Horror Stories!
I was asked recently by Rita Sue Siegel of reknown Rita Sue Siegel Resources to help contribute to story she was writing for CA Magazine. While the subject of the story changed at the last minute, I thought it might be fun to share the piece I had prepared initially.
It goes something like this:
Polishing a turd. Putting a dress on a pig.
Whatever your choice of metaphors, sometimes developing creative for your company is anything but creative. Sometimes, those efforts are dictated by the myopia of a "creative director trapped in a corporate executive's body". I can barely keep count of the number of times I've presented strategically sound concepts supported by volumes of research and case studies only to have a senior executive push aside their EBIDTA report and begin scribbling their own ideas on the nearest sheet of unused paper. I can even remember one instance where I was instructed to leave the office and fetch some paper so we could capture this moment of brilliance in real time.
There was the time when I learned that nothing is too ridiculous if the right executive thinks of it. Though I've tried desperately to block it out, I have a memory of a time when I was charged with developing packaging for a new series launch. Already having the plan boards with marker renderings approved, I spent the better part of two days pouring over the headshots for literally dozens of child models (ages 4-6). With an arsenal of 8-10 recommendations in my pocket, I went to our EVP for his input and approval. To my surprise, he quickly agreed with my decisions and gave me the green light to move forward with booking and photography. Of course, now in hindsight, I realize the speed and ease of his decision should have been a sign of things to come.
After a few days in the studio and a few more engaged in the arduous task of retouching, we were ready to present the completed layout to executive management. My false sense of security left me unprepared for what was to happen next. As it turned out, in those few days he was left unsupervised, my esteemed EVP had taken it upon himself to shoot some lovely shots of his nephew from an unthinkable number of angles. Painful as this may be, try to imagine my surprise when this normally intelligent man demanded that we put his nephew's head on another child's body and do so from the pictures he had taken in his poorly lit living room with his 6 year old, -5 megapixal, consumer-side, digital camera.
After a hefty dose of adrenaline, the paramedics finally got my hear beating again and we continued our conversation about the challenges in his decision. Normally, I was able to combat those moments of synaptic break by asking if such a decision would actually increase or decrease sales and, if not, it was probably unnecessary and our efforts should be focused on those items that would. This, however, was a different situation and called for an approach I was hoping would resonate more clearly with someone proudly displaying a MBA on the wall behind his large, leather captain's chair.
Pulling from every justifiable position in my repertoire, I described the how this decision would impact margin by increasing development costs due to extensive retouching and image work, seriously impact our speed-to-market timing and jeopardize other projects in the pipeline because resources would require reallocation to support this decision. Alas, it all fell on deaf ears and, like it or not, we were going forward.
I'm afraid this is not where the story ends, however. During the course of this package development, "franken-baby", as he became lovingly named, continued to develop as we were commanded by the now evil doctor himself to use body parts from a multitude of images including individual fingers and feet from other shots and post-photographic wardrobe changes. At the end of all this image manipulation, the final was an amalgamation of more than a dozen different images and three separate models.
Finally approved, and with what I thought was the worst behind us, we released artwork for production. Days later the composite proofs arrived. Already a week behind in our production schedule, another round of executive lunacy was about to take place.
Without any apparent warning, we experienced an "executive drive-by". You know what those are, right? That's when one of the executive's takes a random trip through parts of the building he/she had only seen during the initial facility lease negotiation, but now travels every so often just to wreak havoc on those that reside in those unexplored regions. I have since learned to lock and barricade the doors, windows and air vents leading into our area.
With proofs exposed, vulnerable and in the process of review, this apparently seemed like the perfect opportunity for an executive decision to be made with wide and sweeping changes to positioning copy, benefits statements and even the product name itself. Yes, you read that correctly. A once beautifully designed concept, perfectly aligned to a documented brand strategy, was now becoming an abomination of all things aesthetically reasonable.
We re-wrote feature and benefit copy; making them linguistically unwieldy. We added an assortment of star bursts and violators to redundantly call attention to features already communicated visually and in manifesto-style bullet copy. We adjusted the size and scale of front panel hero shots. We even added a litany of inset images because the bullet copy and violators just weren't enough. At one point, I actually discovered this same executive in the office of my Art Director, sitting side-by-side while he provided design direction - a situation I quickly resolved with a fictitious need to review budget accruals for the coming quarter.
After a dozen or so review meetings later, this hellacious nightmare was over. We finally began production on this package three weeks behind in our production schedule. Seven years of denial later and thousand of dollars in therapy, this project still haunts me and still fails to appear in my portfolio.
But, these things happen. And, they seem to happen more frequently in companies that simply fail to recognize or appreciate the expertise they employ. The value of talent, knowledge and experience that exists in-house, for some organizations, will always be an up-hill battle and overcoming it is an ongoing topic of discussion wherever you look. Just know that you're not alone and for those of you who must survive in those trenches, my advice is simply this - slip on your kevlar vest, raise your creative guns and fight on!
