#opporunity calling

When I joined Digitas – the advertising agency that didn’t know it was an agency – the shop was about to undertake the single largest value-added direct mail promotion in advertising history for the then long-distance telecommunications giant AT&T.  

Ordered to deregulate by District of Columbia Federal Judge Harold Green, unable to compete purely on price --although competitors like MCI were free to do so -- AT&T was searching for a way to level a decidedly uneven playing field.  My colleagues approached AT&T, advising it could still succeed by adding value through a wide range of partner discounts from which its customers would benefit. 

AT&T signed up for an undertaking designed to reach roughly 20 million households with a package that included 40 offers from participating companies, to be repeated every quarter of every year. 

The urgency of the task was daunting; it meant the agency needed to staff up in a hurry, recruiting people practically from off the street. 

I was one of those off-the-street new hires in those early, insane days, having just two weeks to start my new position, something called “Program Director.”  With AT&T’s identity withheld from me, I left my Washington DC, marketing job, relocated to Boston; arriving late one evening, a week before my “official” start date, began work, foreshadowing a routine that would become all-too-familiar. 

It was my first agency job in what would span a 40-plus-year career.

In truth I had absolutely no clue on how to engage with clients or do something as simple and obvious as write an after-meeting conference report, let alone a presentation or proposal, a budget or schedule. 

Were there standard procedures for such things, precedents or go-by’s I could rely on for guidance?  Of course not.  Someone to teach me?  You make joke.  I was flying blind along, with all my other visually impaired colleagues, steering way too close to the sun, or maybe the ground, whichever best describes the chaos pervading those early days, with disaster lurking around the corner.

The stress was unrelenting, the failure rate high – in short order my first boss bailed (severe case of mono), as did one of my colleagues (pressure got the better of him), as did the shop’s sole copywriter (her endocrine system shut down) – with many realizing they simply could not cope.  I stuck it out, with fear supplanting pressure.  I wasn’t just stressed:  I was afraid.  Yes, afraid.

To screw up.  To let others down.  To fail.

The one person who betrayed not even one iota of this was our 24-year-old founder, Michael Bronner.  If he was worried, he surely did not show it.  I have no idea what was going on in his head or heart, but to us, no matter how dark or gloomy things became with the client, a partner company, a staffer, whatever, he remained steadfast, a perfect cocktail of confidence and can-do.

Michael’s near unflappable demeanor reminded me of something I recalled from a documentary, Somewhere You Feel Free, about legendary songwriter/singer/band-leader Tom Petty. Speaking of his work on his solo album Wildflowers, in the film’s opening minutes, Petty says:

“If I had really known how little I knew about what I was doing, I might have been discouraged, but I wasn’t.”

Petty was referring to his early days as a musician, but to me he just as easily could have been speaking about the early days of Digitas.  I surely did not know what I was doing.  The same is mostly true of my colleagues, even those who hid behind what was a false sense of bravado (there were a fair number of people who fit that description).  I soon realized how easily things could spiral downward to disaster.

I was old enough to know this; Michael was not.  Like Tom Petty, Michael didn’t know enough to know he could fail, with the outcome being we somehow, in some way, found a way to launch AT&T Opportunity Calling.

Even more important, this is why, among all the other reasons others could offer, today there is an agency called Digitas.