No Shoes? No Problem

Apparently, BBDO does not follow the no shirt – no shoes – no service rule:

BBDO acquires Barefoot

The Puppet Agency

This site’s videos are too funny:

The Puppet Agency

Thanks to Moses Chang for pointing it out to me.

BBDO to sell printers?

BBDO Becomes Reseller of HP Printers

INTERPOL for advertising?

This post came to me from a new contact over at BBDO. She’s got a theory that’s worth sharing with those of you who are on the creative side of the business and/or have ever been out hunting for a new agency job.

“Okay. I am COMPLETELY convinced of something.

You may thing this is contrived, but for those who know, KNOW.

For those of you who are in advertising, you know how close-knit everyone and everything is. You know someone who knows someone who knows someone…its a vicious circle. I GUARANTEE you if we played a 14-hour game of six degrees of separation, we could find a way to link EVERYONE in advertising, all the way down to the 1st quarter student at The Circus.

I’m convinced that there is an undisclosed INTERPOL (International Criminal Police Organization) for advertising. Once you fill out your information at a portfolio school or internship, your name is inserted into a secretive database that’s kept in a private cave in upstate New York. Satellite offices? North-west Chicagoland area, Bay Area outside San Fran and a new one opening up in the west suburb of Miami.

Information is shipped off and entered… and when a person is looking for a job, they check out the agency and send off their book. The PR person goes downstairs in a stale, dark, secured room, entering only with a retinal scan and tissue sample. She has to take off her shoes and put her hair in a cap to prevent any static…she enters the room and types in your name, direction and current phone number. Then a green and black grid of the world pops up on the screen while the computer beeps LOADING. The screen scrambles for a second and pulls up your name, SSN, logo identity, website, Dan Balser and Norm Grey’s comments from EVERY class you took, your grades all the way back to Sylvia’s class and a video clip of your graduation speech. A few swift keystrokes and the mystery woman sees every agency that you’ve submitted your .pdf too, emailed, stopped by, and met with at a portfolio review.

A few more keystrokes and she can see every comment about you every agency has said behind your back after they told you “We’re in a holding pattern at the moment…” She reaches for the mouse to her right, and scrolls down and briefly nods to herself as she reads the comments. As she reaches the bottom of the page, a computer prompt pops up. “WOULD YOU LIKE TO ADD YOUR OWN COMMENT?” A tap of “OK” and off she goes, typing in what each ECD, CD, PR and whatever person had something to say about you, said. She hits what I assume to be Apple+S and “SAVING…” flashes across the screen. A few seconds later, she clicks “OK” and exits the program. She smiles slightly to herself as she swivels out of the cold, backless, metal chair, presses her palm against the access pad and shuffles back to her desk to throw you, your hard spent education money AND your book into a pile of faceless numbers and codes.

And THAT friends, is my theory.

Any objectors?”