I WANT TO MARRY A PRODUCER

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ROYER-TED.jpgby Ted Royer, executive creative director of droga5, New York.

  Producers are great. They are my favorite people in

  advertising. And I want to marry one. Since every

  single person I’ve met over the last 15 years works in

  advertising or some related industry, I’ve realized

  that I’m destined to marry an ad person. After a brief

  panic attack, I thought about producers and felt much

  better. I want to marry a producer.

  I don’t want to marry an account services person.

  Sure, they can take lots of pressure and abuse from

  the world, and they’re organized (a definite

  prerequisite for my future spouse), but we’d quickly

  realize that while we share many goals, ultimately,

  she may not care enough about my goals. And caring

  about my goals, or at least seeming to, is very

  important.

  I’m not going to marry a traffic person. They propel

  jobs through the agency and thus are obviously good at

  getting stuff done. But they cry too much. Or they

  yell too much. Or they cry while yelling. There is

  crying and yelling at some point in every marriage. I

  wish to keep it to the bare minimum in mine.

  Marrying another creative seems like a great idea. We

  would laugh together. We would dream together. We

  would make amazing plans together. But we wouldn’t

  know how to get any of those plans done or how to

  actually make anything happen. And then we would blame

  each other.

  I could marry one of my clients. We would have a great

  initial relationship. She would find me really funny

  and inventive, but over time, she might begin to doubt

  my motives and commitment. And she’d be right. Am I

  bored? Am I ultimately looking to trade up? Am I

  looking for a newer, fresher challenge? I’d be coy and

  say no. But the real answer would be… maybe.

  No, I want to marry a producer. A producer listens to

  the most batshit crazy idea and doesn’t say yes or no

  or ask why, but instantly asks “How?” She could talk

  me out of dumb things with grace and logic, or

  conversely show me what it’s possible to do with

  virtually nothing. A producer realizes that just as

  business and creativity need each other,

  responsibility (her) and irresponsibility (me) do too.

  A producer wouldn’t be afraid of different challenges,

  no matter what form they took. A producer would be

  tough, fighting battles I’d neither see nor even know

  about. A producer would plan for a rainy day and not

  even tell me she was doing it and then, when it

  started to rain, she’d say, “It’s covered, go over to

  the food table.” A producer would stay up all night

  partying with me, then make sure what needs to get

  done gets done, while I sleep. Marrying a producer

  would allow me to be as self-absorbed, self-indulgent,

  self-congratulatory, naval-gazing and “creative” as I

  want to be.

  Of course, I could always date someone outside of the

  industry and see what the rest of the world is like.

  But that would be weird.