Not all heroes have sleeve tattoos. But most do.

 “You’re so brave. You probably think this blog is about you. You’re so brave.” 

It’s understandable to associate bravery with mortal danger and not the existential threats lurking inside every office. But that’s where the real heroes are waiting. Bravery isn’t defined by how many burning buildings or traffic pileups you fearlessly run towards. Rather, it’s quantified by the number of creative briefs you absorb and embrace like a circus wrangler wishing to hug a lion one more time. 

There are the cynics out there, sipping oversized mugs of jet-black coffee and peering from behind an oversized newspaper, salivating to judge. They know that the death of print will have far-reaching and brutal consequences. It’s not that a human being can’t survive intellectually by subsisting on an e-reader's artificial glow. It’s everything else that we lose. The means to ignite out grills without the toxic assistance from lighter fluid. Suddenly, housebreaking little Fido got a lot harder. But their base of knowledge extends way past the deleterious effects of print’s demise. They know, or they think they know, that they’ve figured things out. That coffee can only be considered “real” if it’s caffeinated. Is non-alcoholic beer beer? Are jack-a-lopes real? 

Bravery isn’t a rare commodity, exclusive to firefighters and caped bystanders. You see it inside glass conference rooms and crowded elevator banks of asbestos-laden buildings. There’s the odd notion that ads should both entertain and educate. You’re selling something, after all. That’s precisely where most people get it so painfully wrong. A clever line of copy or a beautiful image isn’t enough in 2020.

Today, you need to take legitimate risks, courting danger like a creative matador, ole’ing the no-toros among you, who are usually unwilling to spend millions of dollars on an imaginative lark. The outrageously overbudget question everyone’s clamoring to know is, of course, how does one produce the bravest work? It’s actually quite easy. Do the opposite. If you’re working on an automotive account, sell bicycles, an airline company, promote boats. What about pet food? Quick, someone get Alice Waters on the horn. As long as someone responds with, “I don’t get it,” or a simple “why?,” you should be in good shape. Whether that shape is a smooth parallelogram or a jagged polygon is another question entirely. 

What’s real anyway? If the world is, as you probably guessed after one viewing of The Matrix, a simulation, then limiting yourself to the brand’s identity is a foolish and ultimately perilous endeavor.  

But we got into this business, not to make great ads, but to be lauded as heroes by our peers. Getting showered with gifts and bouquets is a nice start. For success to become truly measurable, one must bathe in accolades, stewing in good fortune for several hours before the hotel staff knocks loudly following a routine health check. You can’t fault them either. They’re simply doing their job. Not to mention that drowning in one’s own victory is not totally unheard of. 

Ads are a means to an end. Vehicles for change. It’s ad people who represent the industry’s incomparable courage and vision. Big ideas are best left unattended, to rot and decompose, until the smell and the sight becomes much too much to bear. They should then be recycled and viewed as if they were as good as new. And on and on and on.