Ascension is the word that best describes what I imagined a career in advertising looked like. I thought the hard part was simply about getting off the ground. Once you did, you turned into a 747, rocketing unapologetically towards your goals. But after entering the industry, I realized there were very few 747s. Plateauing at 10,000 feet was far more common. And to my surprise, some people actually exploded mid-air. Public failures, emotional breakdowns, substance abuse or bad behavior was often the cause. One minute they were flying high, the next they were debris, completely out of the industry. To ascend in advertising, you have to be able to withstand a lot of bouts with turbulence. I was fueled with optimism and grandiose dreams when I encountered them, so I thought I’d be fine. But the strangest thing happened. I began to nose dive.
In my late 20s, after 9/11, the world changed. Life felt heavier, more serious, and so did I. We had endured a terrorist attack, one I experienced watching TV beside my coworkers.. The country was at war and anti-war protests were in the streets. I remember visiting a website daily that had two scrolling tickers. One tracked the billions of dollars being spent on the war, the other tracked the thousands of soldiers dying in it. The magnitude of it all weighed on me. I started to feel like I should be doing something, something more meaningful. I wasn’t alone. I’ll never forget the day one of my ad school classmates came to work and announced he was quitting, not just his job, but the industry altogether. Why? He explained he was joining the Army and heading to war. While I wasn’t looking to make a choice that drastic, I understood what led him there. Like him, I began to put my job and industry under a microscope, and I didn’t like what I saw.
I began to hate my job and all things advertising. I hated how unseen and unheard I felt at work. I hated there was no mentorship anywhere in sight. I hated how disconnected I felt from the work, the department, the industry. Most of all, I hated how frivolous it all felt. Going to another agency couldn’t fix this feeling. I needed a new career. I sent out resumes to Hallmark, I used my connections at music publications and started taking on freelance writing assignments. I even considered going back to school, NYU’s screenwriter program. Nobody could see it, but I was nose diving and the ground was approaching quickly.
I was going through a personal transformation. Something was missing in my life and I was unhappy I couldn’t find what I was looking for at work, despite spending so many nights and weekends there. So I started searching for it in other places. I attended live performances. I read a lot, watched tons of films and dissected song lyrics. I wrote profusely, entering one of the most prolific writing stages of my life. I blogged five times a week, writing articles and essays on everything from politics to the state of homelessness in America. I wrote poems and spent a lot of time on the open mic poetry scene. Performing my words, on stage, 3-4 times a week into the wee hours of the night was the therapy I so badly needed. I met new friends, new comrades and began to feel a part of a community of dynamic artists and activists. Together, we did volunteer work, in neighborhoods and at schools, working with at risk youths, participating in programs to end violence, feed kids and raise money. I found a world beyond the walls of the ad agency, where I could use my creative mind to solve new problems, ones that mattered. Consequently, I began to feel better.
Infiltrate - enter or gain access to (an organization, place, etc.) surreptitiously and gradually, especially in order to acquire secret information.
The standout moment during that period was the night I went to an Ice T speaking engagement. Most people know Ice T as the actor or hip hop legend. Few know Ice T the author and public speaker. On this night, he gave a talk about how he successfully moved from street life to the legal hustle of acting. His speech highlighted his internal conflict. He could act, but he wasn’t an actor. He was making money in Hollywood, but he wasn’t interested in being Hollywood. His entire life had been built on being authentic and he didn’t see a need to suddenly start pretending. Resolving that inner conflict forced him to create a new narrative, His solution? “'I’m not Hollywood, I infiltrated Hollywood.” This was a light bulb moment for me. I didn’t have a work problem as much as an inner conflict. I liked the creative platform and ability to make a living that advertising provided, but I wasn’t some ad guy. Just making ads for a living would never be enough for me. I needed to find a higher purpose, a WHY. And that weekend, I did.
When I went back to work, I went back to the same industry, same office problems. But for the first time in a long time, I had a new mindset. I went back with a WHY. I don’t really feel a need to share it here, but it continues to motivate me and keep me focused during the most trying circumstances. I also went back with creative outlets beyond the job. Those outlets allowed me to not feel as beat up when I spent late nights and weekends working on something that didn’t come to fruition. Work was work. I was earning a salary not saving the world. I could still create things that made me happy, things that felt like they mattered, outside of work. I know, small tweaks. But when all the warning lights are blinking and you’re quickly losing altitude, the right tweaks, even small ones, can restore your mental health and save your career.
The lesson? Young creatives are passionate, emotional beings. The world around them and their work environment plays a huge part in their outlook on life. They need a support system and sometimes, the mentorship and advice they need won’t be found at work. If you feel like you’re starting to nose dive, the first step is to tell people. If you feel your bosses aren’t a supportive set of ears, start chirping to family, friends, trusted advisors. Feeling the power of a support system can be rejuvenating. Also find your WHY. Your WHY will fuel you and help you maintain a focused, positive perspective. Finally, although work gets the lion share of your creative output, make sure it doesn’t get everything. Continue to make things in your personal time that bring you joy, make you money or simply make the world a better place. Happiness is not our circumstances, it’s our mind state. So make sure you’re doing things that make you smile. One luv.