Talk Show — tbm

Entering the vestibule of the office of Paradowski Creative used to be a grey, cold experience. Now even Greg Brady would feel comfortable coming in for a meeting.

Before and after: A weird area entrance that you have to walk through before you get to the actual office was transformed into a funky lounge talk show with a slightly ominous name!

When you enter the office building of Paradowski Creative, you go up a stairwell and into a vestibule that greets you with a slamming metal door and restrooms. To the left and right are entrances to the actual office, but you must first deal with this liminal space: An uninviting melange of putty-colored faux marble floor tiles, beige wallpaper, and accents of grey slate that frame an elevator. Sort of an early 2010’s mausoleum-interior vibe.

At least it used to be. To spruce things up, the CEO decided he’d like to have a talk show set in this space. A place to have face-to-face conversations with each other, and maybe even record them. It was an attempt to recapture what had been lost in 2020-2022: actually knowing, speaking to, and being physically near your coworkers.

I came up with several options for naming and general visual direction for this theoretical talk show. All made a self-referencial nod to its location (a corporate office) but had an irreverent tone. See below for some AI slop (aka preliminary concepts)!

Option 1:

Mandatory Meeting TODAY

A post-officepocolyptic take on the bane of the white collar-worker’s existence: meetings. This talk show set could have included mysteriously-stained desk chairs, a standing desk (constantly on fire), a wall of passive aggressive post-its, and half-melted free tumblers sent from 4imprint.

Option 2:

GREAT COMPANY

Wow, really great company. Really love everyone here. Love this office. It’s really… great. Harkening back to the Nineteen-eighties when shoulder pads were big and Quaalude habits were bigger, this talk show set would have been filled with vintage computers, Rolodexes, floppy discs, and Muzak.

Option 3:

Weekdays Only

An extremely specific reference to a furniture company whose HQ used to be located where the current office sits. I’ve heard tell that every once in awhile, someone will still come to the office, searching for the lost furniture giant. This set would have been filled with returned furniture (tags still on), been difficult to walk through on account of the couch cushions stacked to the ceiling, and best of all, would always have a “Going Out of Business!” sale happening. That would have been funny.

We Need to Talk

The chosen name and visual direction for the talk show ended up being the “We Need to Talk Show”: an earth-toned, cigarette-infused homage to the early 1970s. Part Johnny Carson, part family living room, part The Price is Right. There’s a lava lamp, obviously.

The name itself is a bit provocative for a company full of employees who would absolutely dread hearing their boss say the phrase, “We need to talk…” Installing this set and announcing it to the company inspired fear in the hearts of coworkers who were afraid of being fired, sure, but even more afraid of making eye contact with IRL people.

There was some feedback that the name was a bit insensitive; that it didn’t take into account the fact that people are afraid of being fired. I just want to set the record straight right now that that was definitely taken into account (by me), and is the reason it’s funny.

There was also a RUMOR that some people felt it inappropriate to install and pay for a frivolous talk show set that no one needed, considering the company didn’t seem to have money to give people raises or to maintain staff consistently. But guess what? Frivolity IS needed. And anyway I bought and donated everything but the wall graphic printing myself, so calm down.

Me, installing the adhesive vinyl onto the wall.

First look at the finished set! Featuring ashtrays, a tube tv that kind of works, a shag rug, lava lamp, groovy pillows, and a vintage Avon “Vantastic” aftershave bottle that belonged to my Grandpa.

Promoting the Show

To get employees excited, annoyed, dubious, jealous and slightly frightened of the impending conversations that would ensue on the We Need to Talk Show set, I called upon some old classic-tv pals to help spread the word. And again, don’t worry, the company didn’t pay for these Cameos. I did. Shut up.

Left: Emmanuel Lewis of Webster fame gives his ringing endorsement of We Need to Talk Show. Right: Barry Williams aka Greg Brady of The Brady Bunch gets us in a groovy mood to chat.

Promotional video shared internally to drum up excitement from employees who are generally disinterested in each other or in coming into the office. Did it work? No.

The Beginning was The End

As it turns out, you can’t make people be interested in each other. Mandatory fun rarely inspires real camraderie. A company culture and relationships can’t be forced, no matter how much Emmanuel Lewis wants them to be.

We Need to Talk Show has 1 episode, and 1 episode only. The episode is the CEO interviewing me (screenshot at top of page). I have the full video, but you’ll never see it. Partly because it’s not very interesting, and partly to let the entire thing remain what it is: a silly idea that no one asked for, a thing done just for the fun of it, and a sign that whatever it used to mean to work at an ad agency is long dead.

The fun is over. And that’s the way you people want it. Great job!

The ad Gus and I created and placed as an actual, full-page ad in VOLUME: Vol. 2 of The Sheldon magazine, hints at the end of the dream.
I think we knew from the start it would never really happen, because no one cared. But it was fun to think about, anyway.

Encore: A Fake Ad that is Actually Literally Real, about a Real Ad Agency Advertising Something Fake

Once it became clear the talk show just wasn’t going to happen, the funniest thing I could think of to do was advertise it.

I bought a jumpsuit for Gus that matched the set, had him hold a cigarette, and we came up with some silly copy, actually running a full-page print ad for The Sheldon’s annual magazine VOLUME.

What we do for a living is inherently absurd, might as well have fun with it.