Day 1 in the BMB House
We’ve SO got this. We’re a modern company, full of modern people with all the modern weaponry. Status meetings. Nay bother. Look at all our little faces, in their little webcam frames, like millennial Celebrity Squares.
"Coooooeeeeyyy!!! Hello Bianca, Hello Mel. JC – give us a wave." This is amazing. When you talk your face gets big, when you’re schtum it shrinks. Distance creativity, remote agency-ing – all from the comfort of your pants. I FUCKING LOVE IT.
Well, yesterday was a tad intense. Eight hours on a webcam, overcommunicating down a pipe like the world’s most specialised webcam sex worker – slave to a little green light, emoting for coin, getting a really stiff neck. But leaders gotta lead. My grandad didn’t fight in two world wars (I admit). But if he had, he would have wanted me to woman the fuck up and get on with things.
My family are hearing me work. Hearing my business, my executive power chat. Silently judging me. Yes, I am that guy. Bases do get touched; circles get circled back upon. It’s that chat that keeps the lights on, you bunch of filthy ingrates.
Don’t look at me.
Little green light. I look at it. It looks at me. It looks in me. The eye of Zoom. It makes me think I am going to need more paper. Lots more paper – all the paper. Eye of doom says: "Hire a transit. Go to Rymans. Come back with all the A4."
Days dissolving. Slack to Zoom to Slack to Zoom to Slack to Zoom. Blasting off, then laying back and then blasting off again. Mogadons to meth and back again.
Week one is over. We will never look back.
Executive creative director and founder, Impero
Super-stressed today. Kids are now officially off and roaming the house, free range. They'll be fine until the iPads run out of batteries. Then all hell will break loose.
But something more urgent is pushing. A key delivery has got lost. This is work-critical stuff. The agency will suffer so badly without it. It's a do-or-die moment.
It's got to arrive soon. It's the waiting. The long, painful waiting.
I remember all those days ago when the worst thing I had to wait for was a pitch result. Working through the night for two weeks to impress a would-be client. Then have them go silent for a week, then another, then another as they make their decision is just so difficult.
But this waiting is worse.
Waiting to hear if you have agreed a deal with some amazing new talent you just met is nothing but stressful.
But this wait is worse.
Waiting to see how many projects are shelved or pulled because of coronavirus is like nothing before.
But this wait is worse.
Fuck. The foorbell. Please, please, please…
Yes!! This is BIG! It's here! Thank fuck! And thank god for the hard working delivery folk at Majestic. Our box of NZ sav has arrived.
We'll be alright everybody. We're back in business. We'll pull through!