The Cost of Creativity

It’s funny when you realise this; all my life, I have been trained not to listen to advertising budgets and just think out of the box, think different, because that’s the kick of creativity, that’s where the wildest of ideas lie. Dear God, that’s one of the first signs of an ignorant system, pushing and eventually punishing one for not being well-informed. As an individual, that’s almost like you trying to walk on water, because you feel like you have it in you to be the next Messiah. Creativity isn’t a feeling or even a talent, it is a moment. And like every moment, you need to proceed with the right questions to arrive at the right answer/s.

Questioning gets the answers. So the more we question, the more creative and effective we become, and the less we tire out or strain ourselves. The spine of accountability in advertising rises from the same philosophy — question, gauge, assess and then field a creative team. Don’t throw them into the dark, expecting them to fend for themselves and figure a way out. As creative people, we are neuro-trained to seek out qualitative answers — what’s the colour of the logo, what should be the brand tonality, who will like my post, etc. I don’t think we are trained in quantitative maths, such as am I getting paid enough, am I stretched too thin given the industry standards out there, what is my progression chart if I continue like this for the next few months. Never do we even have those thoughts in our head, why? Because we were never trained to do so. We were trained to feed the kid in our soul, not the adult who was trapped with zero financial knowledge.

When creative people crumble, people tag it as a rant, emotional outburst and mediocre to blown-up hallucinations. That’s because there’s no method to our madness, and we as individuals also, have no articulate way of putting it across that we are suffering, or that enough is enough. When creative people leave their jobs, they burn their bridges, or they leave together as a unit — with their CD/Leads, or they disappear without a fight to fix the system. And when they sit for another round of interviews at a newer place, we are told to justify why do we have sporadic stints at places that otherwise have a great reputation. Creative people are subjected to Herculean tasks in advertising agencies. We enter and exit, consciously acknowledging it, but never challenging it. Because we are told that we are unfit to work in an organised set up. Where they won't allow you in a pair of baggy jeans, or with red brazen hair or a neck full of tattoos. So we shut up and dribble.

But it's worth the time to acknowledge what actually drives the advertising fraternity forward — creativity. Not just how you use creativity to create, but also to dodge operational bullets, soak up the heat as a leader in the system or pack a punch while taking stinkers from a relentlessly bad client. Look around in your agency, you’ll see nothing but creativity in the hearts of people. And yet, the people with the creative merit badges are the ones who are afraid to question, lest they’re ridiculed as mentally unstable, factually ignorant, and generational misfits. We learnt how to get creative, but we never understood that it is not a thankless job to be an imaginative person every single day, every single time.

Advertising is the only industry that disregards your academic backgrounds and tests your communication skills to give you your first stint. After that, it is all hellfire. Sure, you’ll come across individuals who groove to your music and share the same dank memes as you do, but we disregard the bigger elephants for the smaller things that give us kicks. By the time we realise that we’ve spent too much time in advertising, it is already too late. Our focuses narrow, our disposition wears off, and we undervalue our strength as creative, resourceful people who could be doing other jobs. Fun jobs. We are driven to hell, we burn our bodies, our relationships and mental sanity, for something we are trained to think can carry our soul to the other realm — awards.

And that’s the state of most of the creative leaders in the country right now; disregarding that people could live or die, but making them work double as hard, to produce that will vanish in seconds. It is true that the creative top shot is absolutely corrupt. But it is also true that they have never measured their life’s worth, why should they measure yours? As a younger lot, we must learn to appreciate life and things of the heart and soul, and then look into things and accolades that can be won year after year or through an insider source and some convincing. If I am not a big brother to the unit that looks up to me, then I am of no use in an organisation, in an industry, as a part of the creative guild, or as an organism on the planet.

But to make this emotional connection happen in a system of 100–400 people, you need a very important thing right — contracts.

Every contract in advertising entails the seal of the devil. But you can still work out something that’s in favour of the working team. A little more money or a little more flexibility can enable some room to breathe for teams mindlessly fighting between work and life realities. This twin reality is tearing into each other and at the end of the day, when one’s work quality is compromised, one’s temple (of inner peace) is breached. During the few years building up to the pandemic, a lot of satanic clients broke free and entered several agencies, with contracts, that were due to be stained with a lot of blood. Agencies saw potential in these low paying clients, thinking that through our sheer hard work we will prove to them that we are worth every penny. And that hard work was who’s may I ask? The very first sign of a dystopian agency is its influence on people vs clients.

In the summer of 2017, I walked into an agency with the intention to stick around for a few years. Worst decision of my life, as I realised that the management worked without a spine for a few lousy clients who would get their exact articulation done on a piece of post. I left the organisation without picking up my FNF in 3 months. Some agencies are so client-loving that they disregard that there’s an entire army of human flesh and bones that is falling like flies each day. They love to return calls to a client when they call to bash at 2 in the night. And this, apparently, is the nimble culture of the place. This, coupled with the innate greed for metals, is the ultimate combo for a hysterically inefficient place that replaces its creative team in a matter of months.

So, when we are questioning the immoral principles on which agencies thrive today, especially with one such agency doing the rounds of keeping their workplace active despite peak COVID outside, we must question how far we’ve fallen from the Bernbachs and Drogas. People with zero drive to fix the industry get to rule from atop, and a ground force, insanely secluded from the realities happening on top, fistfight with each other and disappear over unforgiving briefs and projects. And my fellow creative people, it’s high time you stop listening and start speaking. Because you bring the fight to the table, and if you don’t rebel with your unapologetic red hair or unscrupulous tattoos, there will be no one to save you. Sure, in a smaller system you’ll find a brother in a boss, but there are real sharks out there, the day you venture into an agency that’s positioned as the creative haven. Sharks, that have never understood that we need to question the system and will expect you to shut up and suck up to them.

I joined this industry, because I wanted to complete my father’s incomplete dream. But with each passing day, it seems like, he would like me as a better man, yes, like the Pearl Jam song.

Look out for your brothers and sisters in these trying times, look out for your ailing mom and your failed wives, and make peace with every relation out there before this unforgiving, miserable creative journey gets the best of you.