Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Essay 3063


The missive above ran in a recent Advertising Age Letters To The Editor section. Don’t mean to overreact, but in many respects, it spotlights the growing issue of ageism on Madison Avenue.

F. Stone Roberts is undoubtedly a well-meaning, upstanding citizen. But he also appears to be a standard prick, representing his peeps in stereotypical fashion.

Roberts is divisive, judgmental and condescending—displaying the arrogance that contributes to our industry’s global exclusivity. The defensive tone, probably fueled by paranoia, comes off as offensive. Roberts’ exposition is rife with “we” and “us” versus “they” and “them.” Whassup with that?

Roberts boasts the 4As committee of “CEOs and the ‘influential of the industry’” probes topics ranging “from the ever-evolving industry model to emerging digital media to diversity in the workplace.” Hey, somebody draft a memo when our leaders hatch directions and solutions for any of the listed subjects.

Roberts notes the absence of specific folks at “the big-boy table.” His revelation speaks volumes. Would anyone not resembling a “big boy” even feel welcome at the summit?

The labeling of Young Turks widens the generational gaps, especially when delivered with sneering sarcasm. Can’t imagine Roberts and his posse would appreciate being tagged as Old Guns or Elder Hacks by the professional community. One can only guess how minorities are addressed in these meetings.

Roberts insists that if the Young Turks “are contributing, it certainly isn’t obvious to anyone.” Not sure why the Old Guns make such proclamations, as if deciding their own ignorance must be shared by everyone. Maybe it’s time for them to quit playing with their 401k plans long enough to observe the landscape and use their collective voice.

Roberts closes by announcing, “It is time to let the Young Turks out of the cage, but it’s our job to make sure they don’t blow up the place.” An admission of segregation and oppression coupled with an invitation featuring dictatorial restrictions.

Bravo, Old Gun, bravo!

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