Creative Briefs #9: TBD
Haley opened the new project request, but saw so much white space that she mistook it for the blank template and immediately closed it.
“Hey Paul,” Lois said a minute later, “Can we add a minimum-character requirement on the online form? Why even have all those fields if this is all they’re going to give us?”
Haley opened the doc again and looked closer. Each question — objective, audience, deliverables, budget, point of contact — was followed by a tiny TBD. The only properly populated fields were the topic and the rapidly approaching delivery date.
Haley often wondered what people imagined happened when they sent a request to Marketing. She was flattered that anyone would think she was a linguistic alchemist, effortlessly conjuring clever lines and engaging content, even when there was no clear context or direction — but that perception was dead wrong.
She routinely sighed when project discussions started with the due date, but in person, even a vague or poorly vetted idea could be prodded into a plan. Because this was submitted through the cloud, there wasn’t even an email chain from which she could glean clues. She looked at the TBD next to the contact name and wondered how someone could have hit the submit button with a straight face. “Does someone actually expect us to execute based on a seven-word topic?”
Lois answered first, never looking up from what she was working on. “Of course they do, Halo. Whoever sent this shitshow thinks their part is done, at least until we give them something back and they tell us it wasn’t what they had in mind.”
“But if they don’t know what they want,” Haley asked, “how do they know how long it should take to get it?”
“They need it for the trade show,” Paul replied.
Lois finally looked up. “Wait, you talked about this with someone?” She was looking for someone to blame.
“No, I saw Randall’s EA in the breakroom.”
“And did you ask her to finish the form?”
“She didn’t have the details. As she said, it’s not Randall’s baby.”
“Of course,” Lois moaned as she focused on her screen again. “Who would claim this ugly thing?”
She wondered if requestors knew that the clean, crisp layout of a completed project came only from repeated rearranging of each visual element and tiny nudges to the kerning of every typeface. Probably not, because all they saw was their vague idea laid out before them in clear, simple splendor. Few acknowledged how much work it took to make it look easy.
Haley often wondered what people imagined happened when they sent a request to Marketing. She was flattered that anyone would think she was a linguistic alchemist, effortlessly conjuring clever lines and engaging content, even when there was no clear context or direction — but that perception was dead wrong.
No one outside the department saw the dozens of headlines Haley winnowed down to find a winner, or how her delete button was worn smooth by interminable edits. Nor did they see a bleary Lois sifting through yet another stock photo site to find something to replace the requested high-five photo.
She wondered if requestors knew that the clean, crisp layout of a completed project came only from repeated rearranging of each visual element and tiny nudges to the kerning of every typeface. Probably not, because all they saw was their vague idea laid out before them in clear, simple splendor. Few acknowledged how much work it took to make it look easy.
“I’ve already requested more info,” Paul said. “You can ignore this one until we get it.”
Haley laughed. “As opposed to getting started with what we currently have?”
“Too late,” Lois said with mischievous glee. “I’m already mocking something up.”
Haley slid her chair over to Lois’ monitor and saw she had taken an existing one-pager and changed all of the copy: the 120 pt Helvetica headline read TBD; beneath it, the copy was the worst lorem ipsum ever pasted, four brief paragraphs of “Tbd tbd tbd tbd tbd tbd. Tbd tbd tbd tbd tbd tbd tbd TBD tbd tbd tbd tbd.”
“I think you’ve got a typo in that second paragraph,” Haley joked.
“Let’s see if they notice. Obviously, there’s room for a longer headline if you think we should add some more TBDs. I just need to add a compass or a handshake before I send it off for their review.”
Haley smiled and slid back to her desk. She was almost certain Lois was kidding about sending it out for review — but she hoped otherwise.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
