Fickle

For the first time in months, I’m sitting at my desk and not hyperventilating. It’s odd. Like I’m forgetting to do something. I’ve checked the Calendar on Outlook a dozen times since the morning and no, everything’s accounted for.

No fires to fight, no last minute scripts to write, no stupid people to explain processes to. I feel lost.

This must be the eye of the storm. The worst is yet to come. There will be blood.

That’s all that’s going through my mind.

We were talking over lunch about how working here is better than working in a traditional ad agency. The hours are definitely more appealing (we leave at 6.30 sharp). But everything else isn’t. Most days, I feel more like I’m working in a fire department than in an office.

After all, it’s a volume-based business we’re in now. The point being to sell as much media as possible, and if we’re going to have to throw in a few free ads, why the hell not?

My ten months here have done nothing for my portfolio. I’m pretty sure that’s not going to change, especially when we spend half our time coordinating radio productions, and the other half explaining to people why they’re stupid.

Oh sure, it’s great when you punch in the numbers, file the bag and close the job. But it’s more relief than satisfaction. Something closer to “I’ve survived” rather than “I’ve achieved”.

So, for the first time in a long time, I’m sitting here wondering what I really want. I left agency life because I was sick of it, and now, here I am thinking of embracing it once again.

Fickle-minded as usual.