The World was my Oyster

The W was my O in the summer of 1976 when they were out of season and what I wanted was a job, not a mollusc.

One of the jobs I applied for was at J Walter Thompson. I thought I had a way with words that, while I wasn’t going to write a great novel, might make me a ‘creative’. I’d pop into the office mid-morning, announce ‘Murder a Mars Bar’ and head off for lunch. Then, being realistic and ambitious, my career would progress so I could sell JWT to new customers, explaining the subtle techniques employed by JWT and CB to raise product-awareness that would lead to a surge in sales and many agreeable lunches talking through the strategy.

JWT, in 1976, was so short-sighted, blinkered and unimaginative they couldn’t see a good thing when it was put before them on a plate garnished with parsley. They weren’t interested in even a chat and a Mad Men martini. I felt I could have cast my spell but on reflection the hiring staff, HR didn’t exist in 1976, might not have succumbed to my Celtic charm.

Anyway I digress, and now I am Creative Consultant to a high-end business. Unlike JWT this business recognises creativity, well only when it stumbled on this post. Soon you will see adverts like this (below). It doesn’t make any assumptions about sexuality but, importantly, it assumes  anyone who owns a dog is rich and can afford a pricy wrist watch. I have written into my contract that it will always be my slim wrist but, sorry Bertie, there will be other canine models as the campaign rolls out. The brand? There’s a clue in the title.

Erratum: Bertie’s legal team have asserted copyright and claim exclusivity. So it will be Bertie and I will just have to use my wrist for something else – cheers!