Address of Mike Hughes, ECD, The Martin Agency

ADCENTER GRADUATION
May 20, 2006
Mike Hughes
President / Executive Creative Director : The Martin Agency

My history with this great school goes back a long way. In fact, it goes back to the years before its founding. The school, the faculty, the administration, the board and, especially the students, have all been in my heart for a long, long time—and you have a big place there. But that's not why I'm here with you today. The invitation from Rick Boyko came in a roundabout way.

It started with an invitation early in the first semester from Mark Fenske to speak to his class. Then Rick and Mark talked about it and said maybe I should speak to the entire student body. Then Rick thought he'd kill two birds with one stone and invite me to speak at the graduation.

I'm always honored when asked to speak at the school because it means I've actually fooled someone into thinking I know something about advertising.

But Mark didn't want me to discuss advertising. He wanted me to talk about what I've learned as a result of having lung cancer. I'm one of those extremely rare people who have survived with lung cancer for a long time—11 years in my case. Within five years of their diagnosis, 99.9% of lung cancer patients are either dead or cured. I'm neither. Depending on how you look at it, I'm either very lucky or very unlikely.

I've had major surgery, major radiation treatments—and I'm now on my third round of
chemotherapy.

We all know Mark Fenske's sense of drama. He told me he wanted me to talk very candidly about my post-diagnosis life. His words were "open a vein in front of the students."

Yikes.

Well, that made me kind of queasy. So I promise not to open any veins today. But my experience may help me answer a question we hear from students all the time. It's a question most of us don't usually answer very well.

The question is this:
'HOW DO I BALANCE MY PERSONAL LIFE AND MY WORK LIFE?'

Again, Yikes!

I must confess that everyone I know who has made a difference in an industry has given it a big chunk of his or her life. I think it could be argued that the huge majority of successful people in industry have all failed at this balance thing.

Well, when I got my diagnosis of lung cancer and was told there was an 85% chance I'd be dead within 5 years, I needed to make some choices about personal and business things.

My wife and I aren't wealthy, but I could have retired. But I surprised myself.

I decided I wanted to spend major time doing major things with my family—but I also wanted to go back to work. We have a wonderfully successful company, but we've never gotten to the level I want us to reach. I wanted to go back to work and see if I could help take us there.

And I've never had a better time in my life. Don't get me wrong. I'm not some new age guy who's finally learned how to smell the roses. And I'm not in denial. I know my condition. I know my prognosis. And so I'm just doing the things I want to do—with my wonderful, beautiful wife, with my fabulous son and daughter-in-law and with the people who work at the same company I do.

I still work a stupid number of hours. Way more than 40 or 50 a week. But I have this gift that makes it all worthwhile. I do work I love with people I love. I think that's a gift. But here's what I want you to help me figure out today. Is that really a gift—or is it something you can develop? Because it's what we all want for you—work you love with people you love.

All of you will soon be going out into the workplace. You'll join organizations that are, like all organizations, imperfect. You'll see the dysfunctions up close. You'll suffer from the organization's failures. You'll live its frustrations.

Of course, you can't just accept imperfections, dysfunctions, failures and frustrations. You have to work—constantly, diligently —to right what's wrong. You will have successes and you will have failures. This work will never end.

And here's the big question: Will you find joy in this frustrating, never-ending circumstance—or will you be one of the bitchers and moaners who are constantly unhappy?

You will find joy—if you can learn to find joy in the work itself. The joy can't just come from success at the end of the day—it must come from the work itself. Not just from reaching the peak, but from making the long, hard climb.

For me, it's very simple. I find joy in making progress. I'm miserable when I'm standing still or moving backwards. And the only way I know how to make progress is to throw myself into the work.

In my case, the work might be moving my agency to a higher level. It might be developing a campaign for a client. It might be developing a better strategy or a better headline. Better yet, it might be developing a better strategist or a better copywriter.

Those jobs are, for me, hard and frustrating. There are reminders every hour of the frailty of other human beings and the abundance of my own personal weaknesses. I don't think I have a natural talent for those things: I have to work at it.

But in that work, I find joy.

So let's return to the original question: How do I balance my personal life and my work life?

Now for me, it's easy to see. The question is wrong. It's immaterial. It reduces a big question to a silly scale: how many hours for this, how many hours for that?

Because balance isn't what we seek in life.

Joy is what we seek in life. Messy, unbalanced, unpredictable joy.

And in my life—and maybe in yours—joy comes from doing the work, from making progress.

The opportunity to do that hard work is given to me every day. I just have to show up and the problems and challenges are stacked up on my desk — and they're all urgent. I have to dive in.

Now for the big irony: I go home at the end of the day, and I don't have work laid out for me. My wonderful, beautiful wife has taken care of just about everything. And I have the opportunity to delay the things I want to do in my personal life.

That's the mistake. Delaying the things you want to do in your personal life. Setting it aside so you can devote yourself – your time, your energy -- to your work.

Make sure you build the joy into your personal life, too. Make it as compelling as your work. In Viva Las Vegas, that great educator Elvis Presley wishes there were more than 24 hours in the day. That's how we embrace life.

More than any of the other students graduating across America today, you've been trained to

develop strategies and ideas. Use those talents and skills not just for advertising, but for your own life. Figure out how to love the big parts of your life and the people who live in those big parts with you.

You are surrounded today by people who love you. All of us wish for you a life full of work you love and people you love.

Viva the Las Vegas life.

One final thing. You have all been trained to develop ideas. I never got to go to a school like this, so I've learned, instead, to steal ideas. My partner John Adams spoke at the first Adcenter graduation 8 years ago. A lot of what I'm about to say, I've stolen from John. Here's a paraphrase of what he said:

The Adcenter is not like other advertising schools. As a result of that, you are stronger, more focused, better prepared, tougher than the graduates of most advertising schools. You’re an elite group. Consider this a school for advertising’s special forces. Consider yourselves Green Berets.

Now think what that means in the world. You can argue that the institution with the greatest influence on our culture today is not the federal government, not the church, but the corporation.

And while that may be debatable, what is not debatable is that the 300 billion dollars that is spent to project the voice of the corporation makes it a very powerful voice.

And it must become a better voice. So I’m going to ask you—the Green Berets—to save advertising from banality, self absorption and uselessness.

Save it also from mere usefulness. Instill it instead with power. Save it from mere cleverness. Instill it with deep intelligence. Save it from the mere call to action. Instill it with a call to lift ourselves up. This is a job for the Green Berets.

By the way, you’re outnumbered. There are legions of people who don’t share our view. For them the art of persuasion is just another science. It's fad and fashion masquerading as real ideas. For them it is impossible to underestimate the intelligence of the consumer. For them it’s just not worth that much trouble. For them advertising is spelled with a lower case “a” and is practiced with lower case talent. They are legions.

But you’ve been trained for this. You’re a Green Beret.

There's an interesting fact about the Green Berets. Each of them, like each of you, is trained in a specialty. But all of them are trained in the same second specialty. They’re all trained as medics. They’re all trained to take care of each other.

I hope you will find ways to take care of each other in the years ahead. To stay in touch and support each other. To remind each other of your goodness and the amazing capacity that is inside you.

Rick has been kind enough to indulge me in something I’d like to do.

As you receive your diploma today, I would be honored if you would accept from me a green beret as a token and a symbol. I don’t suggest you wear this on your first day at work—you won't need the Monica Lewinsky jokes. Just keep it on a shelf or in a drawer. As a reminder of who you are — and how much we all believe in you.

Remember, you are good people. You deserve the good things that will happen to you, and you have what you need to overcome the bad things that will happen to you.

One more last thing. I'm a lifelong non-smoker. I have lung cancer. I can't waste an opportunity to ask you one personal favor for me. If you do smoke, try one more time to quit. For me.

Congratulations. We love you. And thank you.