Alcohol played an integral, but not excessive, part of agency life back in the ’80s and early ’90s. Probably not so much now, what with all the law suits and societal disdain towards getting tipsy in the afternoon.
I fondly remember the sound of glass tinkling outside my office at JWT as the company president came down the hall pushing a cart loaded with various bottles of hooch and mix. At each office he’d stop, take a drink request, hand it over, then carry on to the next. It wasn’t a frequent event, but it was a welcome one.
And of course there were the liquid lunches at “JWT South,” a particular bar on Yonge Street that I won’t name because it wouldn’t be prudent — but it’s true that one of our female employees quit the company to start dancing there.
And then there were the in-house parties. Halloween, of course. And Christmas. Also Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, Flag Day, and on occasion, Tuesday. And of course there were celebrations for landing an account. Or losing one.
The point is, we drank, and we worked, and the one never interfered with the other.
I was always very good at holding my liquor. I could drink a fair amount, but always knew when to stop before I embarrassed myself.
But sometimes mistakes happened.
The worst, for me, occurred at a party held by a friend of mine who ran a public relations firm in the city. I no longer recall the reason for the party — if, indeed, there was one (perhaps it was Tuesday) — but the entire affair was attended by marketing and advertising people from numerous agencies.
There was also plenty of alcohol, including something I’d never run across before: Polar Ice.
Now Polar Ice is a particularly pure brand of vodka which is specifically meant to be thrown in the freezer until it’s literally ice-cold — but not frozen, of course, because of the alcohol content, which I believe was in the neighbourhood of 300%.
The nice thing about frozen vodka is that it doesn’t have the bite of regular vodka. It also takes a while to metabolise, which means you can drink several glasses before realising the effect it’s having.
In short, I got drunk.
Not bad on its own — there were a lot of intoxicated people there, and even drunk I can normally handle myself with at least a modicum of dignity. Which I did.
Oh sure, I performed a couple of magic tricks, but only by request, and those watching were suitably impressed. The fact that I didn’t screw up surely meant I was in control, if somewhat wobbly.
Now it’s important to understand that up to this point I had been behaving in an entirely acceptable fashion. I’d been having a discussion with a woman beside me on the couch about Thompson’s 25-year mark with the Pepsi account, and I could tell that I was being coherent because my wife was still smiling at me.
And then he walked in.
“He” was the man who had re-imaged the entire concept of the detergent commercial, for both laundry and dish. His spots featured people talking happily while doing the washing-up, and while the product was never spoken of, it was prominently displayed as part of the cheerful scene. One spot featured a little girl helping her mother bring in the laundry and getting excited as her teddy bear was taken down from the line.
I wanted to tell this man how much I respected the direction he’d taken with the new spots. I wanted to explain to him that, while ads which didn’t mention the product were normally ineffective, his use of visuals had overcome this objection beautifully. I wanted to tell him that he was an advertising genius.
Unfortunately, somewhere between standing up, and reaching for his hand, a whole bunch of Polar Ice which, until then had been hiding somewhere in my metabolism biding its time, took that moment to strike. To stay on my suddenly untrustworthy feet I grabbed his jacket lapel while shaking his hand.
Remembering that there was something I’d wanted to say, I blurted out, “I looove the teddy bear!”
That was the extent of my verbal acuity. I stood for a moment longer, attempting to work out how much of what I’d meant to say had actually been said, while also trying to figure out why I seemed incapable of standing without support. Since the standing part was temporarily being taken care of by hanging onto this fortunately-placed jacket lapel, I opted to continue my discourse on advertising.
“I looove the teddy bear,” I said, vaguely aware that I’d already said something similar. Unable to think of how to progress from there, I had a sudden flash of insight on what I should say next. “I looove the teddy bear,” I said, although that, too, sounded somewhat familiar.
It was sad. And I never touched Polar Ice again, nor got that intoxicated.
Even worse — I never could remember his name.
But if by any chance he stumbles upon this blog and is reading this, I just want to tell him: “I loooove the teddy bear.”
nonamedufus
September 2, 2010
Oh, man, this made me laugh till I almost cried. The things we did when we were younger, eh? We smoked, we drank, we drove without seat belts…sometimes all at the same time!
Frank Lee MeiDere
September 2, 2010
It was a dangerous time, wasn’t it? When I was a kid, we’d pack nine people into the VW bug to go to the beach: driver, adult passenger with one kid on her lap (that’s three so far), two adults and two kids in the back (that’s seven), and then the two youngest in the little space behind the back seat under the rear window (that’s nine). When we got out at the beach people would actually stop and watch as we climbed out like a batch of clowns at a circus.
Ziva
September 2, 2010
Hmm… I have a bottle of vodka in the freezer right now and I do believe it’s calling my name. In case I forget to tell you later, I loooove your blog.
Frank Lee MeiDere
September 2, 2010
Speaking from experience, the best way to deal with the hang-over the next day is to spend all your time in the shower right next to the toilet and cry a lot.
Jon in France
September 2, 2010
Oh those carefree days of lunchtime drinking. The longest lunch I ever managed was 14 hours. It rather merged into dinner. But it was such FUN. Young people have no idea how to drink at lunchtime any more. Poor sods.
Frank Lee MeiDere
September 2, 2010
It’s true. They’ve missed the days that having a whiff of alcohol during working hours wasn’t reason to call in the morality police.
Jon in France
September 3, 2010
And have these “modern” attitudes increased the sum total of human happiness? Or stockholder values? I rather think not. So just what is the point of them?
Frank Lee MeiDere
September 3, 2010
In all honesty, I think the point of them is to prove to some unnamed, unspecified entity (perhaps God, perhaps a parent) that we’re not goofing off.
Leeuna
September 3, 2010
I’ve certainly done my share of drunk complimenting and no, it never turns out well. I’ve never had drinks for lunch at work before. I always saved all that for dinner — or the weekend.
Argentum Vulgaris
September 5, 2010
I loooove that teddy bear… I believe that was said already. That had me in fits. If I hadn’t already had the misfortune of spilling my coffee on the previous blog, I would have spilt it here; either way I would still be coffeeless. I have artfully avoided vodka freezer drinks simply because I don’t like vodka, but other forms of alcohol can and have produced similar faux pas, to that I can attest.
AV
Frank Lee MeiDere
September 5, 2010
It’s almost like there’s some mysterious link between alcohol consumption and the onset of idiocy. More study is unquestionably called for on this subject.
Argentum Vulgaris
September 5, 2010
I’m one step ahead Frank, I began studying this afternoon during the local football match, there is definitely a link, I will resume the study tomorrow afternoon.
AV
MikeWJ at TooManyMornings
September 7, 2010
Very funny, Frank. Or perhaps I should say, “I looove the teddy bear!”
For me, my days of intoxication ended (mostly) with a large tumbler of rum and Coke that left unable to walk the short distance from my living room to the toilet. I crawled instead, spent the next few hours hurling, and the next day in bed, apologizing to my amused wife.
Frank Lee MeiDere
September 7, 2010
The best marriages have an amused wife in them.
Linda Medrano
August 12, 2011
I actually cried I laughed so hard when I read this. When I was a green girl in my 20’s and 30’s, we all drank at lunch. I doubt anyone at Chevron got any work done after we rolled in at 2 or 3 in the afternoon from our 3 hour, 4 martini lunch. We also had parties. Lots and lots of parties. They were fun times if very dangerous. I don’t have the stamina for them now. But I too have been known to “loooooooooove that teddy bear”.