That afternoon I caught up on some work and emailed my clients catchy taglines as placeholders. I already had semi-polished versions of the copy in mind, but this was my way of working the system and collecting cash from corporate machines that had not a cell of creative genetics. I particularly liked the stain-starch remover tagline: You’ve worked hard enough already. Altogether, though, my mind was elsewhere. It was as if I stumbled upon some ancient ruins in the middle of the Amazon – stuck in time, awaiting discovery.

I still couldn’t believe my luck. I expected the phone call any moment that would pull the plug on this little adventure. Especially after today – what a fucking rant. Who would have paid a single dollar for this? It was more money than I ever earned, and I had no idea where I was going, or what was supposed to happen next. Pick-up from here? Where the fuck was here?

While eating Chinese take-out and drinking a cold beer, I thought I should map out some future lessons in finer detail. I could swing this, I tried to convince myself as I drew an upside down horseshoe graph with some simple labels. 

The phone didn’t ring that day, either, aside from some nasally voice trying to sell me life insurance. After about 30 minutes, I told him I was a fire-swallower and we had a nice laugh.

chapter 8 >>