Client: Exactly. See what you can come up with.
Client: See you tomorrow.
Me: [Into a now silent phone] For fuck's sake.
This is terrible. The client in question believes me to be a 'creative'. I am not. I have people who can be creative on my behalf but they can't 'magic things up' in one day flat - they need to go shopping for moccasins for at least a week to enliven the imagination before they come up with anything. I'm going to have to do this myself. And, if anything, I'm a 'destructive'.
I canvass the opinion of my colleagues.
The client has the largest taxi firm in the sprawling city that I have a peculiar love/hate relationship with. They're not, but let's just say they're called 'City Cabs'. And I want to keep on the right side of him for two reasons:
1) I pay next to fuck all for taxis these days.
2) Like any cash business of that size, it's fucking rife with organized crime.
Thug Colleague: 'Pulled a munter? Be a punter of City Cabs'?
Me: Thanks for your help. No. Really.
Lovely But Stupid: [Back from maternity leave] What about safety? You've read about these pretend mini-cab drivers who assualt drunk girls who think that they're getting into real taxis?
Me: [Quite surprised. This is sounding sensible. Maybe motherhood has sharpened her wits] Ok. All the drivers are CRB checked [amazingly] as it happens.
LBS: [Not joking] Well there you go. How about - 'City Cabs - We Won't Rape You'?
Unless anyone comes up with anything better before 10.00am tomorrow morning that's what I'm walking in there with.