I used to be a reasonably sane, somewhat boring human being.
A decaf-latte type. Soft opinions. Cardigans in spring.
But then, I entered advertising.
And suddenly, the whisper began:
“Be bold, brave, and different.”
Like everyone else around you.
So I studied the uniform: all-black wardrobe, circle glasses, “creative” sneakers that cost 2x rent in the countryside. I downloaded the dialect: Droga quotes, W+K worship, performative disdain for briefs (until the client calls). I learned the ritual: the gravel-voiced manifesto, the slow-mo footage, the obligatory NGO spot no one asked for.
Within months… well, maybe years, I became it: The Average Adman.
You know the vibe: he sits on stools in panel talks, says “storytelling” like it’s sacred scripture, has at least one Medium piece titled “Advertising is dead.”
I mastered the cult choreography:
→ Arrive late, but ideologically.
→ Drag “mediocrity” while designing the same carousel for three FMCG clients.
→ Use “disruptive” to describe oat milk. Again.
They… (They is not an actual person but an entity that hunts the industry)… So yes, they told us to be brave but only in pre-approved, pastel-safe ways. Say something “radical,” just not enough to spook any client director. Push boundaries, until legal coughs. Be rebellious but backed by a 42-slide Keynote and a safety net of case studies.
And you start to wonder: Are we admen or just content sommeliers, sniffing notes of disruption in the algorithm’s latest blend? What once felt electric, risk, point of view, gut instinct…. got rewired into compliance. And by pitch five, “breaking the rules” started to feel like buying it on subscription.
It felt as if the industry didn’t want individuals. It wanted a very specific kind of different. Different but pre-approved, pitch-safe, Instagrammable. In fact, what looked like rebellion was just onboarding. We weren’t hired to invent. We were hired to repackage. To turn bold into safe.
By year three, I wasn’t making ideas. I was crafting tributes: homages to Cannes winners past, strung together with slightly edgier fonts. A remix of last year’s disruption, with better lighting and a subtle touch of DE&I.
We didn’t break the mold. We built a store selling it in four neutral tones. We drank the Kool-Aid. And then rebranded it for Gen Z with a pastel palette and a paid influencer collab.
And the kicker?
It’s not that advertising rejected originality. It just that more often than not, the industry draged it through so many “alignment meetings” it ends up as a shampoo ad narrated by Morgan Freeman’s cousin.
The real enemy wasn’t mediocrity. It was the performance of originality. The illusion of individuality, printed in Helvetica across every glass wall:
“Be Bold. Be Brave. Be Exactly Like the Last Award-Winning Case Study.”
This industry didn’t kill creativity. It replaced it, very efficiently, with a “brave” idea that works across 14 formats and already has a paid media plan.
Why am I writing in past tense? Well, with AI I’m not sure that industry I meet a few days ago even exists anymore. Or maybe it’s just a wish because humans we are very good at doing the same differently. New tools, same shit. Hope I’m wrong (Damn, I know I’m not).
In fact, that’s also the true genius of advertising: Tell you to stand out, while handing you the costume. Give you the mold and told you it’s clay. Send you to Cannes, to realize: everyone’s wearing the same black t-shirt, quoting the same truths, chasing the same algorithm.
But that’s okay.
It really is.
It unites us.
Makes us part of a herd.
So, we’re not alone.
We just are…
The Average Adman.
Bold. Brave. Undifferent.
(Voiceover by gravel guy, obviously.)
PS: So yes, if still needed, I’m here to help you fit in, within the different herd.
Uniforms sold separately here.
