The Sung will come out, tomARVO
FROM THE VAULT: July 13, 2018
Sung is one classy broad. Besides being the Korean Mother Hen to Joo, Joo and Ju, Sung has easily been the office’s best-dressed employee for over eight years – which at FutureBrand, isn’t saying much. While the rest of us wear jeans, pit-stained t-shirts and shoes that never were in style, Sung breezes in every morning wearing outfits that are (a) clean, (b) pressed, (c) in fashion and (d) not puked on.
Only Mark at 10 years, Scott Williams at 12 years and Tom Li at 87 years have been at FutureBrand longer than Sung. But unlike that pin-up crew of beefcake, Sung looks the same, if not better than when she first started. Which is amazing when you think of the projects she’s worked on: American Airlines, Axalta, Time Warner, Cadillac, Time Warner, Hard Rock, the NFL, Time Warner, Tupperware, Sentry and Time Warner. Sure she’s had a couple of heart procedures over the years, and can regularly be heard screaming into her pillow late at night. But when the sun comes up and that big rig, diesel-powered CAD desktop of hers rumbles to life, Sung’s always had a smile on her face and matching heels on her feet.
Sung was one of the first people I met when I joined FutureBrand. Wow, I thought to myself on the March morning six years ago. FutureBrand really has its shit together. I better up my wardrobe game. Then I met Mark. And Malozzi. And Lloyd. And Kris Pelletier, crammed into a Detective Sipowicz short-sleeve, seersucker shorts and shoes with no socks.
“You know she hates you, right?” That was my introduction to Beth, arms crossed, pointing towards Sung.
“Sung hates me?” I said. “But I just met her.”
“Yeah, she hates you.” Beth replied. “That’s the thing about Sung, you think she likes you, but she actually hates you. I respect that."
"Me, I don’t discriminate,” Beth added. "I hate everybody. E-V-E-R-Y BAH-DEE.”
For years I was terrified of her. Sung I mean, not Beth. Well actually both of them. Especially Beth. I was told Sung carried knives and was taking kickboxing classes. On weekends she disappeared to her secret lair upstate where she kept a cache of guns and belonged to a local militia group. On Monday mornings, Sung smiled and asked how my weekend was.
“Fine! It was fine! Fine, fine, fine! Please don’t hurt me!”
Four years later, deep into an ARVO Friday night, Beth came up to me and said: “You know I was fucking with you, right? Sung doesn’t hate you. I don’t know if she actually likes you, but she doesn’t hate you. But don’t mess with her. Or she will kill you.” To our knowledge, Sung made it an entire eight years without amassing a hefty body count. But somebody better check the Shhhhh Romm tonight before she leaves for the last time.
Fellow FutureBranders, put your hands together and raise your glasses high. Tonight we retire another all-time FutureBrand great’s jersey (or in Sung’s case, Armani suit) to the rafters. For one week at least, leave your doilies and your Earl Grey at home. This ain’t no Friday afternoon tea party. The company’s generously springing for a good ole fashioned out-of-the office ARVO at Hudson Malone. $500 cap y’all, and no food. Please spend it all on alcohol. Or as they say at the North Pole, Merry Christmas!
And please keep Beth away from the Jameson. After a few pops, she tends to get a bit salty.
They call me mellow mARVO
It all begins with an idea.
FROM THE VAULT: September 1, 2017
Hi, sorry, it’s Beth. The Writing team is busy working on super annoying client work so I’m pitching in. Just don’t expect much, ok. I’m not a word person. That’s their job. My job is to babysit you assholes and wrangle stupid clients. God they’re stupid. Anyway, I offered to help. Just don’t ask me to cook, I said, because I don’t cook. My oven is full of shoes and has been since the day I moved in. There could be a family of squirrels living in there for all I know. How would I know? I wouldn’t know. I don’t cook.
Anyway, the Writing team is working on a bunch of stupid client work. Bell Helicopters (oh great another Dallas client), Holiday Inn (bed bugs), Dairyland (I hate cows), Forever 21 (more like Forever 1987), Cadillac (Agh! James Cockerille flashback!), Ralph Lauren (yeah, his real name is Lifshitz), RISE Costa Rica (annoying hippies), Rich’s (horrible), Vizient (terrible), ViaSat (nightmare) and Zwift (I don’t even know what that is, but it sounds stupid). Ugh, our clients are the worst. I hate everybody. Ev-er-ee-bah-dee.
The good news is that it’s a three day weekend. Thank god. I can’t take this place one more second. Fun fact, do you know who started Labor Day? Don’t ask me, I don’t know. What do I look like, Alex Trebek? All I know is that it’s one less day a year I have to be here. Although I’ll probably end up working on Monday. Then I have to fly to Dallas on Tuesday morning, so my week is already shot. Ugh, I need a vacation. I hate this place. I wish they would fire me already. Simon…Jim…I volunteer.
Anyway, here’s the part where I’m supposed to tell you where to go for ARVO. But only like five of you decided to show up today and we don’t have any money, so too bad. I'll be out of here at 4:59:59, unless one of my clients calls and ruins my good mood.
I’ve got chills, they’re ARVOplying
FROM THE VAULT: July 21, 2017
You better shape up, FutureBrand.
Cause Patrick Smith’s about to land (about to la-a-and).
And his heart is set on you.
You better shape up, FutureBrand.
You better understand.
The British Invasion is part of his master plan.
And there’s nothing left (nothing left) for you to do.
You’re the one that he wants.
You are the one he wants.
You, you, you. Honey.
You’re the one that he wants.
You are the one he wants.
To make him more money.
You, you, you.
That’s right, fellow FutureBranders. The British Invasion will soon be complete. You may have missed a small, seemingly innocuous tidbit buried deep inside last week’s global update. Patrick Smith, CEO of FutureBrand Global, will soon set sail for New York Harbor. But this ain’t the branding equivalent of the Beatles touching down at JFK in the early 60s. There won’t be hordes of teenage girls lined up and losing their shit along the tarmac awaiting Patrick's arrival. But rest assured, there will be screams.
Why’s everyone so freaked out about this? Are you afraid he’s going to fire all of us?
“Hi, sorry, Beth here. He can fire me. I volunteer.”
Or are you worried that he’ll replace all of our “z’s” with “s’s”, chicken wings with a proper Sunday Roast and sports where teams actually score points with soccer, cricket, rowing and darts?
Relax. You have nothing to fear. FutureBrand is, after all, the Epcot Center of branding. Since I’ve been here we’ve had Germans, Koreans, Chinese, Indonesians, Icelanders, Aussies, Turkish, Canadians, Brazilians, Italians and whatever planet Quae is from. Since when are we scared of a few Brits? Even if they have the power to whack us, or worse yet, make us work on the Verizon account.
The English have been amongst us for years. Besides playing every single character on every single American TV show and movie, we’ve welcomed Brits into our office since Graham Vard arrived three years ago (and then POOF! disappeared two years later). Sure he was the Irish canary our London office sent over to make sure the air was breathable and the chips were crisp. Soon after Clare-Louise arrived, though she was so quiet we didn’t notice her for months. Then came Polly. She talks so much there’s thought that maybe she’s actually an American with a faux British accent like Madonna and Chris Nurko. Then came Simon, and his love of brilliant British-isms that leave Enshalla scratching her head (Come on, E. Everyone knows what “damp squid” and “bent as a nine-bob note” means). Patrick Smith lands later this year. Soon after, David Beckham himself will be sitting next to Tom Li.
But this isn’t a time to draw lines or fear one another. This isn’t Brexit vs. Trump. Man U. vs. the Red Bulls. Us vs. Them. Now, more than ever, we need to unite, hand in hand across the pond, on an issue of grave importance, one that threatens our future more than any balance sheet or Weber Shandwick uprising.
We need ARVO back in all its glory.
Sure belts need to be tightened and snacks orders need to be postponed. But ARVO should not suffer. It’s the one true place where FutureBranders have always come together (over free hooch) to tear down the walls that separate us and bond as a team, and as friends. ARVO wasn’t meant to be locked up in a conference room cage. ARVO is a cock-strutting tiger out on the pub prowl, not some domesticated house cat licking Kris Pelletier’s whiskers over brie and a blush rosé.
To represent the unity, unbreakable bond and incredible hair we share with our British colleagues, please enjoy the below poster. Maybe we should start a gofundme campaign to buy Malozzi hair plugs. You think he walks with a strut now, just imagine him with THAT head of hair.
Go, go, go Shorty, it's your last day. We gonna ARVO like it's your last day.
FROM THE VAULT: August 24, 2016
Ana Gannod stood nine feet tall on her first day at FutureBrand. She was whisper quiet, too. Demure. Some might even say soft-spoken.
Four years later she’s the reigning all-agency limbo champ without barely bending over. And the wall of Marshall amps at a Metallic concert wedged behind her vocal cords is permanently dialed up to 11.
So what wore fair Ana down to a pencil-sized nub? What turned her into a twirling tsunami of neck vein popping, perma-spiral spouting?
Was it her client roster? From Dow to Exelon and Elanco to Lafarge and CH2M, a who’s who wet dream of heavy industrial and chemical manufacturers in exotic locations across America’s Rust Belt?
Was it the move to midtown? Next question, please.
Was it a hatred of acronyms?
Was it on strict doctor’s orders?
Ultimatums from her family?
The clarity that comes from withdrawing from a heavy narcotics addiction? Or the cotton candy calm that comes with starting a heavy narcotics addiction?
Was it the fact that she’s out of fucks to give?
Or was it that, deep down inside, Ana’s just a sweet, sensitive soul who feels terrible about yelling at the designers. And production team. And strategists. And writers. And fellow account members. And the executive team. All 573 of them.
Fellow FutureBranders, today we sadly retire another OG’s jersey to the rafters. What we’ll save in Advil costs we’ll definitely lose in someone who was absolutely incredible at her job. And giving us all a polite little tap on the shoulder and whisper in the ear when we were slacking at our own.
Please join us at 6pm Hudson Malone. Brian Shu isn’t here, so it’s champagne and caviar all night long. Just be sure to bill it to the Vizient client.
ARVO on the eyes
FROM THE VAULT: April 22, 2016
Sometimes, fellow FutureBranders, we get so distracted by things like work and clients and stuff that we forget to acknowledge just how strikingly handsome Brian Meyers really is. Now I'm not talking about above average good looks here. I’m saying that as a happily married middle aged married man I’m actually distracted by how handsome Brian Meyers truly is.
Admit it. All of you are, too.
Throughout the years the men of FutureBrand have been cited for many attributes. Drunk, yes. Sweaty, check. Smelly, yeah kinda. But handsome? Let’s just say that we’re not exactly distracting the ladies around here. And with Felix on walkabout, we can’t even fill one month on a bohunk calendar shoot.
Then along came Brian Meyers. Everything he does looks effortless and stylish. Great dresser. Never wrinkles. Great hair. Amazing posture. He’s like a gazelle that walks amongst us trolls.
Who here hasn’t sat across from Brian in a meeting and gotten lost in his McDreamy gaze. Who here hasn’t run the numbers on what they would sacrifice to be Brian, even just for one day? Kidney? Damn right. Chipotle? No problem. The ability to see, taste, smell and hear? Where do I sign up?
I often wonder why Brian works here at all. First because he must be incredibly grossed out by the rest of us and second because, well, would you put PowerPoint presentations together for a living if you were that good looking? I sure wouldn’t. But then I look like what Brian would look like if he let himself go. And I mean really let himself go. And then fell into the ocean and washed up on the shore six months later.
OK, an over-it and very thirsty Veronique is giving me the wrap-it-up sign. She wants to get going to ARVO already where she’ll gladly share Brian with the rest of us (“No I won’t!”). So pencils down and head over to Cornerstone, 52nd and 2nd. Tina, Frida and Mariana have requested an outdoor drinking space. There we will toast to another week in the books and wish Scott Luftig good luck and good grades. Today’s his last day before transitioning from the notional world of branding into the very real world of law school. Brian will definitely need Scott’s legal services when he passes the bar. Restraining orders against happy hour harassment don’t come cheap.
Mr. ARVOchev, tear down this wall
FROM THE VAULT: February 5, 2016
The lights on Broadway dimmed this week with news of the sudden dismantling of the Wall of “Creativity” behind Mark’s desk. Sure it was fun while it lasted. And yes, can you believe the powers that be actually allowed its in-your-face message to be, well, in our face for as long as it was.
But where are we to turn for inspiration now?
The Sassy Cats of Connecticut calendar on Kris Pelletier’s desk?
The Gogo Wireless logo between Scott and Beth?
The gallon of vodka hidden behind the binder clips in the Production room (and don’t any of you fucking touch it!).
Where have you gone, Steve the Inflatable Comfortable Shark? We need you to shake that little mechanical tail of yours and tell us it’s all going to be okay.
What’s that you say, Tanieka Farrington? Deflated Steve has left and gone away. Quae, Quae, Quae.
No need to spiral, my friends. You just need to appreciate the blank wall for its blankness. Not in the absence of something else, but rather for the beauty in its simplicity. We don’t need a bunch of crap crammed on the walls to inspire us. Some of us prefer white on white on white on white. And clearspace rules that stretch as far as the Swiss Alps. You Americans are always whining about what you don’t have. I want more of this. And I want more of that. Waa. Waa. Waa. Now you have beautifully designed Cadillac dealership ads and a blank wall to stare at to remind you that the rest of the world doesn’t give a scheisse what you think. Also, TURN DOWN YOUR ROCK AND ROLL MUSIC! Danka.
Damnit, Tina. I knew I should’ve locked my computer. Gone for two minutes and you go and class up the joint with your Jedi German wisdom.
Fives weeks in the books, FutureBrand. Only 47 more to go. So stop staring at the wall, put your heads down, and get some work done already. Or…you can join us at Jameson’s, 975 Second Avenue between 51st and 52nd. Special guest Holmfridur will be there. What’s that? Special guest Holmfridur will not be there. She just returned from three days of eating nothing but mayonnaise and cheese in Wisconsin—a culinary catastrophe. You’ll find her mainlining kale at Whole Foods instead.
The ARVOter of cool
FROM THE VAULT: January 29, 2016
Face it, we live in a swipe right you’re hot, swipe left you’re not world. What used to take weeks of wooing is now determined with the fickle flick of a horny Millennial’s finger.
But thankfully, when it comes to knowing what’s cool, history has provided us with a Murderer’s Row of badass motherfuckers so chill, you’d swear their dandruff was made from snowflakes.
Miles Davis.
James Dean.
Frank Sinatra.
Burt Reynolds.
Jack Nicholson.
Dr. J.
Mr. T.
Chester the Cheetos Cheetah.
But how are a bunch of brand strategists like us supposed to know when something is indeed hip, happening and occasionally, downright out of sight? We could spend five months and 400 grand on quant research. Or we could look to one of our own as a best practice. The contenders please…
There’s Tom Li…he drives the chicas in Spanish Harlem so wild they refer to him as “Jose Frijo”
There’s Pat Benatar….sorry Joan Jett…sorry I meant Alicia Fowler and her ever-evolving edgy look. #dontlookatmeoldman, #idontlikelabels, #ummwhospatbenatar
There’s Kris Pelletier and the Production team! (Jamahl, ditch the nerds and we’ll talk)
There’s our executive management team…they’re like the cool parents in high school who let all your friends party in their house. They buy us beer every Friday and let us show up late to work in the professional world's version of third period.
There’s the too cool for school threesome of Mark, Amanda K. and Felix. ARVO emails are so lame, jabroni. Yeah man ARVO emails are lame man. Yeah lame. But not us we’re solid. Yeah man we’re solid man. Yeah solid. Ha ha ha ha ha. Yeah man ha ha ha ha ha man. Yeah ha.
But one true contender rises above the sea of pretenders. And not just because she has the coolest nickname this side of Clyde the Glide.
Ladies and gentlemen, Patricia Deneroff. AKA P. Diddy.
Fun facts about P. Diddy:
She ran with the bulls in Pamplona (TRUE!)
She was in the stands at Lake Placid for the Miracle on Ice hockey game between the US and Russia (ALSO TRUE!)
She made the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs (COULD BE TRUE IN A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY. Han Solo: LIES!)
She taught Jimi Hendrix how to play the guitar…left-handed and upside down (possibly true)
She can out-swear Samuel L. Jackson (maybe a stretch)
And in two weeks time, she’s taking her first step to becoming a cyborg. Which will have her leaping tall buildings in no time. What could be cooler than that?
P. Diddy, keep that cool you’re so famous for. We’ll be thinking about you. Get better real soon. The rest of you slobs, tuck in your shirts, stop picking boogers and head over to our new watering hole: Jameson’s, 975 Second Ave between 51st and 52nd. Please keep Alicia away from the jukebox or it’ll be nothing but Mumford & Sons, Lana Del Ray and Imagine Dragons all night long.
'Twas the best of times, 'twas the ARVO of times
FROM THE VAULT: December 18, 2015
Another year in the books, FutureBrand. Before the sun sets on 2015, let’s take a moment to take stock of the year that was.
History will show this as a year of mergers & acquisitions. Where many among us sobered up, tucked in their shirts and said “I do” to a life of “Yes, dear.” Welcome to the grown-up table, newlyweds Camilla Crane, Jenn Szekely, Amanda Goldwasser, Grace Chou and Pat Attenasio. Right behind them on the engagement train, Ana Gannod and her HUGE rock.
2015 was also a year of spinoffs. Ladies and gentlemen, may we present to you the FutureBrand class of 2037: Jack Malozzi, Oliver Cockerille and Izzy (Szekely) Maxwell.
We got dangerously low on blondes this year, with Lindsey Maino, Phoebe Simmer and Millennial Megan hitting the bricks. Lindsey to LA. Phoebe to a small consumer shop. And Megan to teach the world everything she knows in a 20 second online class. Lloyd and Andy moved to San Fran. Jeffrey Stasz to the woods of Vermont. And Mona, sweet, sweet, delicate flower Mona Bhatnagar back to London. Stella Grealy flat out abandoned us. And we said so long to some truly irreplaceable OGers this year: Julie Motherfucking Peters, and of course, the all-mighty, all-powerful, we miss her more and more every day, Samantha Eliot.
We restocked our bo-hunk supply from the ground up: starting with Michael Green’s mandal-ed toes to Kris Pelletier’s Barney Rubble ankles and culminating with Tony Musso’s Clark Kent hair. Boy Joo is back, acoustic guitar and whisper quiet ninja walk in hand. Martin Kuo…keep it down over there. You’re way too LOUD!
We fared much better with the new ladies: Tracy Curtis, Gabriele Krzywicka, Nancy Frank, Jasmine Belizario and Lisa Lee. We briefly had two Carolines: Landry and Welch, until the first went on permanent vacation. New rainmaker Clare Louise Smith and her million dollar Millipore account joined us from London. And Amanda Hasten transformed before our eyes into Amanda Goldwasser.
Speaking of London and transformations, we sent Ah-lee-she-uhh Fowler across the pond looking like this:
Six months later they returned her looking like this:
Thankfully through all this change we had our anchor, Tom Li, who on June 1st, celebrated 25 years of getting shit done.
When most of your staff arrives after 11am and leaves before 6, you need to have a rock solid freelance pool to fill in the gaps. Normally these folks are nameless and faceless. But ours kept coming back and coming back until we actually were kinda forced to get to know them as human beings. Now we want to keep them! Too bad they’re not that desperate. Give it up for the dream team: Pablo Pineda, Puja Shah, Grace Chou, Yelena Avanesova and Emily Hartnett.
And finally, 2015 was the year we finally added a little personality to our office walls. But much to Sven’s dismay, we may have overdone it just a bit, turning this:
Into this:
Safe travels and happy holidays, everyone. Before you head off to your loved ones, join us for one last round at Hudson Malone. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…now.
ARVO to bed, ARVO to rise, makes Mona healthy, wealthy and (unfortunately) saying goodbye
FROM THE VAULT: November 20, 2015
Lots of you new folks probably don’t know this, but back in the day, ARVO didn’t start off as a happy hour. Originally it was an sunrise breakfast club hosted by Mona. A morning person by nature, Mona would show up with a Mary Poppins basket full of scones, baked beans, runny eggs and bread pudding. Quae was there with her. Ditto Henri, Scott, John…let’s face it, the whole damn office minus Felix, Philine and Tina would arrive with the roosters. Because everyone knows that Germans don’t like pudding. And they’re notoriously tardy, late to work every morning.
Mona’s thinking was strategic: If I show up first maybe I’ll get to work on a consumer project. Something grown. Bottled. Baked. Or sewn. Something people can actually buy in a store, see on a shelf. Poor, poor wide-eyed Mona. Little did she know all the cool stuff went to folks who strolled in at the stroke of eleven, an army of Amazon, Zappos and Gilt delivery men in their wake. Early birds got stuck with the mergers. Manufacturers. And the heavy-duty industrialists.
Axalta. Baxalta. Avintiv. Exelon. Johnson Controls. If it belched fumes into the air, coated some obscure part deep inside carburetor, or was only seen on TV next to a skull & crossbones symbol and a directive to RUN!, Mona was on the project.
Fellow FutureBranders, tonight we hoist another OG’s jersey to the rafters. When she wasn’t jet-setting off to some exotic vacation or teaching Mark how to use a fork, Mona was here in the trenches for the past five years, a FutureBrand gamer through and through. She was everything you wanted in a teammate. Quiet, demure, un-opinionated.
It’s not going to be same without you, Mona. But before we go getting all teary-eyed, Mona’s crashing our holiday party in a few weeks. So save your hankies for when we’re all drunk at 3 am.
Speaking of potent potables, ARVO at Hudson Malone. Like now.
Two blondes for the price of ARVO
FROM THE VAULT: September 3, 2015
The time has finally arrived on our key-al-endars, mates. Today we say so long and farewell to two members of our international blonde squad: Phoebe from Australia and Megan from the Republic of Buffalo.
But the similarities stop at their follicle color. Because as we all know, these two could not be more different.
Phoebe never shuts up. Like ever. Hands down she’s the chattiest, loudest and most opinionated person in the office. Whereas Megan, well, most days we’re not even sure if she’s in the office. She’s so shy, quiet and demure! I mean, how many times have you had to say: Megan, SPEAK UP! Please TALK LOUDER! Tell us what’s on YOUR MIND.
We’re so tired of listening to blowhard Phoebe go on and on all of the time. Sure she’s a globetrottin’ Aussie know-it-all who’s surfed the seven seas, wrestled sharks in Bora Bora and holds a master’s degree from Columbia. Big deal! Megan, you too have life experience. You’ve been to the Rochester airport. Twice. You own all six seasons of Sex and the City on DVD. You were there, on the front lines, when Taylor Swift put John Mayer on blast. And you’ll be there when she welcomes that scoundrel back into her fragile Millennial heart.
So promise us, Megan, that at your next job, you won’t be such a wallflower. And you won’t hold back—your knowledge, your wisdom, your hardscrable lessons learned from a bunch of boring geezers with funny accents in a nondescript midtown east office building. And Phoebe, please, simmer down. Zip a lip once in awhile. Put a sock in it. Shhhh.
Fellow FutureBranders, please join us in the Skittles couch area at 4:30pm as we raise two more retired numbers to the rafters. And if you know any out-of-work Australians, send ‘em our way. From a high-water mark of three koalas a few years back, we’re down to just Camilla. Also, now that Megan and her fake ID are leaving, that leaves resident angsty teenager Alicia as the youngest in the office. BUT DON’T YOU DARE LOOK AT HER OR TALK TO HER! She’s going through a moody Wednesday from the Addams Family phase.
ARVO not to wear
FROM THE VAULT: August 7, 2015
It’s time for another Lloyd intervention. And not the kind that requires HR reps, tissue boxes and medical attention for traumatized junior designers. This one’s a fashion emergency. And a cautionary tale of a chronic t-shirt offender whose look is on life support. We didn’t give it much thought back in April, thinking maybe Lloyd was still suffering from PBSD (Pitney Bowes Stress Disorder). And it barely raised an eyebrow in May or June. For all we knew Lloyd was in love with a pizza delivery guy or Andy had eaten every last one of Lloyd’s other shirts. But since July…and especially now that we’re knee deep in August, Lloyd is all-in on the white t-shirts. And not just once in awhile. It’s become an every day uniform.
Glasses? Check. Pants? Check. Electric blue sneakers? Check. Apple Watch? Check. Hanes v-neck white t-shirt, size large? Check, check, check.
Maybe, like Einstein, Lloyd functions at a higher level by wearing the same thing every day. Or maybe he likes showing off that plumber’s bod of his. Just this morning we found him looking under the sink for his laptop:
Speaking of uniforms, check out Lindsey and Alicia today. They either look like pharmaceutical sales reps or presenters from a German game show.
We have an extra special ARVO surprise tonight: sunshine! For those fellow FutureBranders who’ve been cooped up inside all day or not “sick,” kindly bask in the warmth of the sun’s rays with us on the ROOFTOP of Sutton Place. And it’s not far, just around the corner on Second Avenue between 54th and 53rd. Go into the bar called Midtown 1015 at (you guessed it) 1015 Second Avenue and keep taking the stairs until you see daylight or Veronique pocketing bar coasters and ashtrays because she’s gets a touch of the klepto after a wine or two.
This is definitely not Julie Peters’ going away ARVO
It all begins with an idea.
FROM THE VAULT: April 17, 2015
Looks like the armchair design critics of the Internet are at it again. Nary an unemployed blogger or art school undergrad hasn’t weighed in on Hillary Clinton’s just unveiled presidential campaign logo. Economic, foreign policy and social policy platform ideas be damned. WHY is the arrow in her logo RED and WHY OH WHY is it pointing RIGHT!?
But this got us thinking. If logo design is so important, and so powerful, to identifying the chief executive of the free world, shouldn’t branding executives have their own, too? We asked ours—Jim, Sven, Holmfridur, Kari, Enshalla, Mark and Doug—to design their identities…and provide supporting rationale.
MARK
Mark’s traveling today, but he was kind enough to text us his design rationale:
“Hi here’s my logo ok later.”
HOLMFRIDUR & SVEN
“Inspired by the inspiring white on white on white on white starkness of our office, we crafted a simple white box. With its white color and sharp, angular corners, it’s both warm and welcoming. It also symbolizes the vast wasteland emptiness of American culture and cuisine…and the exact serving size of a typical Icelandic breakfast.”
“I love it. It’s gorgeous. And super expressive.”
KARI & ENSHALLA
“OK, moving on to slide #187. Now that we’ve reviewed our logo's pillars, you have a better understanding of why we drew a Venn diagram. We all know that clients don’t care about design. They pay us for strategy. Without it, design’s just just a bunch of squiggles and doodles. Enshalla, now that I’ve talked for five hours straight, do you have anything you’d like to add?”
“I graduated from Harvard business school. I don’t draw stupid shit for a living. That’s not my value add.”
JIM
“Umm, I was trying to draw a picture of my favorite things. Bicycle tires! Bicycle tires! But then my pen ran out of ink before I could draw the spokes. Yeah, that’s what happened. Malozzi, can you spruce this up?”
“Spruce it up? I’ll take that down.”
DOUG
“Yeah hi, sorry, this is Beth. Doug’s not allowed to design his own logo.”
“Design my own logo? No way! That sounds awesome. I will make something super rad and totally badass.”
“No, you’re not making something super rad and totally badass. We have a lot of Cadillac work to do. And stop drumming on your desk!”
“It can totally look like a mash-up of the Kiss logo and drum sticks whacking away on the snare and a bloodied hockey player.”
“Do I need to close your office door like I do every day and yell at you for eight hours? Besides, you’d want 900 hours of Ju and Henri’s time. And your logo would end up being a big “D” in Helvetica anyway.”
“Fuck yeah, a big Helvetica D. That sounds badass.”
OK, well that’s a wrap on ARVO for this week. Nothing else to share or talk about. Especially not the fact that today is Julie Peters’ last day. Or that next Monday we won’t be greeted by her 100 watt smile and that super smelly boot she’s been wearing, but by an empty desk scattered with a few random tumbleweeds of American, Gogo, Country, Pitney Bowes and IFF PowerPoint decks. We’re not going to miss her. Her professionalism. Her friendship. Her GSDing. Her holiday party dancing. Her let’s just get one glass of wine after working. Her overall, unreplaceable awesomeness. And we’re certainly not going to raise her retired jersey to the FutureBrand rafters tonight at Hudson Malone (218 E. 53rd Street) at 5:30pm sharp.
We will definitely do none of these things. Because we’re definitely in denial. And because we definitely don’t want to say goodbye. But hey, the drinks are free. So we’ll probably show up. Especially Kris Pelletier. That guy's to free drinks what Tom Li is to swag t-shirts.
#ARVO
FROM THE VAULT: April 2, 2015
With our resident Millennial hipster Alicia jumping the pond to our London office, the rest of us need to pick up the social media slack. Thankfully, many of you have already stepped forward and are doing your part to make sure the selfies and cat videos keep coming:
Malozzi will live Tweet every single costume change in the upcoming Beyonce/Rihanna world tour.
#IcanlookbutIcanttouch, #butireallyreallywantto
The executive team will keep us in-the-loop and up-to-date on their group offsite travel plans…and their outcomes.
#maybenextyear, #latchkeykids, #didsomebodyremembertofeedquae
Kris Pelletier likes his whiskey neat and pants creased crisp to Ginsu knife sharpness. Not only are his khakis a hit with the ladies, they’re taking Instagram by storm. Follow them at:
#nothesepantsdidntcomewithafannypack, #mymompickedthemoutforme, #everyoneatwolffolinslovedthem
Cancel your weekend plans and call the Guinness Book of World Records. The S&P Capital brand architecture deck, now six months and 837 pages in the making, is just about done and ready for download.
#pageturner, #wekilledaforest, #run!philinehasagun
Fellow FutureBranders, join us tonight, 6:30 pm @ BXL East (210 E. 51st Street between 2nd & 3rd Ave) to say farewell (for now) to Alicia Fowler. She’s off to jolly old England for the next three months on a work exchange with FutureBrand London. Bad news: in return we’ll get much more work to spread around since she’s such a friggin’ rock star. Good news: we’ll have an empty desk! With business booming and so many new faces and freelancers tucked into every corner, we’ll take every inch we can.
#canwemovebackdowntownalready
Happy ARVOversary
FROM THE VAULT: March 13, 2015
There was a time when, at FutureBrand, everyone seemed to be a new employee AND a new employee from Siegel+Gale. But as we’ve grown and grown-up, the miles are starting to collect on our proverbial tires…
Jim and Sven celebrate their 5-year FutureBrand anniversary this Sunday, March 15th. With all the early morning Patrick Smith phone calls and late night Chris Nurko firestorms they’ve endured during this time, it’s amazing how thin and non-gray-haired they’ve remained!
Not only is Scott Williams still alive, he celebrated his 10-year FutureBrand anniversary on February 9th. He’s survived by becoming the potent potable equivalent of the 6 Million Dollar Man. A quick look under his hood and you’ll find 75% vodka coupled with 25% go-to guidelines specialist. But we’re hoping those numbers even out after next week’s CH2M launch.
In a few months, Lloyd will hit his 5-year FutureBrand anniversary. But he’d like you to know that with how busy he was last year with Pitney Bowes, it really should count as his 6th anniversary.
Sung will hit 7 years. Mark will hit 8. Brian Shu’s about to hit 9. Even our young bucks are getting a little long in the tooth. This year finds Amanda, Camilla and Veronique celebrating their fifth anniversaries!
But no one even comes close to the Cal Ripken of FutureBrand. The man who joined FutureBrand a good eight years before FutureBrand became FutureBrand. The man who, on June 1st of this year, will celebrate his whopping 25th anniversary.
Screw the goat and screw the sheep…we hereby proclaim 2015 to be the year of Tom Li!
Ladies and gentleman of FutureBrand, let’s start the celebration in the best way we know how. Pencils down at 6pm and mosey across the street to Crimson & Rye in the lobby of the Lipstick Building. There we kickoff the silver anniversary year of Tom Li’s awesomeness. We will toast to Malozzi’s unborn son, who as of tomorrow, is officially on the clock for being born. We will welcome the world’s oldest living intern Andi back into our dysfunctional clutches. And we will wave adieu to the Mad Max Thunderdome style scaffolding that FINALLY came down from around our building.
One Sam short of a full ARVO
FROM THE VAULT: February 27, 2015
This is now the third leaving the company ARVO we’ve written for Sam.
The first time she left because we were woefully dis-Lorna-ized and couldn’t get our shit together.
The second time she left because she got knocked up.
This third time she’s leaving because…well…there’s nothing left for her to accomplish. We’ve reached the top of the mountain, FutureBrand. People are doing their time sheets. Global doesn’t meddle in our affairs or force no-win projects on us. The Pitney team is doing well in group therapy. We’ve made it three weeks without any attempts on Lloyd’s life. And resourcing requests are addressed quickly and decisively.
Like a pint-sized Mary Poppins, Sam floated into our office under a tiny cocktail umbrella five years ago. What she found must’ve shocked her. We were a great training ground for her eventual motherhood. She corralled us (especially James) and kept us from walking into traffic. She wiped poop from our bums after bungled client meetings and puke from our chins after a late night out following said bungled client meeting. She spoke to us slowly and clearly, over-annunciating ev–er–y word. And she set the template for getting Mark’s attention that every other account person has used since:
Mark.
Mark!
MARK!
MARK!!
MAAAAAAA-RRRRRRRRRRRR-KKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Fellow FutureBranders, we have clearance from none other than Holmfridur to knock off early and head to Pig ’n Whistle across the street at 5pm. Yes..5pm! There we will raise Sam’s jersey to the rafters…again. And toast to the hopes that maybe just maybe someday we’ll have the chance to write a fourth leaving the company ARVO for Sam.
Hunk ‘o hunk ‘o ARVO love
FROM THE VAULT: February 14, 2014
Like any long-term committed relationship, shacking up with a branding agency has its romantic ups and reality downs. In the beginning it’s all champagne and roses and hand-in-hand strolls through Union Square. Your suitor is a handsome jet-setting silver fox named American Airlines who whispers sweet precision clouds in your ear. He’s strapped with cash—and loves to spend it on you.
You’re over the moon smitten. You haven’t felt this hot and bothered since that night at homecoming when you made out with Dow under the football field bleachers.
But then years pass. And what was once a fiery, raging inferno of passion has been replaced with Downton Abbey reruns and Ben & Jerry’s. Mr. Wonderful broke your heart and declared bankruptcy.
You had to leave your chic downtown love nest and move in with your relatives in midtown, where you’re forced to share a bedroom with your nerdy cousins Weber and Shandwick. Instead of long weekends at the Four Seasons in Dallas, you’re now going Dutch with new beau TeleTech at the Motel 6 in Secaucus.
Sure, Cadillac’s been giving you the once over. But your mother told you not to trust those Italians. Country Financial seems like a nice enough guy. But you’d rather be home on the couch in sweats kvetching with your new BFF Time Warner about how bad her ex’s cable company sucks.
Gentlemen of FutureBrand, the ladies amongst us are not impressed. Sure Beth is wearing a festive red Valentine’s sweater, but not one of our colleagues received flowers or chocolates. Our slovenly presence can’t be helping. Guys, it’s on us to us to spice this place up. To our four core values—positive, adaptable, entrepreneurial and creative—we nominate a new pillar: macho.
And what better way to flex our collective machismo than through some hardcore beefcake, guaranteed to get the ladies riled up.
Unfortunately…Felix and the Finance Guys were unavailable on photo shoot day. But we got the next best thing...the Magic Mike men of Implementation were kind of enough to strip down and oil up in the name of company morale.
Ladies, get your dollar bills ready...the following hunks will be struttin’ their hunky stuff at ARVO tonight….Niall’s Irish Pub, 218 52nd Street (between 3rd & 2nd Aves), starting…now.
Tom “Magic Fingers” Li
David “Gun Show” Shankman
Jamaal “Jamakingmesweat” Umar
Darren “Member’s Only” Horwitz
Brendan “O-face” O’Neill
Paul “Juicy” Krauss
ARVO me Roy, is that the Chattanooga Shu Shu?
FROM THE VAULT: August 29, 2013
Besides you know the ability to do math and stuff, Mikey D. has strict requirements for the Finance guys. They must have 6-pack abs. They must have thick, , spiky, well-coiffed hair (or a stylish cap like Rahiem to disguise a lack of thick, spiky, well-coifed hair). They must wear day-glo sneakers. And they must, at all costs, avoid the spotlight and paparazzi's red-hot glare.
While most of us lounge on a beach during vacation, Brian Shu became a one-man Sportscenter and TMZ highlight reel on his week off. As most of you know, Brian was the ball boy buzz of the Internet when hugged by Italian tennis player Francesca Schiavone at the US Open.
But that was just the beginning of his whirlwind week…
His late 90s boy band, Utilization Nation, reunited at the MTV VMA Awards…
He tried out for both the New York Jets…
And New York Mets…
The Kardashians were up in arms when photos showed baby North looks more like a Shu and less like a Kanye…
And of course, who could forget Brian's infamous twerking dance with Miley Cyrus…
Here we are at the end of summer, fellow FutureBranders. And before everyone heads out for the long weekend tomorrow, and returns begrudgingly next Tuesday for the big year-end push, let's gather tonight for a few ARVO libations and toast to Brian's newfound celebrity. We're even going to a new, and far classier joint than our normal beer-soaked dives—Bread & Tulips in the basement of the Hotel Giraffe, 26th and Park Avenue. While Brian unfortunately is dining with Beyonce and Jay-Z, Holmfridur has confirmed in ink her attendance. And since she's dressed like the Queen of Icelandia today, we should score VIP seating.
Like a bridge over troubled ARVO
FROM THE VAULT: August 2, 2013
Something rarer than rare happened at FutureBrand this past Wednesday. No it wasn't Russell's annual visit or a status meeting cancelled by Holmfridur. Rather for three glorious afternoon hours the office was designer free. In desperate need of inspiration and goof-off-ification, the creatives boarded their magical fantastical technicolor dream bus and butterflied on up to the Guggenheim to stare at a light show and take pictures of their shoes.
Soon, a quiet, drama-free din fell over the office. There was no laughing. Or crying. Or foot stomping. Or Instagramming. The line outside Stella's office disappeared. And the men's room no longer smelled of weed. One by one, strategists peered up from the PowerPoints to realize they now had the electoral vote majority. A drunk with power Daniel, his referee shirt and an army of strategists were now in charge. Logic and straight lines would now rule the day. And order would be restored. Logos? Replace them with pillars! Color palette? Black and white! Typography? Courier works just fine! Guidelines? Do what I say and don't ask any questions!
And here so many of you thought ARVO was shut down by Stella and her no-fun police. Rest assured fellow FutureBranders, there are plenty more fart jokes and Holmfridur soliloquies coming your way each and every Friday. To put a cork on this week, let's boogie on over to Shades of Green, 125 E. 15th Street between Irving and 3rd, say around 6 or so. Holmfridur has GUARANTEED* her attendance and participation in a shot-drinking contest, so this really is a must-attend event not to be missed.
*Holmfridur did not actually guarantee her attendance or promise to drink anything with us slobs. She's probably doing something cultural and has had enough of our shenanigans for one week.
The United States of ARVO
FROM THE VAULT: July 3, 2013
Tomorrow we celebrate this great nation's independence. 237 years of so many freedoms and choices that companies like ours were formed to differentiate one from the other.
But while the English were a formidable foe back in the Revolutionary years, at least before World Cup season, and the Germans gave it their best shot in two world wars, things might have turned out differently had our luck of the European draw come up differently. Because while most teams can win on any given Sunday, sometimes you run into a well–oiled, take no shit, domination machine.
Say for instance, Iceland.
Things might've turned out differently for General Jim Lowell and his meeting-dodging troops had Holmfridur stormed Plymouth Rock. No amount of sweet-talking or wampum trading would've halted the swift and severe ramifications at the hands of the Hardardottir army.
Imagine where we'd be today…
New Jersey would be called New Reykjavik…and it would smell like salted cod.
Hot dog eating contests would be replaced with gazpacho tastings in healthy portions.
McDonald's would be replaced with McGetYourAssBacktoWork reminders.
State governors would be replaced with account directors.
Fat people would be imprisoned and forced to run laps around Minnesota.
Labor Day would be a day where you work. Along with Christmas. New Years. And Superbowl Sunday.
Alright, let's go drink. Triona's. 3rd Ave between 17th and 18th. Holmfridur is definitely coming. She's dying to do a few Jaeger bombs before dinner tonight.
Faster than a speeding ARVO
FROM THE VAULT: June 14, 2013
With the summer movie blockbuster season in full swing, Hollywood bean counters are sweating today's release of Superman: Man of Steel. At a reported production cost of nearly $250 million, will it be a hit with increasingly finicky Millennial moviegoers? Like a successful branding program, sometimes rebooting a superhero franchise requires a round of refinement or two.
Take, for instance, the recent direct-to-video death of this Iron Man precursor. With Robert Downey Jr. playing hardball contract negotiations, the studio made an ill-fated decision to replace him.
Darren Horwitz is….
IMPLEMENTATION MAN
Beth Mallow is a sweetheart. She spreads joy and sunshine throughout the world and has no sworn enemies. UNLESS Implementation Man makes promises to her that he can't keep. That makes Beth mad. Really mad. REALLY. REALLY. MAD!!!! Universal Studios tried to capitalize on their chemistry, with mixed results.
Beth Mallow is…
THE INCREDIBLE HULK
What does a brooding urban vigilante of justice do when there's no more crime to fight? Hit the buffet of course.
David Shankman in…
THE DARK KNIGHT DINNER PARTY
So as not to succumb to the same ho-hum ticket sales as these flops, we suggest rebooting Superman with a decidedly more efficient, fear-inducing flair.
Look, over in the conference room!
It's a fugl…
It's a flugvél…
It's Frábærkona!
Holmfridur Hardardottir is…
SUPER H
In the endless reaches of the universe, there once existed a planet known as Icelandia. A planet that burned like a cold star in the distant heaves. There, civilization was far advanced and was governed by a tribe of Hardardottir—or "supermen"—whose mental, physical and spreadsheet powers were developed to the absolute peak of human perfection.
But then came a day when giant storms of inefficiency threatened to destroy Icelandia forever. The planet's leader, sensing the approach of doom, placed his infant daughter in a small rocket ship and sent it hurtling in the direction of Earth just as Icelandia exploded. The vessel landed safely on Park Avenue with Icelandia's sole survivor: Holmfridur.
As the years went by and the child grew to maturity, she found herself possessed of amazing and fear-inducing powers. Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall strategists in a single bound. The infant of Icelandia is now the Account Director of Steel.
Sound like a hit? If focus groups in Reykjavik are to be trusted, the answer is…YES.
Join us tonight, fellow FutureBranders at Shades of Green (15th Street between Irving and 3rd), 6 pm sharp. Following Ann Smith's birthday drinks last night, the turnout might be a bit light. But as always, Holmfridur will be there downing shots at the bar and throwing back wings like the devil-may-care party animal that she is.