On the Campaign couch… with JB

Q

I run a small but perfectly formed agency where we pride ourselves on our relationship with our clients. I am under pressure from backers to grow our client roster and have been invited to work for a small but growing political party whose view of the world is completely at odds with my own. Should I listen to my gut? I sympathise with your dilemma but not with your use of the first person singular. You’re disinclined to take on this small but growing political party because its view of the world is completely at odds with your own.

It’s obviously difficult to run an agency on the basis of daily referendums but, when faced with a controversial potential client, it’s always a good idea to consider – and, if necessary, consult – the views of yourstaff. And those of your existing clients as well.

Party political clients are unlike any other: irrespective of budget, they can dominate an agency in both workload and reputation. Not a lot happens for much of the time – though senior people, you included, will be expected to be available night and day, seven days a week when the leader calls.

Then comes an election campaign – and the agency instantly loses control of its own logistics. Excellent account people, responsible for the agency’s major bits of business and who weren’t that keen on taking on the party in the first place, now find they’re without a team. For a week or two, total meltdown.

Even if, come polling day, your client does surprisingly well, it won’t end up in government; your agency will have lost whatever identity it might have enjoyed; and you’ll have lost a lot of money and a few priceless colleagues.

You’ve got much better reasons for passing up this high-profile newbusiness opportunity than your own personal political prejudices – even though they happen to converge.

Q

There has been a reshuffle in the office and, after three months in my new job, I’ve been given a promotion. This has not gone down well with colleagues who have been at the company longer. Should I just say I’m amazing so they can just get over it? I suppose it depends on how you see your future with this company – or any company, come to that. You may be entirely happy with the thought of being the permanent outsider: nobody’s best mate, universally unpopular, totally dependent on performance for survival, with no reservoir of affection to help you through when fortune seems to have abandoned you.

If your role model is Kevin Pietersen, then you’ve got it made. Tell them you’re amazing – while making it clear you know they’re not. Tell them to get over it. Stalk into the nearest office with a door – and shut it behind you. If you’re happy with all that, then go right ahead – and good luck.

You won’t want to be told what you’ll thereby miss – but I’ll tell you anyway: it’s soft, soppy stuff, mainly. Being almost as pleased when others get it right as you are when you do. Knowing you can admit to being without an idea in your head and confidently expecting productive abuse. Covering for Belinda’s hangover. Sharing extremely silly jokes.

But enough of all that… As an amazing person, you’ve got better things to think about. You, for example.