In 1998 I worked albeit briefly for Bozell, a large ad agency started just before prohibition hit. My role was and had been that year to clean up other people's work. This translated into a concoction of design, art production, editing and keeping my mouth shut. Being an art director or less in New York is not a creative position. You may at times be creative, but your final work is combed over and distilled by others more creative at least in their minds than you.
I was called in on a Tuesday at 4pm to start at Bozell on thet very same Tuesday at 4pm. "How fast can you get down there" my agency coordinator barked. 30 minutes with this heads up. The response -- "get there in 15".
On the 12th floor of this antiquated shanty building I found few windows and fewer smiles. The carpeting way past its warranty was one of the newest items in the office. I made my way through large CRT screen yards to the production office. As I peered in it became all too obvious that there was no seat available. The production manager approached.
"Wait here" he motioned and went to retake his money seat. To me a seat meant a paycheck as long as there was one to be had. Suddenly phones rang and each person, artist or otherwise got up and left the room. I stood in the corner bemused.
Within 2 minutes art combatants started to return, each saying the oddest 3 words I could imagine. "I got fired". Within 6 minutes everyone in the room had been expurgated from the Bozell workforce. With no emotion or fanfare the production editor looked up, smiled and said. Sit anywhere you like.
I lasted til Thursday.
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