Recently I whiffed on a freelance assignment. It wasn’t pretty—two rounds of complete failure. I struck out. Dropped the ball. Missed the target. (Feel free to pick your choice of sports failure metaphor.)
It hurt because I pride myself on always nailing it. Always. But sometimes it doesn’t work out that way. I felt bad. Bad as in I’ve-been-exposed-as-a-no-talent-hack-and-will-never-get-hired-again bad.
Fortunately, once I took a breath, I remembered a story from my past that helps keep things in perspective. So sit back for a tale involving freelancing, a hall-of-fame copywriter, and a certain orange–tinged casino owner.
Way back when, I worked for an agency that had the account of a hotel and casino in Atlantic City. Which casino isn’t important, but I will say the owner of that casino might have gone on to become President of a powerful country.
Our agency was slammed and understaffed, so my boss called in a freelancer to help with an urgent radio project. And not just any freelancer. She called in Patrick Kelly, one of the most talented and acclaimed copywriters in ad history. Along with his partner Mike Tesch, Patrick did some of the best work ever, including many amazing spots for Dunkin’ Donuts and FedEx, such as Fast Talker (one of the reasons I got into this business: https://lnkd.in/gWXAC3rk.) Patrick was so talented, The One Club even named a scholarship after him https://lnkd.in/gRjPPNS7.
So to say I was excited to have Patrick on this project is an understatement. He got the brief and came back a few days later to present the work. It was like Christmas morning for a creative geek like me. And it… wasn’t great. It wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t right. The tone was off, the spots were just ok, and for a few weird client reasons we hadn’t burdened him with, the spots had no chance.
It was a little like calling in a creative legend thinking you’re going to get Hey Jude and instead you get Say Say Say.
I don’t even remember how we fixed the project. All I know is it wasn’t Patrick who did it. In hindsight, it didn’t matter much. That account went away, the casino was ultimately demolished, and its former owner is currently unemployed.
My respect for Patrick Kelly remained undiminished, and my jealousy of his work unabated. But it did teach me that even the greatest can strike out once in a while.
Which makes me feel a teensy bit better today.