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forbade Oliver and I approaching our existing clients for the next three years. Of course, that did not prevent those clients approaching us once the news got out that we were quitting and branching out on our own. So one or two who trusted our abilities solicited us instead. We gained two quite big accounts that way, but we needed a third large one to make us viable.
    We went after new business with a passion, toiling day and night to come up with outstanding presentations and better marketing strategies than the companies already had. Media buying was handled by Sydney for a while, until we were established enough to bring someone in on a full-time basis. We ruthlessly targeted any business that we felt was right for us and whom we considered was receiving less than perfect service—mediocre advertising, poor media choices, etc.—from their existing agency, and we failed to win them over more times than we succeeded. Nevertheless, through sheer nerve, perseverance and, I like to think, talent, we gained three new clients, one medium-sized and two smaller, but easily making up for the third biggie we thought we needed. Heady days, and you know what? I miss them. Yeah, I miss a lot of things… We called it gtp in the fashion of the day, the acronym for Guinane, True, Presswell, of course, set in Baskerville lower case, letters touching. It looked pretty cool.
    The agency did take off. Around town we became known as a creative hot shop and we began pitching for and acquiring more and more accounts, some blue chip but mainly clients who wanted that little bit of extra creativity in selling their products, clients who were not afraid to take fresh marketing leaps that would not go unnoticed by the public or the trade. You’d be surprised how many big budget spenders could only live with the known, concepts without risk, strategies that dared not stray from formula or jeopardize the marketing manager’s position. Internal politics are always rife in both small corporations and big ones (the bigger the worse, in fact) and they’re third only to advertising, which, as I’ve said, is second only to politics itself.
    The companies that came to us were already aware of our reputation for risk taking and they were usually primed for something different. Maybe nothing truly off the wall, but at least something individual. We didn’t win everything we pitched for by any means—easy to say you’re looking for something “different”, but not always easy to go with it once it’s presented—but we acquired enough business to expand our offices and staff. We even managed to win a few advertising awards along the way, all voted for by our peers in the industry itself.*
    *Interestingly, now that Oliver and I were joint bosses, we actually felt more responsibility towards our clients. A long-standing joke in advertising circles is how an art director is constantly devising ways of including a palm tree in the left-hand corner of his layout no matter what the product might be because it meant a photo-shoot somewhere in the Bahamas, a beautiful excursion for himself (and possibly, but not necessarily, for the copywriter) accompanied by glamorous models, plus photographer and his assistants (you couldn’t sell dog food this way, you might insist, but don’t think it hasn’t been tried). Another and even more heavily disguised objective is the D&AD award for best advertising, when fabulous—and very expensive—film or TV commercials (or brilliantly smart ones, but a little oblique as far as selling the product is concerned) are proposed by the agency. These litter the whole media range, great concepts that fail to do their job because the brand name either goes unnoticed, or is never remembered (I’m sure you could mention one or two wonderful TV commercials without recalling the brand they were selling).
    It’s a vanity that reveals a lack of respect for the client, but then, more fool the client who allows it to happen. The