Category: Ad Campaigns

        VINAY KANCHAN
The work-life divide- the fine line that separates office related activities with those other than, is fast becoming as visible as the Australian teams‘ manners during the ICC awards ceremony.This has ensured that work often intrudes when you have specifically set aside time to do something that even remotely reeks of giving you satisfaction at a personal level. (At this point the author was interrupted by a call for a meeting and he subsequently was only able to complete this article months later)

“So how has work been?” asked Dr. Sushma, scanning through a few reports on the table. Ram Shankar had long planned this appointment, ever since he had discovered that his old class mate had set up a clinic in the locality. Sushma was the kind of woman, who as Chai-La would have said while simultaneously floating down into the residual tea leaves in the cup, ‘compels a man to think about settling down.‘

She had been, even at that relatively early stage in the evolution process, unequivocally dubbed ‘wife material‘ by all those favored by the X chromosome. There was something about her that soothed the nerves, uplifted the spirit, cleared the mind and brought in smiles by the dozen. She had always been successful, but also had the rare gift of being popular at the same time. Thus the beeline of Ram‘s classmates who had conjured up imaginary ailments just for ‘medical dates‘, was long and as the school master would have resoundingly bellowed, in a manner designed to shatter the eardrums, ‘shameful‘.

Ram himself had made an appointment, over a fortnight ago, for that Sunday afternoon, just before she broke off for lunch. The strategy was to charm her into a lunch date post the ‘check up‘. Prior experience of concocting stories, for keeping ravenous clients at bay and off the more tender parts of his anatomy, had Ram fancying his chances in all such situations.
‘Work is just fine, though lately I have been feeling some shooting pain in my heart, that seems to strike without warning,” answered Ram.

“That‘s strange, this shouldn‘t be happening at your age. When did it first occur?” Sushma looked up and paused as she held Ram‘s gaze.

“Just about five minutes ago, when I entered your room,” quipped back Ram, trying to bring about some softness in his eyes as he made his pitch.

There was an elongated pause that followed; much like what would have been heard after all the fuss of the Big Bang was over.

Then Sushma smiled. And Ram Shankar felt something stir in the innermost depths of his being that refused to be put into language translation.

“I never thought you had a sense of humor in school Ram, by the way is something wrong with your eye?” asked Sushma, her own eyes sparkling with a life that was captivating.

“To be frank I never had much sense then,” began Ram, abandoning the attempt to make his eyes speak, as Sushma broke into giggles. “But now that sense seems to be shining on me, would it be the right time to ask you out for lunch” Ram Shankar was sure that she could hear his heart beat as he braved forth those words.

“Sure, as a Doctor I need to always encourage good sense when it makes an appearance, however late,” replied Sushma, Ram‘s morale was just going to crash through the roof when he noticed a rather disturbing noise emanating from his pocket, quite like the deranged ranting of Adolf Hitler asking for Monday morning job status reports.

“Oh that‘s just my boss Vikas,” said Ram as he stared back defiantly for a while at the phone, “and the ring tone fits like a glove,” he weakly ventured, knowing that answering the phone would definitely be a wake up call.
“Well, work is work” smiled back Sushma.

Ram cursed himself for not having switched off his cell phone. But having defined diligence as one of his core values, he found himself answering.

“Hi Vikas…”

“Chief, drop everything you are doing right now, there is a crisis”

“Today? Now?”

“Mr Bose wants a leaflet for his Monday 9am meeting and he must have it.”

At that point Ram could think of a million other things that Vikas and Mr. Bose could have ‘had‘.

“What is it about? Can I brief the creative over the phone and then proceed to office once they have cracked something?”

“No, you are the only guy who knows all the details; you might have to write the copy yourself. Anyways who will you get on a Sunday?” chirped back Vikas in a manner that made Ram consider homicidal measures.

“Then can I head back to office in an about an hour and start the job then,” queried Ram.

“No, Mr. Bose wants to be absolutely sure. He wants to go through a minimum of three iterations and he is expecting the first one in 45 minutes.”

“Three iterations… my” began Ram and then noticing that Sushma was watching him. “My task is not that easy you know” he quickly corrected the impending unprintable volley and stepped out of the doctor‘s cabin gesturing in a manner that meant either the reception was weak or that he had eaten one too many chilies.

“Hey I was in the middle of something, Can I do this later?”

“Have I told you about the rules that our company has governing the social life of an account executive?”

“No” answered a surprised Ram.

“There are none,” boomed Vikas as he exploded into laughter, “as an underling you are expected to abandon all personal ventures for the cause of the organization and your confirmation. Only as you rise in the company are you entitled to any control of your life at all. I have earned that chief and hence I am here, sipping a beer at home, while you will be getting back to office sooner than yesterday. What‘s more I can even afford to forget jobs and bring them up only on Sundays.” Ram detected a distinct sinister chuckle as he felt Vikas pause for another sip. “Good luck and don‘t bother me with any problems, you should be good enough to handle them.” Vikas signed off leaving Ram clutching his phone in a vice like grip in an attempt to control the storm that was brewing within. He stood silent like a dazed man in the corridor. But his world inside was screaming. Composing himself a bit he popped back in.

“I‘m sorry,” he began, “urgent work beckons.”

Dr Sushma looked him in the eye, “Believe me I understand,” she smiled back kindly. Then Ram saw they were no longer alone in the room.

“Hey since you aren‘t taking her anywhere, I suppose you might have no objection that she does lunch with me?” the suave voice of Cyrus, ‘the dude from school‘ interjected emphasizing ever so slightly on ‘aren‘t taking her anywhere‘. Ram could have thought of a million objections but societal norms in such regards are rather callous.

“Sure go ahead.” He managed keeping as straight a face as was possible. “Some other time perhaps” he asked Sushma as he bid them goodbye.

“Some other time,” she replied with a smile that offered some hope, though he wasn‘t sure whether it was just his servicing optimism kicking in.

“The life of an AE is well… not to be,” the hushed oriental tone, the express delivery of the tea-cup and Chai-La (the mystical Chinese canteen tea boy) had disappeared into the works of Shakespeare on the office mantelpiece. Ram noted with some concern that he had vanished into ‘Romeo and Juliet.‘

 

(The views expressed here are those of the author and Indiantelevision.com need not necessarily subscribe to the same)

After stints at Lowe, Mudra and Everest the author is now general manager Client Service Network Advertising. In addition to that he is also patron saint of Juhu Beach United – a movement that celebrates obesity and the unfit ‘out of breath‘ media professional of today. To join up contact vinaykanchan@hotmail.com

A consultant: – An outside entity who is paid to bring objectivity, expertise and insight into a client‘s working. However, the only skill that he seems to employ is the art of collating comments made from diverse sources, processing and polishing then a touch and then presenting them as his own, with aplomb. This insidious transference of the source of an idea, many a times results in its full throated approval.
(For all those of you who make a career doing this, kudos to you, I wish I was in your place, and in case anyone is hiring I have my id at the bottom)

“Old Chinese Proverb, words spoken by someone who is being paid through your nose always sound better, though a little nasal,” the hushed Chinese accent, the express delivery of the tea cup in Ram‘s hand and Chai-La (the mystical Chinese canteen tea boy) had vanished into the absurdness of his comment before anyone could pause to notice.

The agency team had gathered in the client‘s office to discuss the impending launch of a multinational competitor. Since this was typically the kind of news that sends thorn rimmed shivers down the spines of the marketing department, the client had decided to call in the cavalry. Word was sent out to the Big C, the clients marketing consultant.

The Big C was almost a reverential name in the industry. People swore by his name-at errant laser printers, red card happy referees and overindulgent accountants. His appearance was immaculate. He always seemed to have gadgets that were a few years ahead of everything else present in the room (a minor alteration on the system clock did help).

He was a master of business models and never passed up a single opportunity to know them better. This had resulted in three divorces at last count. He featured regularly in media. His opinions were sought after by all and sundry, whenever the economy twisted in its slumber. He was a man who had a reputation, which wasn‘t something that anyone from the agency team could honestly claim.

When the Big C entered, a feeling of awe swept across the room. Immediately the concept of the ‘awe continuum‘ came to the fore. The clients marketing team, featuring Mr.Bose (the marketing head) and Mr. Lele (his external organ), stared tongue tied as the Big C strode to the head of the table. The agency‘s brand management team (Vikas, Dharti and Ram) were also awed, but to a lesser degree and PP (the creative director with the trademark moustache) was very low on awe. In fact he was staring with some amount of hostility at the consultant.

“Welcome friends, we have gathered here to discuss our future strategy, especially given the competitive scenario. Let us try and have a constructive discussion to arrive at a long-

term solution. I must thank the Big C also for kindly consenting to grace us with his presence and hopefully we will all get inspired to think better in his August company, even though this is September.”

Mr. Bose paused to see if his wisecrack had gone down well; the Big C smiled back boosting his confidence multifold.

“And now let‘s just begin the discussion, let it be a free flowing exchange of ideas without fear of who is getting hurt by what is being said, let‘s be brave, let‘s think different. Let‘s question the conventions. Lets just pull out all the stops to finding a winning solution,” he concluded red faced from the exertion of talking passionately, short of throwing down a blood stained handkerchief on the table he had pretty much set the mood. As it was wisely said it was too ‘let‘ to turn around.

“I would like to hear what the agency has to say on the issue. They are after all your brand custodians. They will be in touch with the pulse of the consumer,” began the Big C in a voice that demanded instant respect, attention and clearance of outstanding bills. He then unraveled a space age looking gadget that made the usual laptops look like elementary level slates. As everyone else looked on in envy he began punching keys with the ferocity of a circus clown going through his comic routine.

“Well, we believe that we really have nothing to fear,” began Vikas, in his confidently cherubic tone, and then realizing he had hit a brick wall kicked Dharti under the table.

“The reason for that is that we have created new niches in the market and have sustained our value proposition across non homogenous audiences across the years, so we are prepared for any eventuality,” Dharti, the agency‘s curvaceously crafted account planning head, chipped in while maintaining unwavering eye contact with the Big C.

The Big C met her gaze and a wicked smile began to form on the outlines of his lips that made Ram feel distinctly jealous.

“The only thing we need to do is keep advertising, so what is they are multinationals, this is our country, different rules apply here. We must increase our presence in India, possibly even create new more relevant communication that has international overtones” boomed PP, reaching decibel levels that rearranged data on Big C‘s wonder gadget.

The Big C was studiously at it on his machine when the others were speaking. From time to time he was checking the temperature in the room and was drawing imaginary triangles of influence across the various speakers in the room. He had an all knowing grin permanently plastered on. Ram found all this very strange.

“Why should we advertise? We should just stop and see what they will do.” That was Madhur Lele, first name courtesy parents, the last endowed by the general public.

“Absolute nonsense,” exploded PP.

“That‘s completely short sighted,” exclaimed Vikas.

“Such mediocre thinking,” commented the receptionist (though outside the room and in a completely different context)

“Lele you better clear your marketing fundamentals,” ended Mr. Bose, relishing the opportunity to make his subordinate squirm.

The Big C remained silent and did not raise his eyes above the wonder gadget.

“We need a promotional scheme to keep the consumer loyal initially,” murmured Mr. Bose, “the propensity to switch might be high initially.”

“Yes that‘s true Mr. Bose, research shows that if morality is falling, brand loyalty is never something that should be taken for granted,” cooed Dharti in a manner that immediately made her appear intelligent, or was it the lighting in the room?

“Well, what do you have to say?” The Big C suddenly asked Ram, emphasizing on the underline. To say that the question had caught Ram in the cold would be detrimental to the idea of an understatement.

In his bewildered state he glanced down at Vikas‘s cell phone and drew inspiration from the logo.

“Maybe we need a motto,” he said with uncertainity.
The rest of the room erupted in laughter, the loudest guffaws emanating from Madhur Lele who was thrilled to get the opportunity to mock someone for a change.

As the mirth subsided, Mr. Bose asked the Big C the inevitable question.

“What do you have to say, sir?”

The Big C motioned him to be silent and upped the tempo of his interaction with the wonder gadget, lights were flashing and techno sounds were squealing in digital agony. Finally he triumphantly raised his eyes and looked at the room. He paused for a full minute and then stood to his full height. He casually sauntered around the room in a manner that made everyone uncomfortable. Then he stopped dead center.

“This is an interesting and challenging problem, luckily my years of experience and cutting edge technology have enabled me to come up with the right tool that we must follow for success,” he paused briefly to caress the wonder gadget almost sensually.

“The tool is my trademarked model ACPM, a brand defense module against aggression in the marketplace. This is inspired by the ICBM, which famously formed the bulwark of the security programs of many nations around the world.” He paused again drinking in the awe, for those who keep status; even PP was jumping up in intensity level on the ‘awe continuum‘.

“A stands for await. Wait and watch first what the competition will do, C stands for Counter or make our approach more Contemporary and relevant. P stands for Persevere with this strategy and if in doubt fall back on Promotions and M stands for motto, we need something that will drive morale within and outside the organization, a kind of rallying call that will inspire people to greater things. Something that the agency will surely develop given their expertise.”

He concluded as he triumphantly scribbled the acronym on the board, adding the trademark symbol almost mechanically.

There was a hushed silence in the room as everyone sat transfixed taking in those alphabets. They seemed to have hypnotized the room.

Mr. Bose was the first to recover, “Thank you sir that makes so much sense. We will all get down to it. That was truly inspiring, ACPM, such a brilliant model. We are very keen to apply it from today. You have given us so much hope.”

The agency personnel grudgingly admitted that they were floored by the new strategic initiative.

“We will start work on the slogan,” offered Vikas helpfully, knowing full well that his remark would cause PP‘s blood pressure to rise like a salmon out of water.

Ram excused himself to leave the room, he deliberately walked behind Big C‘s chair to sneak a peek at the wonder gadget and what he saw made his jaw drop beyond the confines of his face. There was nothing on the other side of the impressive shell. It was just a sophisticated game of ‘0‘s and X‘s‘ that the Big C had been playing all along. The Big C caught him looking at his little secret and shot back a refined but decidedly dangerous glance that made Ram scurry to the men‘s room even faster.

Back in the office, Ram sat stooped in his chair. Trying to write the minutes of the previous meeting, still feeling slightly robbed on the whole.

“Your ideas make for meaningful meal, but if you aren‘t careful someone will steal,” the high pitched cackle, the express delivery of the tea cup and Chai-La disappeared in the words typed out in bold on Ram‘s screen. ACPM

After stints at Lowe, Mudra and Everest the author is now general manager Client Service Network Advertising. In addition to that he is also patron saint of Juhu Beach United – a movement that celebrates obesity and the unfit ‘out of breath‘ media professional of today. To join up contact vinaykanchan@hotmail.com

(The views expressed here are those of the author and Indiantelevision.com need not necessarily subscribe to the same)

The Media Review – Most men have a problem comprehending figures (except those of the female form). Figures intimidate men and take them back to memories of how euphoric they felt when they made it to college and it dawned on them that mathematics was optional. These men spend the best part of their lives ignoring any numbers thrown their way. On the other hand there are those (select few) whose very world is around numerals. For whom creating pie charts, bar graphs and any other vulgar representations of data, is like chicken soup for the soul. The media review is the forum where these two opposing philosophies meet.

‘One-two-three-four, lord I can‘t take figures no more‘ the fake American drawl failed to mask the heavy Chinese accent, as Chai-La (the mystical Chinese canteen boy) delivered his nursery rhyme sounding pearl of wisdom plus the customary tea cup to Ram Shankar, before vanishing into the footnote of a pie chart.

The agency and the client teams had gathered for the annual media review, taking place in the agency conference room. It was meant to be a very important assessment of where the client was spending his budgets and how efficiently the agency was buying for him.

The agency President had begun the meeting by saying, “Planimus, our media head, has put together a presentation that frankly made no sense to me. But hopefully will be seen in a better light by all of you. Can we have more lights please?” he finished with a thunderous laugh, meant to awaken the dead and generally frighten some of the numbers on the presentation that were eager to come out.

Planimus, who was a person who did his media plans with almost gladiatorial passion (hence the sobriquet, his real name was lost in the annals of time) was hardly cheered by that remark of the President. He quickly shot a glance at Vikas (the account head and Ram‘s boss) urging him to open with something more sensible.

“Thank you sir,” started Vikas, patronizingly patting the President‘s hand to calm him down, “We are gathered here because Planimus has worked out a past assessment and more importantly a future implication of our media plans and budgets. So lets absorb what he has to say and then make our budgetary decisions in a more evolved and scientific manner. After all it‘s all about spending money more wisely.”

Ram knew that while that was a good opening, Vikas‘s knowledge and interest in media ended there.

Mr Bose, the client marketing head, spoke up, “Why don‘t we call in PP (the creative director) he should also be a part of this.”
An uncomfortably silent five minutes later PP entered like his name was just short listed for the train to Auschwitz

“Ok, let‘s begin with a GRP analysis, region wise, and see how these met with our set objectives,” started Planimus with almost lusty enthusiasm and then without warning displayed a slide that had a table on it, on which the figures looked as if they would be much happier elsewhere.

There was a collective inward groan from most people in the room.

“Why are you showing so many figures? What‘s the story behind them?” asked a visibly dazed Vikas.

“The story, my young fellow,” began Planimus in a tone that Vikas instantly hated, “is how we are doing across the country against what we had set to do.”

“Then why don‘t you just say it in a line?” PP enquired

“It can be, but this is an analytical process and we would lead to that, also don‘t you think that the client deserves to be walked through every step, especially when monetary considerations are involved?”

“I don‘t think you should dwell on this too much,” interrupted the President resurfacing briefly after he had instantly popped off to sleep just about the time Planimus had stood up to present.

“Ok,” said Planimus with a huff and jumped 19 slides in the presentation, though clearly working under protest.

“Why are we falling short of our GRP‘s?” enquired Mr.Bose.

“Don‘t worry about these things,” boomed the President, “These are just figures, I don‘t even think there is much scientific basis to them,” Planimus clearly miffed by that point raised an outraged eyebrow, which the President glossed over with the casual flick of the wrist, “but maybe if the GRP‘s are down you need to spend more.” He concluded with a wicked twinkle in his eyes.

“Why don‘t we try and isolate the pattern that is emerging?” asked Bose in a tone that he hoped would make his IQ level shoot twenty points.

“Well, we started with bar graphs, then we graduated to pie charts, soon Planimus will be plucking numbers from the very fabric of the cosmos,” concluded the President again finishing with that thunderclap of a laugh that shook a few numbers out of their reverie.

“What‘s the point of these numbers? I never see our commercials on TV?” queried PP.
“You are in office till midnight everyday, you don‘t even watch TV, plus you aren‘t the target audience,” retorted Planimus.

“PP has a point though,” began Mr Bose, as the face of Planimus began changing colors with the speed of an agitated chameleon. “Why don‘t we see the commercials, even the chairman complains that his wife never sees them?”

Planimus was tempted to say something unconstitutional about the Chairman‘s wife, but years of wisdom prevailed.

“We judge media on the basis of how well our target is being exposed to the message. Our target as we all know is the lower middle class, what use is it, even if the chairman‘s wife sees our ad, for groin itching creams? We have only that much money to spend.”

“Are you saying that you want more money?” asked Bose in a rather bellicose tone.

“Yes, of course we always need more money,” chimed in the President and was instantly knocked out when Planimus exposed him to a slide with 144 matrix cells.

“What I am saying is that we have to balance the fine line between those who will give us sales versus those whom we just have to pamper and as you know the latter is a statistically insignificant number,” said a defiant Planimus

“Why don‘t we just look at the larger picture and make our conclusions thereof?” interjected Vikas, doing his ‘servicing bit‘ to preserve the tender equilibrium of the meeting. There was a marked rise in the temperature in the room, beyond the scope of work of the air conditioner.

“We can, but things will only make sense if you people change your attitude towards numbers and stop being so intimidated by them.”

“Who is intimidated?” nothing intimidates me, said the President awakening fresher.

“We all understand numbers Planimus, numbers are the very basis of our functioning,” added Mr Bose, though cold sweat beads began to form on his forehead as the ‘144 matrix cells‘ slide had not been changed over the last ten minutes.

“Please,” gasped Vikas, “Change that slide, its beginning to suffocate me.”

Planimus, with a sardonic smile, pushed the page down button to reveal a new adversary, four pie charts that had all the colors of the rainbow on them. PP dashed out of the room covering his mouth. Planimus felt that he had registered a moral victory of some sort.

“I think Planimus you just type out a mail summarizing the entire presentation, and don‘t use any numbers in it. Please also indicate that we will need more budgets.”
“And analyze each and every number to its logical conclusion, Ram will help you do that, he is good at that and will bring in an account management perspective,” uttered Vikas, adjusting his tie in his reflection on Mr. Bose‘s spectacles.

Ram groaned with disgust, fear and boredom all rolled into one. He dreaded talking to Planimus about numbers, that man was numerically insane.

“Where did more budgets come from? I never concluded that?”

“Don‘t worry Bose, that‘s the sum and substance of the presentation, now let‘s go and have a good lunch. Planimus you can come along as long as you don‘t start asking for break ups on the bill and drawing bar graphs on the napkins.”

So the President, Mr Bose, Planimus and Vikas checked out of the room like they had to catch a flight, pie charts still lying appetizingly unattended to on the screen.

“Media review meetings are very short, because people who attend then have a long history with numbers,” the hushed Chinese accent, the express delivery of the tea cup and Chai-La disintegrated into a Fibonacci sequence of numbers.

Ram wearily started to go through the first ten slides of the presentation, when almost at once he began to feel that his eyelids were being pulled down by forces beyond his control, he was overcome with the same feeling of nausea one gets when seeing the Indian batting line up perform abroad.

Then his world went 100 percent black.

After stints at Lowe, Mudra and Everest the author is now general manager Client Service Network Advertising. In addition to that he is also patron saint of Juhu Beach United – a movement that celebrates obesity and the unfit ‘out of breath‘ media professional of today. To join up contact vinaykanchan@hotmail.com

(The views expressed here are those of the author and Indiantelevision.com need not necessarily subscribe to the same)