I nearly sold my soul a couple weeks ago. In some minds I probably did, and surely I might have in mine. I work for a major newspaper. Major=over 100k circulation. I "was" a graphic artist. Now I'm in fucking Advertising Sales (inside). What happened you ask? I chose my own hell. Our production was moved to the corporate office from having satellite offices and their own art teams take care of the ads every hour/day/week. Corporate shut it all off and centralized the production miles upon miles away from me. Some of the reasons came about of my own bitching about how production could more/better/faster. Apparently it came back to bite me in the ass now. I got the InviteOfTheFew to work from the head office. I was pretty damn happy to hear that. But then I was informed that since "your skills are so needed with this company and you're so friendly and flexible with everyone" somebody found it easy that I would just suck up the 3 hour commute each way to fire up Photoshop and make you people look good all day. Before I get on the ensuing rant, and lest my ass get busted for this blog some day I'll say it here first: I like the company. I worked for another as an Ad Manager that was a longtime advertiser with it. I knew people inside long before I ever worked for you. The least thing you fucking people could do is make it worth my time. The commissions you pay to sales people would more than enough pay my base, my commish, and my commute. And then ask yourselves: what good is salespeople vs. graphic artists? Which is better? Salespeople that run up phony advertising and expect MY ass to make you look good when the monthly reports to come out?

This particular rant is the first. Don't get to excited if it isn't structured or of perfect grammar for you idiots. I chose my Purgatory, and It wasn't easy. I feel like I sold my my soul to be a salesperson in the name of keeping a job, the benefits, and bragging rights for working for a huge paper that can't pay for my commute. What's in the name of good advertising eh? Graphic Designers have power you sales people don't know. You trust us. We trust you. Don't abuse the priviledge.

SO........

Since I've sold my soul now. I suppose that I should bring out some skeletons for the masses of what really goes on at a paper. I see their shit. I see the editorials. I know what ink they used today on the press (and what color, and why magenta at 12am isn't the same looking magenta at 3pm). I know what salesperson came in with a hangover and couldn't sell new ads for some unguided reason, yet MY ass is going to take the heat for fucking up their ads, even though I'm not designing their picture perfect full page double truck this week.

Fear not my creative brethren, I'll be back. After a glorious corporate review of my killer skills, I was told by our Creative Dept Manager "......if you change your mind". Nice. I like that. I liked doing what I....did. Nice to know that you're appreciated by people that should be willing to pay you more than inside sales people. I'd pay heavily to see some flashy saleperson sell at Burningman sometime and keep a straight face in a suit that's a flashy blue. Shit, maybe that could be next years flashMob. I see what they get paid. I get it now. After all Graphic artists are the last ones to see peoples ads before they go print. But that's my bitch. I don't work for free. Want killer thoughts on paper? Sure. You got it. Make it worth my time..

I trained last week for my new job in hell. I'll say, the faster everyone can get on their local "DO NOT CALL" lists the better. This shit is telemarketing. I'm not fucking calling you. Nor do you want me to. I trained with a top saleswoman this week. She knows her shit. This woman makes $80k a year selling herself from a chair and a headseat. She has blankets on the back of her chair, balloons, baby pictures, all that crap. This is corporate porn.

I first sold my soul on this pretense. $80k a year. OK. I don't make $80k. How hard could it be calling people I don't know at all at dinner? Man, I didn't think that through, and forgive me GA's, I'm just trying to pay the rent. I adapt. I'll take on a whole lot of garbage to get by. But.... She loves her job and that's fine. I fail to see how she spends the rest of her day and I'm not going to ask.

First thing I noted while doing the classifieds was this: She quoted moral issues with making an ad for a house, 3Bdr and not 3 Bedroom. Websters was her Bible and so was a Sales Manager that was born about the time of Jesus it seems. Me? I don't give a shit really but if somebody pictches a bitch about saving 50 cents? I don't care. I'll help them save that 50 cents if its THAT BIG of an issue, other wise you pay for it people, don't whine. Her issues? she just couldn't help put in an ad for someone without selling them into XX other areas.

The SmashingOfWords (later posts will define this term)
made her feel that she "kept people straight" while "helping the company grow". FINE. Keep costs down. Yay for you. But what the fuck? Are you the fucking dogcatcher? Moral issues with smashing words but no problem with upselling people that don't want their ads in all fucking XX issues?

Lest I keep bitching. And I will. Get used to it kids. I'll tell you how it is in front of the monitors. Angry? Nope. Just telling......Stay tuned.