Because I'm an insane narcissist, I'll occasionally go undercover as a consumer, like King Harry walking the camp in disguise on the eve of the Battle of Agincourt. "How's that new model selling? What did you think of the radio ad? I thought it was pretty brilliant, myself."
Sad? Without question. Revealing? Yes, actually. And humbling. There's nothing I can do to sell a product that a surly clerk can't undo with a single frown. The horrible truth of our industry is that even the greatest multi-million dollar campaign ultimately hinges on whether the wage-slave behind the counter woke up on the wrong side of the bed.
That's not to say customers can't be utter bastards as well, mind you.
In other news, The Curse Of The "Half Days" Comic has claimed another victim. Jamie's Mac is smoking like a post-coital European, so this week's words vs. pictures update is going to be a little late as a result. We're shooting for Tuesday morning.
P.S. On a totally unrelated note, I'd like to say how happy I am to see the return of Phil, who was written out of a comic around this time last year. Apparently, he's since found work as a security guard. Go Phil!
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