By Alfie Hardman

The PRANGultimate day.  

 

 

10 am. 

 

It’s time. It’s Monday and therefore our last Monday townhall before the pièce de résistance that is our portfolio day. We had a bollocking from Marc and it was justified to be fair. The vibe in the studio last Friday was a pretty chilled one. Most people’s book scores including ours have been good but as we know this is the opposite of great. I started the morning doing some scamps, think there might be something in them… ah perhaps not. It’s the final push beyond the line and everyone’s feeling it. But why does this drifty feeling outweigh what should be a studio of preeming with nervous energy? I’m pretty sure it won’t last long. It does sort of feel a though our tires have been deflated a tad. 

 

11 am. 

 

Social media is a total no go and has been for the last week. It’s tormenting to see your friends railing in the sea and sunshine. My feed must be littered with festival snaps. To be honest there’s not that much time to feel bitter about it. I don’t anyway. I just want a job at an amazing agency with an epic ECD and that’s all that matters.   

 

12 am. 

 

A good book crit at Droga5. After some positive feedback, I’m starting to feel this “to do” list is more manageable. It has now trebled but it’s do-able, do-able, do-able. We’ve realized we’ve got a campaign that needs to go and a new one to take its place must be made. You never know, sometimes brilliance comes out having a bit/some/lots/tonnes of pressure on you. Not the first time at least. 

 

1 pm. 

 

I’m feeling soup for lunch. I’m also feeling it’s well deserved. As always I’m slightly jealous of Marc’s Deliveroo, now more than ever. 

 

4 pm.         

 

Well, it turns out pressure doesn’t always give birth to great ideas but we’re making headway. The proposition is nailed and executions are flowing… somewhat. This so-called make a quick press ad mockup have devoured most of the afternoon. Sometimes iterating can feel like wading through thick mud. It doesn’t even feel like an achievement when you finish because you’re pranging out that someone will glide past, pay a glance at the work and in one sentence kill the idea entirely. But putting it up on the wall for all to see is the right thing to do. God forbid we take it to portfolio day and ECD ripes it apart then. Oh god, oh fuck. That’s a horrific thought. This calls for a two-minute ciggie break. 

 

5 pm. 

 

I’m feeling somewhat better. All those annoying little things to change have been done and now the focus is on crafting this new campaign. 

 

6 pm. 

 

I badly needed a walk and went for one. The usual Brixton weirdos are out in force. There’s a bizarre energy in the air for a Monday night. Nice to see others getting on with their lives.  

 

7 pm. 

 

Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Why can’t we find better executions for this fucking campaign?!  

 

8 pm. 

 

The man with the keys has some to lock up. We’re being asked to leave and everyone is looking pretty shattered. I suspect most of us will be taking work home, moi included. 

 

Over and out.