Don't read this.
Two months and a week since I started this new job and things aren’t any clearer. Did I make the right choice? Am I in the right place at all or have I shot myself in the foot once again? I wish I knew but I don’t and it’s gnawing away at me. Everyday, I go to work in a daze. My colleagues must think I’m perennially uninterested which isn’t the case (well, maybe it is now but it certainly wasn’t the case when I started out). I used to have a passion for work. I used to think that work wasn’t work cos I enjoyed most of it. This place, however, is starting to get to me. I’m feeling even more disillusioned than I was in my previous agency. Make no mistake, I would still have left that place because I hate to feel exploited. I hate to have to deal with hypocrisy on a daily basis and I simply cannot stomach being told that creatives don’t matter in integrated marketing. That’s not the way it works. So what if you can come up with a brilliant marketing plan? So what if you can sell Einstein an A-bomb? You need good creative work to substantiate whatever plans you may have, to bring them to fruition. But what does it matter? I’m somewhere else now and dealing with a whole new set of problems.
I was told before I agreed to the job that this company was in the process of changing its advertising which is why they needed a new creative team. That encouraged me a lot. I wanted to be part of the process from the start. To be a pioneer, if you will. I thought that I’d get to come up with totally new DM packages. To think up campaigns that would bridge the gap between ATL and BTL. Turns out that they have a whole library of package formats just waiting to be used. We, in the local office, don’t need (or should I say, aren’t allowed) to come up with anything new because everything in that library has been tried and tested and the belief here is that if it ain’t broke, don’t fix the fucking thing.
Over here, the copywriter’s job is to localise, proofread and assign a material key to each and every item. Of course, we write product promo copy every once in awhile but even then it’s for some disgusting premium that they’re giving away. Sure, it’s a low-stress job. “In here, it’s peace of mind,” another copywriter told me on my first day, “no stress, no crazy deadlines, but you’re not gonna win awards.” I tried my best to convince myself he was joking. He wasn’t.
Being unhappy with your job puts a totally different kind of pressure on you. Whether you’re free or furiously busy, it eats away at you. It starts chiseling away at your temples. You know you’re wasting every second you spend in that office but there’s nothing you can do about it. “Yes, there is.” That’s what some people have said to me. Perhaps. And I do try occasionally. But I’ve lost it. Can’t you see? There’s no more motivation left in me to keep working on my portfolio. I saw an old lady trying to chase a bus. Her arms moved like that of a sprinter. Her legs extended such that she appeared to be trotting. But there was no discernible increase in pace. That’s how I feel. I may go through the motions every now and then (product, sketch book, mulling) but it just isn’t happening for me anymore. And then what? Once again, I wish I knew.
Every time my mom asks how my job is, I tell her that I don’t like it. I say that I’m too free. I say that it’s not what I want to do. But she doesn’t understand. To her, a job is simply that, a job. It’s something you do to earn a living. All the better if you don’t need to do anything. I wish I could think like her. Then I’d stop having to use my salary to justify my situation so often. “The job sucks but the money’s good” is something I’ve said a thousand times in the last 2 months. It’s starting to leave a bitter taste on my tongue.
Perhaps what would make life more bearable here is a buddy. Someone with whom I could talk about anything I wanted to without fear of betrayal or misunderstanding. That’s why I miss working with Suyi and Carine, two wonderful ladies I got to know in my previous agency. They were more than colleagues (now, ex-colleagues), they were (and still are) friends – always supportive, always ready to share a joke or a story or a confession or a Kit Kat. There’s Gavin and Adrian as well who provided as much banter as they did support when I was mulling over my job opportunities.
It may seem that I’m complaining about my co-workers here but I’m not. They’re mostly wonderful people to work with. So much so that sometimes, I feel like I’m working in a church. Everyone’s so friendly and helpful. It’s incredible. But there’s something lacking somewhere. Maybe I just haven’t gotten to know them well enough yet. I still can’t call them friends though I’d dearly like to.
There’s no suitable way to end this whine so I’ll just end it in the conventional manner (with a period).
I was told before I agreed to the job that this company was in the process of changing its advertising which is why they needed a new creative team. That encouraged me a lot. I wanted to be part of the process from the start. To be a pioneer, if you will. I thought that I’d get to come up with totally new DM packages. To think up campaigns that would bridge the gap between ATL and BTL. Turns out that they have a whole library of package formats just waiting to be used. We, in the local office, don’t need (or should I say, aren’t allowed) to come up with anything new because everything in that library has been tried and tested and the belief here is that if it ain’t broke, don’t fix the fucking thing.
Over here, the copywriter’s job is to localise, proofread and assign a material key to each and every item. Of course, we write product promo copy every once in awhile but even then it’s for some disgusting premium that they’re giving away. Sure, it’s a low-stress job. “In here, it’s peace of mind,” another copywriter told me on my first day, “no stress, no crazy deadlines, but you’re not gonna win awards.” I tried my best to convince myself he was joking. He wasn’t.
Being unhappy with your job puts a totally different kind of pressure on you. Whether you’re free or furiously busy, it eats away at you. It starts chiseling away at your temples. You know you’re wasting every second you spend in that office but there’s nothing you can do about it. “Yes, there is.” That’s what some people have said to me. Perhaps. And I do try occasionally. But I’ve lost it. Can’t you see? There’s no more motivation left in me to keep working on my portfolio. I saw an old lady trying to chase a bus. Her arms moved like that of a sprinter. Her legs extended such that she appeared to be trotting. But there was no discernible increase in pace. That’s how I feel. I may go through the motions every now and then (product, sketch book, mulling) but it just isn’t happening for me anymore. And then what? Once again, I wish I knew.
Every time my mom asks how my job is, I tell her that I don’t like it. I say that I’m too free. I say that it’s not what I want to do. But she doesn’t understand. To her, a job is simply that, a job. It’s something you do to earn a living. All the better if you don’t need to do anything. I wish I could think like her. Then I’d stop having to use my salary to justify my situation so often. “The job sucks but the money’s good” is something I’ve said a thousand times in the last 2 months. It’s starting to leave a bitter taste on my tongue.
Perhaps what would make life more bearable here is a buddy. Someone with whom I could talk about anything I wanted to without fear of betrayal or misunderstanding. That’s why I miss working with Suyi and Carine, two wonderful ladies I got to know in my previous agency. They were more than colleagues (now, ex-colleagues), they were (and still are) friends – always supportive, always ready to share a joke or a story or a confession or a Kit Kat. There’s Gavin and Adrian as well who provided as much banter as they did support when I was mulling over my job opportunities.
It may seem that I’m complaining about my co-workers here but I’m not. They’re mostly wonderful people to work with. So much so that sometimes, I feel like I’m working in a church. Everyone’s so friendly and helpful. It’s incredible. But there’s something lacking somewhere. Maybe I just haven’t gotten to know them well enough yet. I still can’t call them friends though I’d dearly like to.
There’s no suitable way to end this whine so I’ll just end it in the conventional manner (with a period).
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