Again? Reflections on advertising, creativity, and layoffs.

The siren song of a creative career has drawn me in since I discovered that the words “creative” and “career” could land next to each other. What more beautiful scam than getting to write and ideate for a living.

From the moment I set sail on my journey to Adland, I encountered grizzled mentors warning me of the risks ahead. If you’re reading this, you’ve undoubtedly met them, too. And, you also likely have firsthand knowledge of the foolhardy confidence of youth that quietly and politely conceals laughter in response.

“Everyone in advertising gets laid off at some point. Most people, more than once.” Sure, everyone else does. But not me. No, not someone who lives, breathes, eats, sleeps, reads, and shits advertising. Not someone who leans in so far they blur the line between career and obsession. And, until the pandemic hit, “not me” rang true.

Well. Yesterday, I was laid off for the second time in less than a year. The second time since I last stepped foot in an actual office.

Now what?

Since I dove headfirst into advertising, I set a course for the most creative opportunities I could find. Do I continue chasing my dream? Do I aim to land a Wieden, Gut, or Mischief on my resume? After all, what’s the point of a creative career if the work isn’t creative?

Or will the more creative opportunities simply sniff out my fraudulence and fire me faster? The imposter syndrome stitched to my soul certainly thinks so. It bellows to me that my work ethic and determination have pulled me to waters far too deep for my creativity and talent to swim.

My significant other seconds the call to course correct, telling me I should just find a role somewhere stable, somewhere comfortable. To consider a future on the “life” side of work-life balance. It’s an enticing proposition, supposedly containing less stress, no layoffs, and spending more time with a certain floppy-eared dog who makes me happier than a Lion ever could.

Yet, I’m skeptical. Skeptical that “safe” opportunities are attainable or easy. Or exist. And unsure that if they do, they’re the correct choice for me. I know the perils of chasing creativity, but I’m also acquainted with the spoils.

I’m at a fork in the river. Time to forge forward.