We invented dandruff you morons

Yesterday evening I had a bit of a conundrum on my hands, you see my mother refused to let me out of the house due to my rather troublesome insomnia, whilst Richard, the probable cause of this insomnia, was hell bent on playing a few rounds of Hold ‘em. That part of things was just trouble spot one, easily put away by hosting the game at my house. But then came trouble spot two, Yash, beloved pot snatcher, could not come to my house. Richard, the much vaunted check – raiser, quickly informed me of this. After all, I couldn’t leave home and now just had to play a few hands, so I instantly called Yash and told him to come over. A few well placed words here and there and Yash, without much hesitation (I sense it has something to do with a compulsive gambling problem) agreed. My next phone call was to Richard, who was shocked and amazed that I actually got him to agree. My only words were “hell, I don’t work in advertising for nothing”

Though I hardly achieved anything at all by getting Yash to come over, the advertising industry as a whole really does convince people of some of the most ludicrous things ever. And here’s the real kicker, people actually believe it, en masse. My argument last night to have the game at my place had several logical reasons and causes, but most of what advertising churns out has neither. A lot of it in fact is utterly bogus. (think Keanu Reeves in Bill and Ted ‘bogus dude’) Let me give you a fun fact about how bogus advertising really is….

We made up dandruff. Yes, we did. Think back to the old days, the days before the 90’s, yes I know its hard cause most of you were two years old but, just try. Rely on past life memories if you have to. Now think situations that involve social stigma, yes, you know horrific disfigurement, polio, leprosy, the Indian cricket team. Yes now you’re getting the idea. Now think really hard, I know it’s difficult, you haven’t thought very hard for a while (also advertising’s fault) but just try. Try and remember where on that list of social stigmas was dandruff. Oh yeah, wait, pre 90’s dandruff wasn’t on anybody’s social stigma list. It wasn’t even comparable to being an opening batsman for India. But then something changed, rather drastically at that. We put a bunch of guys in shiny black shirts in front of your face and told you that if you had dandruff you could never wear black again!!!! “Oh my god, what a loss, now what shall I wear to Jimmy’s funeral.” But it soon became much worse than that. We got Shahrukh Khan to come on board and put his hands through his digitally enhanced hair and then a parade of other stars to do the same. Before this happened, none of us had heard of dandruff, apart from those with chronic conditions, but who cares about those losers anyways. Out of nowhere and without rhyme or reason dandruff was the only thing on everyone’s head. Actually, it had always been on everyone’s head, it was just that some idiot scientist at P&G accidentally stumbled on a way to get rid of it. They then of course had to sell this damn thing so they decided to make dandruff the worst social stigma since leprosy. We’re good people really. No, really.

A Heaven for advertising

Somewhere up there is an advertising heaven. Yes, I’m sure most people would disagree with me on this primarily because they believe that advertising’s place is a little further south, but I for one am rather convinced of an advertising after life up there. It’ll probably be an awesome place, if advertising is your cup of tea.

In fact it’ll probably be like the perfect agency. Servicing and creative get along really well, the clients are all awesome and once in a while they all sit down and do scam ads for Jesus or something. An all round fantastic day at the office, apart of course from award season where Mr. Burnett and Mr. Ogilvy engage in their own little proxy war to represent their namesake agencies. But then they both win a bunch of stuff and everything goes back to normal.

Ad heaven sounds fabulous but how does one get in, especially in this economy. No one is hiring, but that’s not entirely true. They’re just not hiring new people. They’re hiring people from other agencies. In essence their keeping the pool of talent in the advertising industry from growing hence, keeping the number of people who work in advertising the same, hence putting people like me on the street and the on the wrong side of those pearly gates.

Now I’m not saying I’m on the fast track to ad heaven. I’m not even close. But I’d like a shot at the very least. And how am I supposed to get that shot if agencies only poach people from each other and flat out refuse to give anyone else a look in. For god sake’s the new writer here used to work at Ogilvy and before that at Contract and somewhere else before that. And he’s the NEW guy. How the hell am I supposed to compete with that? Every agency just hires from each other when they want someone new and no one actually hires anyone ‘new’.

In fact they seem so against hiring new people that the time will soon come that O&M will probably go into a backroom, take an embryo out of storage, Piyush Pandey will fertilize it and voila, 18 years later you have a state of the art copy writer. Stupid genetically enhanced creatives. It’s like Gattaca all over again.

Everyone’s got problems

I have a friend named Sanjay. Well actually I don’t have a friend named Sanjay, Ritchie and me kinda made him up. But I’m sure there is someone exactly like Sanjay out there somewhere, however I doubt that very much since we thought him up as having three arms and just the one leg. It’s the funniest thing when he hops around the place. But anyway, my point is that Sanjay bitches and moans like a guy in the holocaust. Actually even dudes in the holocaust had a little more perspective than good old Mr.………..well we never did give him a last name.

For example, Sanjay continually moans about his mother having left him when he was but a child. Of course his actual mother insists that it was a maid who left that cold winter evening and not her. Sanjay still moans and bitches. Fact is that everyone loves to crib and cry about their problems and hassles and they will not be deterred by anyone else’s problems either. In fact they will hold bitching and moaning contests to prove who has the biggest problems.

Sample:

I’m fat

I’m ugly

I’m stupid

I have an abusive boyfriend

I have cancer

I’m Govinda….

Yes, clearly everyone has problems, but must you bitch and moan about them in the presence and vicinity of people who do not care? Just for future reference I’m that guy who doesn’t care. It’s not as if I’m heartless or anything, I just don’t care to hear about how that friend of yours borrowed a pen from you and then gave it to that bitch of an ex-BFF and claimed he lost it, but then you saw the pen with her and you were like ‘Oh my god’ and she was like ‘that’s my pen’ and you were like ‘No bitch that’s my pen’ and then she was like ‘you ain’t all that a bag of chips’ and you were like ‘that makes no sense’ and then both of you got distracted by a shiny ball and Miley Cyrus walked in and totally took her side.

I mean Jesus Christ, just shut up. Next time someone comes up to me talking about some inane little problem that has the all the significance of a broken nail, I will smash you. Yes, physically assault you and then you and I will truly know the meaning of real problems.

(P.S. I understand that I’ve been bitching and moaning throughout this post. Irony’s a motherfucker ain’t it.)

The canteen is trying to kill me

You know that show scrubs, yes of course you do, little sit com about a hospital. Death and medical tragedy have never been funnier. Anyway, there’s one particular character from the show that I can draw a direct reference to in my own work environment. No it’s not Cox, I wish it was Cox. It’s the damn janitor. And I swear I think the entire canteen staff is my own personal tormenting janitor.

Sure they’re real cool about it; they don’t actually make fun of me or harass me in obvious ways. It’s all a bit more subtle really, it’s all very ‘I just forgot your coffee and sandwich, and just happened to remember the bhel puri the guy next to you ordered.’ ‘Sure, happens all the time,’ I responded the first few hundred times that happened, but then I began to realize that there was more to this than just complete stupidity. They have a plan, and I’m not sure why but I’m fairly certain they hate my guts. Actually I know exactly why, I’m quite an ass hole, what I don’t know is how they know I’m an ass hole. That part escapes me. But yes, they are clearly trying to kill me.

That last sentence may have sounded extreme but when you put all the pieces of the puzzle together it becomes blatantly obvious that I will not make it out of here alive. And if they are as smart as I think they are, then my death, no matter how hard I try and evade it, will come very soon. And despite my best efforts to make an impression, I will not be missed. All of this worries me, but know this I will not let Head Canteen Guy (can’t for the life of me remember his name) and his evil henchman get the better of me. I will fight, fight till the last poisoned samosa sabhar and pav bhaji. Till the last cyanide laced Mazaa or coke. And take my last breath fist pointed in the air whilst I choke on lethal grilled sandwich.

Or I’ll just start having lunch at the bar across the street, whichever’s more convenient.

That chimp is eyeing my desk

Not too long ago, lets call it an even year and a half, I gave up on writing. Prior to that, lets say an odd year and three quarters ago, I had a keen interest in writing humour for a living. Then at some point, and I cant figure out when, I realized that I actually may be able to make a living writing for magazines and the like. I could in fact write for anyone who would let me flex my muscles and write extra long sentences with double negatives a plenty. Of course these chaps were few and far between but common enough that I could find a job and be gainfully employed. So whatever happened to writing funny little stories on some A4 glossy for the rest of my life……..fucking Neil French, that’s what happened.

I read a stupendously famous piece of copy written by a stupendously famous man named Neil French. Never heard of him, well unless you are a student of advertising or have seen me rant incessantly about the man after a few drinks, you probably wouldn’t have. But if you have been either of the above (my grave apologies if you’ve been the latter) you probably know what I’m talking about. And you probably know just to what extent I respect and admire the one time creative godfather of WPP. All that aside, at the core of all this hero worship is the idea that I wanted to be just like him, write genius advertising and win more awards than god. (Honestly, even god would have trouble racking up Lions the way this man has) and basically make a career as a copywriter. Like actual, “hey I wrote that line under the Coke logo” type stuff.

So gainful employment aside, I sit here interning at a rather prestigious agency with somewhat prestigious, but entirely dubious, clients to work on. Honest to god, I could build up my job and make myself sound really indispensable, I could make myself sound like the rise or fall of BIG TV rested entirely on my shoulders, like an agency that’s stood for 75 years could just collapse if I took a day off, like the world of advertising is waiting for my next big SMS/notifier/emailer, but in all truth a monkey could do what I do. In fact he’d probably do it with less bitching and moaning than me and might just have better ideas on selling set top boxes. I’m not even debating how much more fun he’d be around the office. But more than anything else, a monkey would bring self satisfaction to every crap piece of work he churns out, this no matter how hard I try, I cannot do. I’m used to having my work looked at; I’m used to showing it off. And I am not used to making excuses. “The client just spit out my better ideas man,” “they just don’t know good work when they see it,” and my personal favourite, “BIG is filled with a bunch of douche bags and shopkeepers.” All of these excuses are fair in some way or another, but I don’t recall ever making any excuses, ever, before I got here.

My work was always been on time and was always some measure of worthwhile. It just isn’t anymore. It’s just sorta done. I finished my work today and came home, that’s what I did today. I finished. And it just doesn’t seem like what I signed up for. I’d like to do good work, work that I can show people without having to make lame excuses for it, I want to be able to say that’s my fault if something’s screwed up. I like things that way.

I’ve spent the last week filling in for Bobo the chimpanzee for sure, but I’ve also taken time just to write. Write random things, like my versions of the Adidas campaign dedicated to my friends or things even more random than that. And I cannot describe how good that felt. Writing just for writing’s sake, with no restrictions and no client and no seniors to say ‘dumb it down.’ In fact no one at all to say shit. I’ve enjoyed that and the worst part is I’ve had that exact work environment at two previous jobs. At the time I loved it, in hind sight I loved it, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why I’m not doing it right now. But alas, I’ve only been at this for a week. Perhaps more time will show me a part of the job that isn’t quite chimpanzee like and more the task of a higher primate.

For now however, I shall have to hope that there isn’t a chimp out there with his own space on blogspot and more interesting views on adverting and the world in general. Aaahhh crap there probably is one. Oh stop being polite and go google him already……

Random guy says something

Tuesday - A man identifying himself as something or the other said a whole lot about the topic which he had chosen to talk about at the time. The incident occurred at some point during the day or night when the man decided to launch a tirade against or perhaps be sympathetic towards said topic. The speaking continued for some time or not and came to a close, we think, later on.  His audience, if indeed there was one, seemed to be there and may have been human.

This particular incident of talking is just one in a long line of incidents involving people speaking and others listening, though the latter has not always been a constant in all cases. When asked whether his current talking was in fact an attempt to emulate the talking of others, the man spoke in great detail using words that are believed to be part of a language and later proceeded to leave the room or enter one. 

BMC closes all roads to South Mumbai. “Extermination is in the works,” claims official.

Mumbai - On Tuesday, it was reported that the only known road entering south Mumbai which wasn’t yet under construction has now been excavated for unknown reasons. This was the last artery connecting South Mumbai with the rest of the city and has since left downtown entirely closed off.

This odd situation had been blamed by local area residents on the sheer and near absolute incompetence of the BMC. Richard H., a resident of Walkeshwar was quoted as saying “Listen, we all know that the BMC are cunts. We’ve known that for years, but this is ridiculous. How in the hell does an organization make it entirely impossible for me to get past Mahalakshmi.”

The story however took an entirely unexpected turn when phone lines and other utilities in and around the south Mumbai area began to crash. This made many suspicious and raised concerns about those in the area. But, those concerns were quickly put aside with the commencement of the IPL. It was only a few days later, when the Mumbai Indians began a losing streak, that people raised concerns once more. But by then it seemed that all contact with South Mumbai had been lost.

“I haven’t seen my cousin Jignesh in days. I haven’t even heard from him. I am sure there is something wrong here,” said Kamlesh Shah, a resident of Dadar with family residing in Colaba. “It’s all a government conspiracy,” says one drug addicted resident of Bandra, “they want to kill all the townies.”

The addicts’ views were echoed by an unnamed informant who in the early hours of Tuesday morning called the offices of India TV claiming that he knew of a conspiracy to kill all the inhabitants of South Mumbai. The news channel ran the story the very same day, but it being India TV, the story was pushed aside as being completely bogus.

With elections nearby the government can hardly afford such bad press and has as a counter measure created a new low cost housing plan that would ensure prime locality housing for all those yearning to stay in the south Mumbai area. “As soon as the job is done, and by that I mean the road works, all mumbaikars will have a chance to get their hands on some prime South Mumbai real estate and the government will charge a small commission of course,” said Yash Sawant, the current chief of housing and development for the BMC. “It’s a brand new strategy to beat the housing crunch and is sure to please the electorate, well what’s left of them,” he later added with a sinister grin.

The complete loss of contact with South Mumbai has worried many who claim that something fishy is surely in the works. When asked to comment on this Mr. Sawant said “that’s preposterous, if we wanted to eradicate south Mumbai we’d just claim a tidal flood knocked the place clean” he paused for a moment to make a note in his to do list and then continued, “and why would we want to kill all those people, it’s not like we have anything to gain, apart from a lot of dubiously earned money.”

-Agencies

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