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“Don’t tell my mother I’m in advertising—she thinks I play the piano in a brothel.”
Jacques Séguéla—the “S” in Euro RSCG—humorously wrote this for the title of his autobiography. It’s one perspective, but what if your parental figure actually worked in the industry? I asked the question on LinkedIn and discovered a whole world of ad kids.
It’s a subject close to my heart. Some of my earliest memories are from when my dad (then the MD of Leo Burnett New Zealand) would take me into the agency on the weekend. It was the only time I was allowed to drink soda, so I’d immediately bypass the bowl of apples at reception and go straight to the Sprite—an agency client.
Hyped up on sugar, I was free to wander the hallways, darting into some poor creative’s office to let loose on their rainbow shelves of spirit markers. I was probably high on the fumes, but it sure was fun!
Even though we’re grown, it seems the majority of us who grew up in advertising retains a bit of that childlike wonder in the day-to-day.
Kate Chulay grew up with a family in the biz. “My whole life, I’ve heard countless stories from mom about how she couldn’t believe she was being paid for something that didn’t even feel like work.”
The toughest copy assignment of my life was writing my dad’s obituary. But what a privilege to get to tell it, and to truly understand the path he’d taken.
Kate remembers meeting Jack in the Box on set as a kid. Today, she’s an account supervisor here at Chiat, where Jack has just come back home.
We’re also self-confessed ad nerds. Our study starts at a very young age as we pick apart campaigns at the dinner table or watch the Super Bowl for the ads.
Jack Rogosin, a senior copywriter at McCann and a third-generation creative, agrees: “When the time came for junior roles, I found myself with this wonderful historical knowledge of the industry that really helped me find my own tone of voice and lane.”
As it gets harder to attract and retain talent, agencies shouldn’t forget that we have the ability to inspire the next generation from a very young age. For a start, we can throw an epic party.
It’s the stuff kids don’t forget. I’ll always remember the early ’80s Christmas party where I got a rock star Barbie from Santa (who looked strangely similar to the agency president).
At Chiat’s Halloween party, we have a working train that takes kids around the agency. What a perfect opportunity to imprint the fun of creativity on our wee guests.
Sometimes the best life lessons masquerade as phrases on agency swag. “When you reach for the stars, you may not quite get one, but you won’t come up with a handful of mud either”—that’s a Leo Burnett moniker forever etched in my vocabulary.
Martin Insua is a creative director at Chiat who grew up with a dad in the biz. Today, Martin’s a dad himself.
I hope we’ll get to a time where bringing your kids into the office becomes the norm again. Maybe Martin’s boys will absorb the words on our walls: “Do the brave thing,” or “Be more human (and if in doubt) be more dog.”
For those of us who’ve grown up in this world, we’ve realized a level of support there, whether we’ve asked for it or not.
Kathleen Swanson is CD at Maximum Effort and comes from an entire family of ad folk. “When I started getting campaigns sold, mom wanted to see the bid, dad wanted to see the boards, my grandmother wanted to see casting. But all of their experience and support have helped me keep things in perspective, even when it gets hard.”
No matter what, there’s something pretty damn special about having someone close to you who gets what you do.
When Martin won at Cannes, the first person he called was his father. When he shared the news, his dad “cried like a newborn.”
Growing up, my dad and I would often butt heads—a typical account versus creative showdown, perhaps. But as I grew older and my dad retired, I realized he would relish our conversations. Even on days when I’d moan about a tough client or the long hours, he would remind me how great the industry is and how privileged we are to work in it.
After dad was diagnosed with cancer, our phone conversations covered every single minutiae of my day. Those little details seemed to be what got him through chemo and surgeries.
The toughest copy assignment of my life was writing my dad’s obituary. But what a privilege to get to tell it, and to truly understand the path he’d taken.
Ad parents, consider this: Yes, this job can be exceedingly tough. But it can also be incredibly rewarding.
Most of the folks I spoke to would support their children if they choose to go into the business. They acknowledge that times have changed.
Many of our parents worked at a time when people weren’t chained to a laptop or mobile phone 24/7. But the stuff of magic that we all saw from a young age—that doesn’t change.
And hey, if all else fails, maybe your kids can take up the piano. I hear some places are hiring.
