Komodo Dragons In The Boardroom

So, here we are. Everybody in the office seems to be carrying a baby of some age or other, there's a Komodo dragon wandering around the board room, and I'm eating smoked salmon sandwiches and drinking Champagne. That can only mean that today is the Agency Kids' Christmas Party (my favourite day of the Agency year - all the Agency offspring come in, there's an Animal Man, there's a Magician...), which can, in turn, only mean that we've reached the end of the year.

2009 has been quite a year for AdLand Suit. That goes without saying, I suppose, given that he/it/I didn't exist a year ago. Something that I started back in March (Feb?) because I had a spare ten minutes and I was fed up of reading snarky comments on Scamp and elsewhere about the lack of Account Man blogs turned, quite unexpectedly, into something quite big. People read it. You read it. I really wasn't expecting you to. But you did. And you left comments, some of which were nice, some of which were a little bit fuckwitty, all of which were hugely appreciated. Then Campaign wrote about it. And then we made three and a half grand for charity. And came out. (X-Factor also happened. But the less said about that, the better. Damn you, Snaggletooth.) I haven't posted as much recently, because I genuinely haven't had the chance, or the energy, for reasons that will become clear when you see the slew of new work on Halifax that will appear in January.

But I will in the new year. Promise. I'll probably even write some stuff between Christmas and New Year, and then stagger the posting of it - you know, like a PROPER BLOGGER. (I don't really believe Proper Bloggers exist. It feels like that sort of organisation would go against the very nature of blogging. But anyway.)

Here's hoping that 2010 is a slightly more fun year for advertising, and for life in general. Let's face it, 2009 sucked on quite a few levels, and in quite a lot of ways on those levels, but it does feel like we hit the bottom a couple of months back. Whilst we might not be quaffing champagne (ironically, of course, I am currently quaffing champagne) and building castles out of cocaine (like what they used to do in the olden days) any time soon, it feels like a bit of the buzz is coming back. Let's make 2010 a good 'un. I'll see you all for Lunch.

Right. I have to dash, as the magician's starting (I wasn't joking about today being my favourite day of the Agency year - seriously, they've already had the Animal Man in already (THERE'S A KOMODO DRAGON IN THE BOARDROOM) - but quickly, before I go, one last top tip to tide you over 'til new year:

If you ever find yourself at the Agency Kids' Christmas Party, don't over-indulge on the free-flowing Champagne. If you do, you'll find yourself more than a little refreshed by mid-afternoon, which can cause your evening's plans to come crashing down around your ears. I learned this last year. And, as you might have guessed, it was all my fault when they did. I'm still in trouble with a lot of people for that one. The bastards.

Happy Christmas, chaps. You're all lovely. See you in 2010.

PS As a quick bonus, here's the worst Xmas song (opinion author's own, but also completely true) every made:

And here's the best. Happy Christmas!

A Thank You On Behalf Of Marie Curie

I've been meaning to write this post (along with a bunch of others) for a while now - but while the others can wait (they will, after all, just be me blathering on about ads, advertising, things that are your fault, or people who don't know the difference between 'less' and 'fewer', the fuckwits), this one really shouldn't. What's more, it's short. And quite nice.

Last month, I did that whole reveal thing, which went rather better than I expected it to. After a few beers and some enthusiastic reassurance had persuaded me to up my target from £500 to £1,000, I somehow managed to raise an astonishing £3,586.63 for Marie Curie Cancer Care.

I don't use the word 'astonishing' lightly - people who are running marathons and climbing mountains have to lobby for months to raise a couple of thousand pounds, while I managed it in 4 days, and all I've done is blather on about advertising on here (see above) and swear about (amongst other things) cricket and X-Factor on twitter.

The truth is, of course, that I didn't really do anything - you lovely people did it all. I won't list the names of everyone who contributed here (they're here if you want to have a look - and why not chuck in a fiver while you're there?) as it wouldn't make for the most exciting of reads, but they know who they are, and I hope they know how grateful I am. I'm particularly grateful to Campaign for writing about it/me, to Elika for (a) publicising it almost as tirelessly as I did, but mostly for (b) listening to me wang on about it endlessly before, during and after the event, to the quite wonderful anonymous donators who were responsible for more than half of the total, and last but very much not least, to the lovely folk that turned up to the pub to get stupidly drunk on a variety of spirits to celebrate the good thing that we did.

Thank you all. You are ace. Proper ace. More stupid ideas, and drunken celebrations thereof, will be forthcoming. Promise.

Quick Hiatus

In contrast with tradition, this, which is both a warning of and apology for a brief hiatus in posting, comes halfway through said hiatus. As those of you unfortunate to follow me on twitter will be aware, I've been on a shoot for the last week, am back in the office today, then back to the shoot 'til the end of the week.

As those of you unfortunate enough to follow me on twitter will also know, the above picture is very, VERY ironic. A half-empty plate of biscuits and a run-down tower block would be much more appropriate. Anyway.

So, crack on, drink on, December on, and I'll be back wanging on about all things Suity, thanking everyone who's already donated to Marie Curie (and haranguing those who haven't) and talking about the lovely people I met last week before you know it.

So - Here I Am

Well. There it is. ALS's enormous (literally, rather than figuratively) head. ALS's face. ALS's rather large, if slightly nervous, grin.

Except my name isn't really AdLand Suit. That would have been a coincidence too far.

No. My name's Dan Shute, and I'm a Board Account Director at Delaney Lund Knox Warren. (Which, interestingly, is an agency that garnered precisely zero votes when we did a 'Where Does ALS Work?' poll, many moons ago.)

So, that's that. You know who I am. Secret's out. I guess the main question to answer now is 'What's next?' - so here we go.

Essentially, nothing will change. My employers haven't known about ALS until now, but the fact that they now do isn't going to change the things I write, or the way I write about them. I believe in the importance of what I've been doing here as much if not more than I did when I started this blog, and I definitely believe in the importance of the role Suits have to play more than ever. So why would I stop?

One of the joys of blogging and twitter is that you're only as entertaining, interesting or engaging as the ideas that you have and the words that you write - job titles or celebrity status hold no real truck, you stand or fall on the quality of the words you write, and the relevance and power of what you're writing or tweeting about. For whatever reason, a lot of people have come to care about what I write here, and have come to enjoy reading it. I'm incredibly proud of the number of people who read my nonsense, and who care enough to comment and share it. So why would I change?

Furthermore, as I've tried to point out in the past, this isn't an anonymous blog so much as a pseudonymous blog. AdLand Suit is not a character - he's not Dave Knockles, as brilliant as Dave Knockles undoubtedly is. AdLand Suit is me, writing in my voice, sharing my views, on things that I care about, and things that I think are important. The only difference now is that you know my real name. AdLand Suit is still here, and he's still writing. So why would anything else change?

And that's that. All that remains for me to say is thank you to the small number of people that have helped me keep this a (kind of) secret up 'til now, and that I remain in awe at the amount of goodwill, collaboration and, ultimately, cash for a good cause this blog and its accompanying (and much more sweary) twitter feed has generated - you're all fucking awesome, and Elika and I will be in the Perseverance on Lamb's Conduit Street this Wednesday evening (December 2nd) from 8.30pm, if anyone (or indeed everyone) fancies stopping by. First round's on me.

Oh, and you absolutely have to keep contributing here. Marie Curie is still an awesome cause, and we've already made a fantastic amount of money, but if each of you donate a couple of quid (or even a solitary quid, if that's all you can afford), then we'll have done a brilliant thing. I'll do a proper post on the donation at the end of the week, rather than try and wrap it up in this.

I'll see you all at the bar. Cheers.

Who is AdLand Suit, And What Happens Next?

Well, needless to say I'm completely blown away by the reaction to my potential unmasking. As has been suggested elsewhere, I was a little nervous about how well this would go, to the point where I ummed and aahed about whether or not £500 would be a more realistic target, before thinking 'fuck it', and optimistically plumping for a grand. And now, here I am, with more than £3k made for Marie Curie after only four days. You're all brilliant.

So, what happens next? Two things:

1. The unmasking. I'm not a man to break a promise, so with the target well and truly smashed, you will all know who I am this week. I can't say exactly when yet (I need to check a couple of things with work) but I'll be able to confirm tomorrow. At the same time, I'll give you all a pub and an evening when Elika and I will be there, and invite everyone to come down and get merrily Xmas-trashed, happily celebrating that we've all been part of something really quite brilliant.

2. The donations MUST continue. Whilst the amount we've raised so far is incredible, a large proportion of that has come from one or two wonderful people, and we still have an opportunity to do so much more. I'm not asking for a lot of money - if you can only afford to donate £1, then just donate £1. If you can afford a bit more, then donate that. I'm so proud of how this has gone, but there's scope to do even better. Every penny to a fantastic cause is hugely appreciated, both by me and the guys at Marie Curie, so if you haven't yet had the chance then get involved here.

And I'll see you all for a beer very soon. Hell yeah.

Who Is AdLand Suit?

So. The time has come. I'm taking off the mask. Or, I suppose, growing a head.

After not really that many months, I'm going to be shedding my anonymity. It's a decision I've taken for a number of reasons, not least of which being my growing frustration with my inability to actually meet up with any of the people I've got to know through this little endeavour. (I'm also sick of signing emails 'ALS', and am convinced I'm going to get it wrong at some point, but that's another story.)

Now, I'm fairly conscious that any kind of big reveal is ultimately going to prove a little underwhelming - it's an eternal truth that having a mystery is always at least fifteen times more enjoyable than solving one. But I had an idea.

I'd like to try and do something nice, and (brace yourself) worthwhile with this thing. As such, I've set up a Just Giving page (which you can find here), and am accepting donations for Marie Curie Cancer Care, a genuinely brilliant charity. When the donations reach £1,000 (or rather, IF the donations reach £1,000...) I'll come clean. AdLand Suit will have a head.

I know. Weird.

As well as that, I'll also be taking the highest individual donator out for Lunch, at a restaurant that I suppose should probably be The Ivy (though be warned - I will try and persuade you to go for St John).

Obviously enough, I need your help. Lots of little donations is the best way forward, and that's only going to help if enough people know that it's going on. So tell people. Tell everyone. Tweet about it. Blog about it. Tell your mum about it. And then, hopefully, we'll be able to do something really quite lovely.

And, most importantly, I'll FINALLY be able to buy you all a beer. Which will be awesome.

Quick Sunday Evening Tip

I received one of the best pieces of advice I've ever been given about 5 years ago now, shortly after I'd joined the Agency where I still am to this day. I was working with a female Account Director whom I'd already gathered had a reputation for being a bit of a ball-breaker. As it turned out, not only was she damn good, but she was also lovely - to be clear though, that doesn't in any way mean that the ball-breaker reputation was undeserved.

I was, in many ways, a typical male account manager. Overflowing with big ideas and impatient for promotion, recognition and some kind of acknowledgement of my own brilliance, I didn't really have time for 'organisation', or 'planning' or any of those other things that I'd already really rather leave to the Account Exec. Needless to say, I was set straight on this pretty sharpish. Frankly, I needed a slap, and I got one.

But that wasn't the advice - that's just a fact of life. As I believe I've touched on once or twice elsewhere, if you're not buttoned down and organised, things will go wrong, and when anything goes wrong, it is your fault, even if it isn't. Because everything is.

No, the advice was much simpler than that - three short words that I've never forgotten, and that served me extremely well as an AM and to this day:

Get in early.

Or, to build on that slightly, get in earlier than your Account Manager, Account Director, or anybody who's likely to look at your desk and wonder where you are.

There are two main reasons for this. The first is practical: 8am to 9am is the best time to get anything done. Your phone is likely to be ringing less (you can certainly guarantee that you won't be disturbed by any creatives or TV producers), and as such you'll be able to get all of the niggly, irritating, admin-heavy work done, which will enable you to spend the day doing the good stuff. (Trust me, having to miss a creative briefing because you need to sort out the billing spreadsheet is not a good result for you or anyone else.)

The second reason is simply that it looks good. It looks good to your AD when he or she has to call ahead because something needs doing and you're there to do it, and it looks good to your Client when he or she calls the Agency at 8.05 expecting to have to leave a message. (Be aware - while a Client's day may often end earlier than yours, it also tends to start at 8am on the dot. And you'd be amazed how much a Client will respect a Suit who's at his or her desk at the same time as them.)

So there it is. Be at your desk at 8am. Sort out the billing spreadsheet. Update status. Do your timesheets. Get all and any admin out of the way so that you can focus on the fun stuff for the rest of the day. Impress people. And, if you really have nothing else to do, read blogs, and learn about ads. Because making room for that in your day is as important a part of your job as writing good contact reports. And 8am is the best time to do it. Promise.