It was late 2009. My Creative Director’s Honda was pushed to the limits on the road from Bucharest to Brasov. We were on the shortlist at the AdPrint advertising festival. My first nominalisation at any ad event ever. I was happy as hell. I was flying. 4 hours later I’m on stage drunk and high on weed. Bronze. K-Pow, bitches!
“Can I keep it?!”
“No!”
“Wait, what? Why?!”
“It’s not yours. It’s the agency’s.”
“Aw fuck this, dude! Can I get a hold of it until Monday?”
“Just don’t lose it, alright?”
“Yea, man, whatever.”
I’m holding the piece. It’s a heavy bronze plated iron statue of an angel. I shouldn’t lose it, so I’m on my way to the club’s wardrobe to put it in my backpack. A big Donkey Kong wannabe bouncer stops me.
“Hold it, fool!”
“Excuse me?”
“What’s that?!”
“My award!”
“Award? Ah you one of the winners. Is it gold?”
“Bronze.”
“Is it expensive?”
At this point I’m not sure depositing it in my backpack at the wardrobe is a good idea. This motherfucker’s eyes were shining like Christmas lights.
“No, it’s not.”
“It’s a bronze trophy, man, how the fuck is that not expensive?!”
“Well, it’s just plated“
“Cheap bastards. Why were you holding on to it so tight and smiling like you hit the lottery then?”
“It’s an appreciation of my work, dude.”
“Yea, whatever, just put it somewhere safe; one of these fools around here might think it’s their lucky night and you’ll leave the club without your appreciation.”
Three years later I would be stealing myself one of those, but that’s another festival, another story.