Bluesy

I’m not a perpetual Miss Sunshine, by any means, but I think I’m fairly happy most of the time. Lately, though, I think the balance has been swinging elsewhere. Into Grey-Blah-Hopeless Land. Or some such equivalent place.

I can’t keep a positive outlook for more than an hour at a time. I snap at my husband repeatedly. Because he’s there and it’s easier to target him. I sigh. A lot. I get frustrated about nearly everything and whatever patience I’ve learned to possess has drained away, possibly to never again be found.

It doesn’t get better when I look at the job listings in the cities Scott’s been exploring. In fact, it gets worse.

One listing in DC actually reads: Conceited Copywriter Wanted

UGH!

Other trite phrases that make me want to crawl:

“Do you ache to write killer copy?”
“…lust for greatness…”
“Your work wins the awards we covet.”

WHATEVER. Seriously. I wish these places would get over themselves. It gives me very little hope that I’ll find a job where I can just come in, do the best that I can, contribute to a team, and be appreciated.

I’m not a superstar and I never have been. What I try to do is create copy and concepts that really resonate with the end user and get them to respond. Whether I win an award for that is pretty meaningless. And having a Texas-sized ego isn’t going to make me a valuable employee.

Sometimes I really, really, really hate advertising.

Really.

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