No Ta PR: All Mouth and No Brass.

So since I've embarked on this new voyage of apparently interesting anecdotes I figure I'd drop some science on the perils of trying to work with pseudo creatives, or as their better known; con men. I say men, our antagonist for this outing is in fact the female of the species (since were going across the board with Liverpool references here).

I, like many people born with the albatross of growing up in a small town with the ability to articulate yearn for something more, like an intellectual Disney Princess (analogy applies more to some than others, you know who you are). So with my literary accoutrements, love affair with the tech and occasional ability to pull an idea out of thin air I made the life choice that Digital Media would be the thing to take me to my golfing and/or crippling arthritis days.

Now, before I go on I will impart some absolutely imperative advice: If you decide that something like this is also your game, you're probably younger than me and making all the bigger ball ache of moving my career along. But seriously, in spite of the forthcoming tale of uselessness and woe I can't stress how important it is to get as much experience as you can. You will not be paid, you will be extended to your last iota of good will and you will make your body weight in tea infinitely multiplied, but it all pays off in ways you could only imagine when you finally get your seat at the table, so keep at it, and other PMA trimmings. 

Business and creativity go hand in hand, in that they're both short hand for yarn spinning contests. So you can only imagine the characters you will meet in a life dedicated to the business of being creative. I had done my time for the greater good of a reasonable amount of PR and Digital Media firms when I landed on a boutique firm based amid the cream of Liverpool's places to be. A new, young and brash business had opportunity written all over it and after some selling of ones aforementioned skill set I'd finally found my seat at the table, I was in. 

Like all responsible businesses there was a trial period to make sure that I wasn't all talk, challenge firmly accepted as I've found that my true aptitude for something is more exposed under fire than cultivated. I took no time aquatinting myself with clients and was even fortunate enough to catch a few bones pitching to new ones, this all felt like your good trainers, However like your good trainers eventually they fall to bits from under you. 

Time passed, as in like Gone with the Wind. Whatever ideas of a probationary period had long gone out of the window and it was now beginning to cost me both time and expense to keep up with the apparent brains of the operation. A woman who emplored the Mussolini method of being hip, adamant in her convictions but ultimately a second string someone or something else. 

I'll make a small caveat to my advise from earlier; If you find yourself in a position where your independent business owner/employer is spending £1000 on a dog during office hours, yet you're not having as much as your expenses covered, leave.

This tale of whimsey and uselessness does have somewhat of an anti climatic ending, but with big lessons learnt. After presumably collapsing under the weight of her own ego (no rubenesque jokes here, were all above that) my would be employer took the earnings of a half baked and less than half finished job and ran, never to be seen or heard of by these eyes or ears again. 

One more equally required string needed on your bow is a Konami code like ability to take positives of any situation, good, bad or an over priced mutant that pisses all over your desk, its all lessons in the circle of life (because you can't have too many nods to Disney).