How to freelance. Lesson 3: a varied wardrobe.

Just a quick one today.

I’ve stated previously that the first things a prospective employer looks for are a winning smile and a cute ass.

But remember, it’s no good having a cute ass (which I have) unless you’re also wearing, say, tight chinos to show it off.

I'm not just talking about sex appeal. This is about LOOKING THE PART.

Only a fool underestimates the importance of clothing to their career.

As a permanent employee, you may be able to rest on your garment laurels. I used to wear the same jumper all week and just occasionally vary my t-shirt.

But now I'm a freelancer I really mix things up:

Monday: special shirt and blue jumper
Tuesday: t-shirt and special blue jumper
Wednesday: t-shirt and blue jumper
Thursday: shirt and special blue jumper
Friday: special shirt (odour permitting) and special blue jumper

In this way I keep myself fresh, exciting and dynamic. I suggest you do the same.

Having a baby is brilliant

Having a baby is brilliant.

Your friends make meals for you.

You get to sit up late at night watching old West Wing episodes while he snuffles and sighs asleep on your shoulder.

Your neighbours bake cakes for you.

Your other neighbours who are having a baby soon get to come round and practice holding your baby and you get to explain to them that baby poo doesn’t actually smell bad (if they’re breastfed). Just kind of smells like sour milk.

You finally have an excuse for looking so crappy all the time.

Your other other neighbours stay the night when you have to leg it to hospital because of some problem or other and they get your eldest child up and dressed and take them for breakfast with their own kids and they have a food fight and think it’s the best thing ever.

You get to administer the fantastically named Gripewater.

Having a baby is brilliant.

Sexy sax man

If you don't have 5 minutes and 3 seconds, I recommend you watch from around halfway. Time well spent either way.

How to freelance. Lesson 2: appearing competent

Welcome back, my apprentice. Obviously you’ve learnt a lot from my last tip and have come back for more.

Appearing competent is one of the toughest skills to master in this game.

It’s by no means essential. However, if you’re able to look professional, or even actually be professional, it’s a real bonus. Another string to your bow, so to speak.

You don’t stay in this industry as long as me without picking up a few things about feigning competency. Here are my top tips.


The silent nod

Silent nodding is one of the most powerful weapons in a freelancer’s arsenal.

It’s ingenious. Because you haven’t been around long enough for them to know whether you’re nodding because you're an imbecile or because you know everything. Be warned though, this one does have a limited shelf life. I try to move on every week or so.

Getting angry

Just because you’re new, that’s no reason you can’t kick off. In fact, CDs like you to do this.

It doesn’t have to be about anything big either. In fact, the more pedantic the better. The important thing is to go really mental about one tiny thing and let everything else sail by without a hitch. This way you’re not troublesome BUT it also looks like you really care.

Big words

Everyone knows that using big words makes you look really impressive and intelligent.

The big word I use most is ‘tautological’. This is the best one in the English language, as no one has any idea what it means, least of all me.

So, for example:

Suit: Shouldn’t you change this word to ‘and’ instead of ‘or’?
Me: It’s tautological.

or

Creative Director: This copy doesn’t make sense.
Me: It’s tautological.

See? You win the argument every time AND you look like some kind of genius.


There. I think I’ve covered everything you could possibly need for a glittering career. But I know some seasoned freelancers read this blog. So if you have any suggestions, please add them in the comments.

X

At last, I have created something of note

Believe me, I'm as disappointed as you that he didn't come out sporting a beard and tiny wrestling suit.

Dear readers, please welcome Newborn Baby RMWLC a.k.a. Jonah William Mance.

Well done me. And well done Mrs RMWLC, who also had a hand in it. And especially well done to God.

Toddler RMWLC (recently ousted from her position of Baby RMWLC) is somewhat less impressed.

I tittered when she got this card.



I love the upbeat note they've tried to strike here. It's a note that's currently ringing very hollow in her little ears. Clearly a planner has been involved.

You may wonder what the arrival of my blogging heir means for you, dear reader.

Well, it was around the last time I had a baby that I birthed this blog. I used to post every day back then, so perhaps this new life will usher in a season of prolific blogging? Then again, this isn't the first time I've made wishy washy half blog-promises.

Phishing with Moira

Yesterday I was happy. I thought I was getting a tax rebate.

Sadly, today that rebate is just another little bubble of happiness that has burst.

It was a scam!

I know what you’re thinking. How was a savvy real-man-of-the-world like myself nearly duped?

Three words. Moira “Shyster” Stewart.




The duplicitous minx! In all my dealings with her, I never dreamt she’d pull a stunt like this.

You expect this sort of thing from Trevor McDonald. But Moira?!!

It will never fly

Have you seen this rubbish?

What Spot Now shows you what's happening inside coffee shops, pubs, etc. in real time.

So you can decide whether you should pop in or whether it’s too busy and you should just go home because you’ll never meet anyone anyway and you’re destined to be alone forever.

Sadly, What Spot Now is the kind of missed opportunity that drives me crazy.

First off, it only works in Portland. That’s a 13-hour flight! By the time I get there, Starbucks could be busy again.

Worse than that, there are so many better uses for this technology.

Why don’t they have cameras in conference rooms at work, so you know when meetings are over and you can swoop in to hoover up the biscuits? Or even better, one at your local Greggs, so you know when they’ve baked a new batch of Sausage & Bean Melts.

Then there are the stalking opportunities. Cameras in houses of all the girls that ever dumped you, anyone? Yes please.

Have a look anyway. I guess it is pretty interesting.

Keepin’ it real like Kevin Costner in The Bodyguard

Is The Bodyguard the greatest movie ever?

I guess that when you’re forging a movie from the raw materials of Whitney Houston’s stardom and Kevin Costner sporting quite short hair, you could hardly go wrong.

But still, you’ve got to admit the director used this potent combination to full effect.

For me, the onscreen chemistry between Kevin and Whitney has only been matched by Frodo and Sam in The Lord of the Rings.

As well as solid movie gold, the film’s opening scene contains a valuable lesson for us.



After saving a client’s life, Frank Farmer (Costner) is begged to take a full time job, but turns it down. “I’m no good in a permanent position. My feet go to sleep.”

Which is true for YOU too.

If you stay at one place too long, you get complacent.

Pretty soon you’re taking lunch breaks from 11:30 to 3:30. And when you are at your desk, you spend the whole time collecting, collating and filing your bellybutton fluff. Then posting pictures of it online.

Inevitably the work suffers.

Next thing you know, you’re as stale as a Greggs steak slice.

Whereas for freelancers, you have to be useful ALL THE TIME.

That means every day I’ve got to bring my 'A game'.

This can be anything from filling out a timesheet correctly to looking attentive during briefings.

These days I even think of ideas, which I NEVER used to do. I guess nothing gets the old noggin going like the fear of not being asked back next week.

So to sum up. If you yearn to be edgy and sharp like me and Kevin Costner, you should definitely go freelance.

(Or I suppose you could just work harder. But that kind of blows my whole theory out of the water.)

Happy New Year!

I wonder if this is the most middle class way you could end yourself? Jumping from the top floor of John Lewis on Oxford Street?

I reckon so. Particularly if you managed to impale yourself on some Jamie Oliver-endorsed kitchen utensils.

This is the kind of thought that plops into my mind when returning an item over the festive period, that's all.

On a similar note, I’ve been thinking about writing a murder mystery around a fantastically middle class killer. In the opening scene, a woman lifts the lid of her breadmaker to discover her husband’s severed head rolling around inside, sprinkled with organic poppy seeds.

Maybe it’s time I got an agent.

Are we the most important people on Earth? (Answer: yes.)

I’ve spent the past few days doing my best Florence Nightingale impression, nursing Mrs and Toddler RMWLC back to health from the oinky misery of Swine Flu.

Thankfully, I was spared the same horrid fate thanks to a flu jab arranged by my agency.

Not so Mrs RMWLC who, despite being an NHS professional, was left jab-less.

This is as it should be.

Say what you like about the Western worldview, when it comes to esteeming those roles in society that deserve it most, we’ve got it pretty much bang on.

After all can you imagine what would happen if, in the event of a pandemic, marketing types were unable to work? It doesn’t bear thinking about.

With no one to produce a steady stream of pointless communications persuading people to buy stuff they don’t really need, our society would surely crumble.

Douglas Adams covers this theme with aplomb in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

The Circling Poets of Golgafrincham decided to rid themselves of the useless third of their population (including hairdressers, telephone sanitisers and, yes, advertising folk).

So they concocted a story that their planet would shortly be destroyed by a 'mutant star goat’ and sent them away in a giant spaceship, B-Ark, promising to follow shortly.

The other two thirds of the population of course did not follow and ‘led full, rich and happy lives until they were all suddenly wiped out by a virulent disease contracted from a dirty telephone’.

Now, I'm aware that Adams mistakenly lumped ad folk into the ship of useless people. But my point is this.

As another year draws to a close, let’s take a moment to salute how marvellous and important we all are.

And be thankful that, should a plague wipe out most of our population, we’ll still be around to propagate the human race with a new breed of shallow, self-obsessed halfwits.

Merry Christmas one and all!

Christmasjumper-off

Behold, earthlings! My snazziest ever snazzy Christmas jumper.

I know what you're thinking, "Dave, you look fricking AWESOME in that, where can I get one?"

But I'm afraid this is a limited edition, bought for me by the munificent Mrs RMWLC last Christmas. With the advent of, um, advent, I figure it’s now okay to wear it. Or at least, as okay as it can ever be to wear a jumper like this.

If you think you can rival my Christmasjumperness, I’d love to see what you’ve got. (Although I should warn you, the nose ACTUALLY SQUEAKS and the antlers have real bells on.)

If you'd like to challenge me to a Christmasjumper-off, please take a photo and send it to realmenwritelongcopy at gmail dotcom

Kim Jong Il looking at things

Well worth a look. Here are a couple of my personal favourites.

Looking at wheat

Looking at a radish

Looking at a kitchen cabinet

IRELAND UNVEILS BAILOUT PLAN – The Guardian. Or, to put it another way...

via Reuben, via Boing Boing.

How to freelance. Lesson 1, extorting money.

As I’ve been freelancing for a couple of weeks now I’m something of an expert on the subject.

So I thought I’d begin spouting out my vast knowledge, in a new series cunningly titled How to freelance.

Let’s begin with the first task for any freelancer, the distasteful business of negotiating a fee.

As we all know, more important than the actual work is how much you can get away with charging for it.

Now if you’re anything like me (an incompetent coward) then you’re not really cut out for negotiating. So the moment that haggling begins, you’ll want to fold like a cheap suitcase.

However you must resist that urge. This is the time to play hardball.

Whatever they say, double it and add a nought or two. Make sure you maintain eye contact and try to add some menace to your voice. If they dare to hold your gaze, don’t be afraid to bare your teeth.

(If you’re not actually negotiating in person, no problem. You can achieve the same effect over the phone by shouting. Or, if you’re communicating by email, simply write in all caps.)

At this point they may ask you to justify your fee.

This is nothing to be fazed by. If you think about it, there are all kinds of reasons why they should pay what you're asking. You might make excellent tea, for example. Or, like me, have a cute ass.

The only rule when it comes to justifying fees is that UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD YOU MAKE PROMISES ABOUT THE QUALITY OF THE WORK YOU'LL PRODUCE. Trust me on this one. It will lead to all kinds of difficulties down the line.

Once you’ve agreed a fee, you might think that's the end of it. But there are still a few cunning tricks you can pull.

A favourite of mine is to add an extra hundred or two when you invoice. Agencies LOVE this, as it shows initiative and tenacity. And if there’s one thing creative directors are looking for, other than a cute ass, it’s initiative and tenacity.

Hopefully that’s enough advice for you to be going on with. I’ll be spewing out more wisdom on the actual work of a freelancer just as soon as I successfully negotiate my first job.

This one goes out to the Paveys

This blog is many things to many people.

To some, it's a way to pass those annoying last minutes before 5:30. To others, a mine of information on how to undermine and belittle your colleagues.

But what it has never attempted to be, nor indeed succeeded at being, is a source of humour.

Or so I thought.

Upon visiting my sister-in-law at the weekend, she informed me that she had found it humorous.

[Only my own literary snobbishness prevents me from inserting a massive smiley face here.]

Rach's compliment was especially gratifying as she is currently undergoing chemotherapy, which apparently isn’t as much fun as it sounds.

She told me she’s spent many of her feeling-ill-est hours reading from these turgid cyber-pages.

Although she didn’t actually say so, I think it’s fair to say that this blog is a single shining beacon of hope and joy in her life.

It would also be COMPLETELY accurate to say I inspired Rach to write her own blog, Rage against the lymphoma, chronicling the non-stop-fun of fighting Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

However, I must warn you: DO NOT READ IT.

I don’t say this because I’m intimidated by someone daring to take on a challenging and weighty subject and carrying it off with genuine wit and warmth. That’s not it at all.

I forbid you from reading it because she has TEN TIMES more readers than me.

Ten. Ruddy. Times.

Things like this make me wonder what’s the point of it all.

If people are more interested in reading an honest account of someone’s hopes and fears rather than banal observations on the shallow world of agency life, then I for one feel like giving up.

On the other hand, let’s not forget it’s ME that inspired her.

Which means they’re really my readers anyway.

P.S. I heart you Paveys XXX

End of an error

You missed the awesomest leaving do EVER last night. The DJ rocked da house.



But today a sombre mood has settled on the agency, as reality of my departure hits my colleagues like a sledgehammer of unhappiness wielded by a burly man of misery.

I may not have been the most popular person at Partners. Or the most talented. Or the least annoying.

But what I’ve always had is spunk. And if there’s one thing the modern agency needs, it’s spunky individuals.

I’m sure that Messrs Andrews and Aldridge are looking at one another right now and wondering where the spunk is going to come from.

Things are just as uncertain for me. I have no idea what the future holds. Apart from death and taxes. And the ridicule of my peers.

But whatever comes my way, I shall face it with the same cowardice and self-loathing with which I’ve faced everything in my career.

I know you can't wait to hear all about it.

P.S. Thanks Chris for the headline. Thanks Rich for the video. Thank you everyone else at Partners for loving and accepting me for who I REALLY am.

A fitting tribute

It doesn't happen often in the hard-nosed, cut-and-thrust, dog-eat-dog-eat-dog's-dog world of agency life, but just occasionally you really connect with someone.

You discover a common vision. They help you to be the very best at what you do. And, in some small way, you help them to be better too.

That kind of office chemistry is a special and rare thing.

Which makes it all the more upsetting when the powers that be decide that person is deemed surplus to requirements. Over the hill. Redundant.

I'm talking about my friend, Barney.

Barney is a printer here at Partners Andrews Aldridge. Or at least he was, until recently.

For he has printed his last copy doc.

As a tribute, I've created this video of our final moments together, set to James Blunt's stirring vocals.

Perhaps you've had someone like Barney in your life? A stapler. A ring binder. A laminator. If so, this video is for you.

Real Men Write Resignation Letters

The walls of Partners Andrews Aldridge are resounding to all manner of unseemly sobbing and wailing today, as news reaches the girls in account management that the agency's most manly hunk of throbbing masculinity is leaving.

That’s right, I’ve decided to go freelance.

Given the way the UK economy is stuttering along like an Austin Allegro on a cold Winter’s morning, and the fact I’m soon to be flattened by the financial haymaker of having a second child, I thought this would be a super time to cast aside all financial stability.

As you’d expect, everyone here at Partners is distraught at my departure. Although I must admit they’ve managed to mask their disappointment extremely well.

My art director in particular has been so supportive about the whole thing. Right from the moment I first floated the idea he’s been incredibly enthusiastic and helpful.

He's left articles on my desk about how great freelancing is. He even started posting encouraging motivational notes, like ‘Who dares wins!’ and ‘Be all you can be!’

Equally, my CD has tackled the toughest brief of his life with a passion bordering on relish. These are enormous shoes he has to fill. Shoes so big, they could almost be described as clown shoes. And yet, the way his eyes light up when he talks about ‘getting the upgrade’ is a sign of a man unfazed by the gargantuan nature of the task.

Now, you might be wondering why I’d leave a brilliant creative place like Partners. These are some reasons why I’m going freelance:

• I want to meet lots more people and experience loads of different stuff.
• It’s good to be scared. Sometimes.
• It feels like the right time in my career to do this.
• I believe I can fly. I believe I can touch the sky.
• If I don't get any work, I might finally get around to painting Baby RMWLC’s room.

This has never been a very comment-y type blog. Mainly because no one cares enough to comment. But this seems like a good topic to collect your thoughts on.

So tell me blogosphere, how should one behave on freelance? How do I stay employed? And what’s the etiquette with eating the staff biscuits?

And by the way Yes, leaving was my idea and No I wasn’t fired, thank you very much.


P.S. Why not have a look at davemance.com and tell me what you think of my work? Because I really could give the first one about your opinion.

Awesome 80s ads

If you're not interested in watching me making a right benny of myself on national TV, you might prefer to watch the adbreak.

Some real classics here.



Those teeth. I still have nightmares about those teeth.

Me, child superstar

In the olden days, there was no X-Factor. During these dark pre-Cowell years, people were instead served up dodgy quiz shows hosted by middle-aged men in velour sweaters. One such show, called Child's Play, featured megastar contestants such as Christopher Biggins, Jeremy Beadle, Lulu and Suzi Quatro, along with nauseatingly cute children. The premise of the show was that the aforementioned cute kids would describe a word, but without saying it. The contestants then had to guess the word. With hilarious consequences. You won't be at all surprised to hear I was one of those cute kids. Even at that young age, I was pretty ‘gifted’. As a result, they rarely featured me in the main part of the show. Instead, I was confined to the little bit before the ad breaks, known as the 'this is what happens when the kid's a bit simple' slot. To put it bluntly, I was a figure of fun. To six million viewers. This week I have finally had the celluloid footage converted to electro-bytes and stuck it on YouTube. I realise there’s no reason why you should find these clips remotely interesting but I’m sticking it up here anyway. Enjoy! (Or don’t, I don’t care.) To explain, I’d seen a model of a baby in the womb and when I asked my dad what the umbilical cord was, he said, “That’s how they eat”. Thanks for that, Dad.