit to something NOW. Any one of the ideas was bang on the money. Any one of the ideas would be great, perfect, boffo. But none of them was actually done up to size, with a headline and visual in place, so the client could understand it.

At around midnight, when Jack showed up with yet another crop of fresh thinking, I snapped and screamed: “JUST LAND THE &^%$ing PLANE, WILL YA!”

He finally got it. We did up the mocks, presented them internally, and the client even bought it. The rest of the agency hated us for the rest of the week for making them all so miserable. But I got a new catch phrase that has served me well from then on.

Feel free to use this expression if you find yourself working with someone who just won’t stick and commit. And if you hear me use this expression with you, you’ll now  know exactly what I mean.