Here’s what we mean: an average, run of the mill art director that we know, maybe even someone with whom we worked alongside of in the trenches. (We don’t really work in trenches, but allow us, if you will, a small attempt to make our career choice seem less sissified than it is.) Anyhow, through some fluke or another this art director gets transmogrified into The Client.
“Oh goody!” says we. “A confrère!”
Then, after arriving at their freshly painted office to make a presentation, only to have them tear into our concepts the way a grizzly bear rips into the soft underbelly of a salmon, we leave muttering, “What Golden Turd did that hack ever produce to which our work pales in comparison?”