Are you creative?

I’ve been on the hunt for jobs lately and have found myself amused, frustrated and straight-up perplexed by a few ads I’ve come across. In particular, the controversially named ‘creative’ positions (which generally amount to advertising roles, but worded in incredibly flamboyant ways). In my view, these are an insult to genuinely creative people who produce work of artistic merit or expression. They also talk a lot of bollocks.

In response, I decided to write my own job ad. I hope it will entertain others who are in a similar position and provide some light relief from the weird (and sometimes pretentious) world of job searching.

Happy new year!



Are you a creative genius with a surgical eye for detail, sickly amounts of enthusiasm, doesn’t know tired, a smile carved onto your face, leaper not a jumper, amazing at numbers and everybody’s friend, with at least 5 years experience working in Photoshop, InDesign, Illustrator, Powerpoint, Excel, felt tip pens, international politics and subterfuge?

Then you might have what it takes!

Here at Amazing Incredible, we don’t do things by half, we do them by a whole and a half!

You might also have noticed (because of your eye for detail – if you didn’t then you’re already fired) that we love to use exclamation marks! That’s because everything we do is amazing (and incredible)!

We work with the world’s top brands (even though every other company says that) to make their wildest dreams come true (we produce ads). But more than that, we strive to make sure everything we do for our clients is so eye-wateringly spectacular that they actually leave us with tears in their eyes. After all, we want people to be in love us, not just pay us.

The Good Stuff

– Free grilled quinoa on toast every morning, a pint of coffee and sourdough macaroons

– Tricycle racing around our own purpose built track on the roof (with incredible views of everything cool)

– An office orangutan to hang out with on your lunch break

– bouncy balls

– knitting

What we ask in return

  • You’ll be bold first of all, preferably have a beard, possess bombastic design skills, brave, bouncing with energy (did we mention beard?) and love other great-sounding words beginning with B!
  • You must be a team player, but also work fine on your own, be consistent yet adaptable, bleed creativity and also be hyper-numeric; in other words, an extremely conflicted individual!
  • You will literally shit ideas.


Who cares when we’re such an extraordinarily fabulous company to work for?


10% off beard combs from John Lewis

Free Friday drinks at Wanko’s Gin and Sourdough Pizza Bar

Stupid games to play (because Google do stuff like that, don’t they?)

More coffee!

If, after reading this, you’re not feeling physically sick or experiencing the shakes, send us an email at telling us how you would keep the fires of creativity burning from atop the gleaming spire of our brand-building beacon.


High net worth

Karl picked up his suit jacket that was folded next to his belongings. It had stood up well considering the circumstances. The same couldn’t be said for his shirt, however, which clung unhealthily to his body, but he had to at least look the part.

He gathered the rest of his things and stepped gingerly over the mass of bodies that were sprawled across the floor of the shopping arcade. Supposedly, there was meant to be some order to this mess, but the wardens had scarcely seemed to bother when they ushered everybody in last night. Between the sleeping bags and scrunched up blankets, white lines still marked out a thoroughfare to the few shops that had held out down here. Now, only the window display of the old magic shop remained, its vintage posters and volumes on card magic, steadily gathering dust.

At the foot of the steps, a group of men were quietly discussing yesterday’s papers. ‘Crisis in the capital’ and ‘state of emergency’ shouted from the front pages. They turned at Karl’s presence.

“Where are you going?” asked one of them, a yuppie type with a week’s worth of stubble. “It’s not time yet.”

“Oh, yes it is” muttered Karl. Judging by old habits, it was exactly the right time.

At street level he was met by a flurry of commuters scuttling by and the hammering of traffic on the Strand. The rush was noticeably less in recent weeks as redundancies continued, but the sight of it still lifted Karl’s spirits. This was where he belonged, fighting the good fight to keep the wheels of the capital turning.

As he stepped forward, the device on his ankle began to vibrate. It was gentler than he had anticipated, but the high-pitched ringing was as startling as when he heard it on some poor sod trying his luck out of hours. ‘Going rogue’ as the papers liked to call it. They never lasted long, of course. He would have to move quickly.

Karl lurched across the road, ignoring a chorus of horns and set off at a pace down Villiers Street. Heads of pedestrians turned as the noise reached their ears and they parted for him as though he were the carrier of some highly contagious disease. One tourist lifted their camera absent-mindedly to their chest and pressed the shutter and Karl resisted the urge to swear at them.

Nevertheless, he didn’t have to fight through the hordes that used to populate this stretch even a month ago. Now, there were comparatively few traipsing in and out of the chain restaurants that still survived, news of London’s epidemic yet to reach their shores.

A crowd of commuters were forming at Embankment station as he approached the bottom of the hill and Karl could see staff speaking into their radios while their eyes followed his trajectory towards the underpass. Then, from the shadows, the Starbucks beamed at him.

He barged through the door to find it half full with suits, a few hammering out some last minute agendas, while others just lounged contentedly. Richard and Ken were sat towards the rear of the café, their greying sideburns at odds with the rest of the well-groomed heads.

The sound of the device cut through the subdued atmosphere like an alarm clock and everyone twisted round in their seats to face him.

“Excuse me!” called the girl from the counter. “You can’t come in here.”

Karl felt the heat of indignation rise in his cheeks. “The hell I can’t!”

As he approached the table, Richard’s face crumpled in fright before a flicker of recognition loosened it.

“Christ! Karl.”

“Hello Richard. Ken. Thought I’d find you chaps in here.”

“What are you doing?” asked Richard.

Karl cleared his throat. “I’ve come to ask for some help. I know things are tough at the moment, but I can’t hack it out here. I want back in.”

Richard shifted in his seat. “Karl, I’m sorry. You know how it is. There are protocols. It’s out of our hands.”

“Come on, Richard. There’s always an opening somewhere, even if its just administration. What do you say? Help out a colleague, a friend?”

There was a commotion outside the cafe. Karl knew his time was nearly up.


“You know the score, Karl” replied Ken, looking at his hands. “We’re dropping like flies. With your background, I’m sure you’ll find something. I hear Asia is looking promising.”

The door to the bar swung open and two wardens in grey outfits stormed in. They grabbed Karl by the arms and dragged him out of the cafe.

Back on the street, curfew was off and a motley procession was taking place as the homeless were herded down the street to Embankment Gardens. The Guardian had likened it to yard exercise for prisoners and Karl conceded they had a point.

One of the wardens crouched down and pointed a scanner at Karl’s ankle. The ringing stopped. He stood back up and set about tapping away on the screen. “That’s a mark on your record for leaving a sanctuary during curfew. If it happens again, it could land you in front of a judge, understand?”

Karl tilted his face towards the sky. “I can see you’ve got a good background,” continued the warden. “9 years in the financial services. My advice is, keep your head down and keep a clean record. It could work in your favour when it comes to redeployment.”

They ushered him into line and Karl shuffled along until he was inside the park. He found himself a spot on the grass and hung his head between his knees.

“Scandalous, isn’t it.”

Karl looked and saw a woman sitting close by, wrapped in a pale grey trenchcoat. “Savings and investments, 2 years. Ed here,” she nodded to a glum-faced lad next to her, “he’d only been branch manager at Barclays for six months before they let him go. If this government thinks the country can survive on teachers and nurses, they’ve got another thing coming.”

The device glowed timidly from under the hem of his trousers as Karl shored his knees up. 2 weeks until his processing date. Long enough to consider the prospect.

Mind out

It came to my attention last week that mental health is a topic I have a lot of time for. We were having a training session at work on mental health awareness and we watched a video of people talking about their experiences, what they’ve suffered from and how its been perceived by friends and colleagues.

Their experiences struck a chord with me on a number of levels, mainly, because I’ve had a few run-ins with mental health difficulties myself. The worst were in my teenage years, but its only been recently that I’ve started to figure out what was going on at that time and how some of it has clung on as I’ve got older.

I also know of several people who have gone through severe difficulties, in particular, one of my best friends who had a psychotic episode and spent many years of his life trying to claw back a sense of self that had been all but destroyed by the experience.

Mental ill health has been in the media a lot in recent years and charities such as Mind and Rethink Mental Illness are making bold moves to bring mental health matters out into the open. The common argument is that as an illness, mental health problems should be spoken about in the way that we speak about other illnesses, or even a broken bone. While its definitely good to encourage people to talk about it, the problem is that mental health is never a straightforward subject to discuss. The mind is a mysterious thing and scientists are still baffled by its mechanics. Moreover, medicine still knows relatively little about common mental health problems, such as depression, despite the fact it affects 1 in 10 of us.

In my mind, issues such as depression or anxiety can arise for so many reasons. In my case, I’m still questioning whether it might be a hereditary issue, something I developed in childhood or even if I’m one of those people who seem to be more naturally disposed to psychological struggle, if you will.

I once saw a psychotherapist and he was of the opinion that people who are artistic or creative carry both a burden and gift as the mind is highly capable and therefore prone to highs and lows. Personally, I like to think of it as having a ‘loose’ mind, which is the way I feel, when my thoughts and feelings carry such weight that I’m almost at their mercy as to how they will influence my mental outlook.

Whether this is just a personality trait or something deeper is almost impossible to tell. Maybe its a bit of both. Furthermore, personal circumstances and how you conduct your life can have a great affect on mental health. Working nights in a shitty job is bound to affect your state of mind fairly drastically. Likewise, spending a large amount of your time on insular or inward looking tasks, (such as writing) can lead down a bit of a melancholy path if not evened up with some empathetic company.

And yet, there’s hundreds of people out there who carry on with their lives and never talk about their mental health problems, either because they can deal with them adequately on their own, or even that they don’t  consider them a problem, but part of their larger psychological framework. And maybe there’s nothing wrong with that. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that while its good to get the topic out there, don’t suppose that its in any way similar to physical illness and that talking about or dealing with mental health is a different story for everyone. Perhaps the biggest challenge is getting people to look at their own psyches once in while, then we wouldn’t be so uncomfortable with discussing other people’s in the first place.