I got a call (well, a tweet) from an ex-colleague on Monday, offering me the chance of a few days work at a large ad agency in London. As I’m not that busy with my own business, I thought ‘Why not?’ I’d give it a go.
Just a few days writing.
A few days freelance.
Getting down with the creatives at a cool, trendy ad agency seething with young, slim, young, gorgeous, young ad folk. who are young.
Did I mention they would be young?
Strange how some things change, and some things stay the same. I last worked in a London agency back in 1991… 14 long, eventful years ago.
I remember how I coolly disregarded the Old Writers huddled in the corners tapping away. My vision was blinkered, back then. I felt they weren’t relevant to the place.
Now it’s my turn to be on the other side of the ageing old coin.
As I sat there amongst all the lovely young people, I realised two things…
1. Astonishingly, it looked like I was the only female creative.
Still, after all these years, art directors and copywriters work in a male dominated environment. (Another female writer did appear later.)
2. I was quite easily the oldest person in the creative department (aged 47).
It took some guts to travel into London to work again amongst young creatives.
To carry on as one of them, when I can tell by their looks I am now one of THEM (oldies).
The young creatives aren’t unfriendly or cold. They’re certainly not bitchy or rude. It’s just … they are on one side of life, and I am on the other.
I am banter proofed.
A nice cup of copy, and a good sit down
The upside is, my age makes me almost completely invisible to everyone. Which is actually rather relaxing.
I can just get on with my work, without having to impress anyone with my witty one-liners, trendy fashions and slim thighs.
Which is just as well, really.