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Art = Work

Don’t Know if I’ll be Back Again…

a post on Professional Life

12/06/2008 · Dallas, TX · Dearest Advertising: It’s not me; it’s you. We have been rapidly growing apart, lately, and it is due mainly to your obstinate and dedicated grip to the way things used to be.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love hearing your old stories as much as anybody, but, ultimately, they echo of fiddles on the Titanic. I am sorry, but I am too young to die drowned in memories and old habits. When we first met, you filled me with ideas and inspiration, and I thought that we would grow old together, sharing adventures and laughs. My plans for us had me spending late nights and even weekends away from my wife, just trying to get to know you better; believing in a future where we could be an integral part of each other. Your plans, though, cast me as another conquest, to be used up for my talents and then marginalized for the next kid that can say all the sweet words you love to hear.

Leaving, on a jet plane…

Far be it for me to criticize your lifestyle. I understand the appeal. But now I see that it is undoing all the relationships around you, including ours, and blinding you to the sea change. Whatever it is that is motivating you now, be it fear, or just plain arrogance, it is rotting you thoroughly.

Don’t try to stop me, I have already moved on. I have moved to a place where I don’t insult people’s collective intelligence, and where content wins over any silly management scheme. In this brave new outlook, I can be about something, and maintain principles without price tags. My new perspective allows for open and honest communications with those around me, without sounding like some marketing boob. What I do has relevance, and is no longer forced to run through your gauntlet of power points and committees. My voice can have clout based solely on the effectiveness of my efforts, and is not muted by titles, rank, or any other sort of “earning of stripes”.

I wish the same freedom for you; I really do. From my new perspective I see that you are doing to yourself what you were doing to me, and for some reason you are proud of it. That being said, I cannot wait around as your guarded attitude towards change and your prestidigitatorial billing practices cripple you. I can no longer idle myself, hoping that you will one day shake off the thick fog of your own fanciful prestige.

So, I am done. Thanks for the good times. I will try to remember them.

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