I was once at one of these big agency workshops where the founder comes to rally the troops.
Somewhere in the middle of him celebrating this year’s achievements and telling inappropriate jokes (it was 2012), he said something that always stuck with me about agency culture.
“Culture is the cheapest thing to get right, but the most expensive thing to get wrong.”
He then admitted that even though the agency had spent half a million dollars (it was 2012!) organizing the workshop, flying everyone in, decorating the space to create a ‘little culture’ — it’d be the cheapest, most valuable thing they did all year.
And it was true.
Since then across everywhere I’ve worked — big, small and in between — it’s been true.
In the business of creativity, culture is everything and nothing all at once.
The unsaid rituals & the unwritten codes, multiplied meeting after meeting, day after day is the difference between good work and great work. Between miserable people and motivated people. And ultimately, between profit and loss.
Since then, I’ve been turning his quote over and over in my head — trying to figure it out.
What’s the source?
What’s the beating heart of a great culture?
I’ve finally landed on my answer:
The center of every great creative culture is a great conspiracy.
As in, the whole operation feels like planning a heist.
It’s a group of invested people who all believe they know something the world doesn’t and are feverishly working together to take full advantage before the world finds out.
It’s internal creative meetings feeling like scenes from Ocean’s 11. How are we going to do this? How are we going to sell this? Let’s try a ‘somersault.’ (And somehow everyone understands and knows their role).
It’s always feeling like the underdog — no matter how big or successful the agency. It’s still ‘us vs. them.’ Or pirates vs. navy. Or black sheep vs. white flock. Or misfits vs. squares.
It’s mythology and mantra whispered to encourage each other to try, try, try again. Good ain’t good enough. Fail faster. Don’t zig, zag. Just do it.
It’s selling soap feeling like launching a rocket.
It’s the planner presenting the creative and the suit presenting the strategy and the creative presenting the timeline in client meetings.
It’s leaders doing tasks three levels below them and juniors do tasks three levels above them — when the conspiracy calls for it.
It’s a contagious self-narrative of why whatever we’re all doing — it’s our collective destiny.
All great work feels impossible, one-in-a-million, crazy — the conspiracy makes it feel within reach. Inevitable, even.
Amazing things happens when it all feels like a conspiracy.
I encourage you to create your own.
Ideally, for less that half a million dollars.
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