Greatest American Zero

Dateline: LOS ANGELES

August 1990

Way back in my old agency days I sat down in my office overlooking the multimillion dollar south of the boulevard homes and the phone rings. It’s a buddy of mine that works for Good Housekeeping and she needs me to be the handler for Connie Sellecca for her November 1990 cover shoot. I said “Really? How does this work? Why me?” She said, “I don’t know, she called, she found you. She heard good things about the way you handled the Brooke Burke M&Ms incident.”

There’s only one problem. In order to take this plum, pro bono assignment, I had to cancel as the plus one at a dinner with my then girlfriend (who shall remain nameless). Now for those of you too young to remember, Ms. Sellecca was the “it” woman on prime time television just finishing 10 years on two hit ABC shows, Hotel and The Greatest American Hero. Needless to say, I wasn't turning down being her Boy Friday. After some haggling with the soon-to-be-ex, I was in.

So there I was at the photo shoot cracking jokes with Connie’s publicist and her stylist and generally we had a great time. So at the conclusion of the shoot when the photographer called it a wrap, everyone gathered around hugging it out. Everyone but me. I mean I was the only newbie on set, how could I? I didn’t want to come off as creepy office guy who grabs a grope. Besides, who knew where the spies were that the soon-to-be-ex might have planted. I took the safe road. I executed a perfect high five then made sure the Lincoln Town Car delivered her home safely. Sadly, we parted ways.

The next day, I’m back in my office and there’s a giant arrangement of orchids waiting for me on my desk. The note read, “Thank you for a charming day. XO Connie (213) XXX-7761.” The flowers came with the 10 digits, so I gave her a call and said “Miss Sellecca, I got your flowers. Thanks!” She replies, “What a day yesterday, thanks again. I’m looking at the photos yesterday right now. You even took a good one, and call me Connie.” I was definitely excited about the whole “Call me Connie” thing, but since I was still committed to the soon-to-be-ex, I quickly ended the call so it wouldn’t get serious. Geez, I thought highly of myself back then.

So the next day I get back to my agency desk and there is Chia Pet with a note that says “Call me, luv Connie.” So I do and during the quick conversation I said thanks again for a great time and reminded her I was with the soon-to-be-ex and she was married to Buck Rogers! She seemed disinterested at best, but I didn’t notice.

On the third day I arrived to the agency and there’s a fanny pack on my desk with a $20 in it with a note clipped to it saying “Jump in the first cab and meet me.”

So my office mate Lisa Goldstein tells me, “You better call her and set her straight. She's going to ruin your relationship with [name omitted] and you’re going to be a massive home wrecker yourself. This girl is out of control.” I said there’s no way the statuesque Connie Sellecca wants me? No way.

The final day I show up and there’s a small hat box on my desk. Open it up and there is a pair of La Perla intimates with a hint of allure and no price tag on them. Yep, there was a note in there as well. “I need you right now.” So Lisa urges me to call again. “Straighten her out RIGHT NOW as only you can. You have to lay down the law. Show her who’s boss and make sure she gets the message this time.”

By this time Lisa has whipped me into a frenzy, so I pick up the phone and call. She interrupted me before I could get too far, “Hey Michael, I’m with some friends running dialogue. Can I call you later?”

I said, “Run this dialogue past your friends – ‘this has got to end, and now. From the last four days, I can see you got it bad for the Media Guy. All these gifts have to end. Sending those panties was the final straw.'”

She was incredulous, saying that “WHAT PANTIES? Have you lost your mind?”

“Have I lost my mind? You’re the one sending the unmentionables…”

Just then I glanced up and there the entire office was capturing it all on videotape. It was a big slice of humble pie explaining what had happened as she laughed about her publicist sending the original flowers and Lisa falling down laughing, claiming she sent the rest.

I couldn’t have been Punk’d better by Ashton Kutcher himself. Years later I wondered if this practical joke had anything to do with her having no sex for over two years with John Tesh until their wedding night. Later I found out she was fond of playing practical jokes. In fact, then-husband Gil Gerard got so used to coming home and finding her lying in a pool of fake blood, he developed a scoring system for her. Who knew?

I heard that David Letterman or Jimmy Kimmel pulled the same thing that Lisa did years later. Yes, the Media Guy and his team were always trendsetters.

R.I.P. Macho Man

Back in 1988 I was a kid. Barely 20, but already leading major accounts in the marketing battlegrounds.

Guilty pleasures back then weren't sneaking in some KC and the Sunshine Band or Go-Go's songs, it was professional wrestling. My buddies would gather and we would watch the Hulkster, Andre the Giant, Superfly Snuka, and the "Macho Man" Randy Savage.

Savage was the bearded lunatic with the gorgeous valet Miss Elizabeth who captivated the booger-eaters who thought this was all real. He had a presence that sold millions of pay-per-views at $39.99 a pop. 

Yes, Vince McMahan was right, the whole world was watching.

Today when he died at 58, so young like many of his contemporaries. The Macho Man lives on with a mystical slow-motion flying elbow on homage to my first real insight on consumer media. A moment of silence for Randy Savage.

Do yourself a favor and read ESPN's Bill Simmons' eulogy to the Macho Man.

RIP Randy Savage...Oh yeah!

Driving in LA

Traffic, traffic, traffic. It gives you a lot of time to think, rant and reflect.

Is this the price we pay for good weather?  Do we have to be depressed every quarter mile? Hello Mayor Villaraigosa…I can’t go for any stretch of a drive without seeing graffiti, barbed wire, trash, a hobo or a sign that says “hey, if you’re going to flush your kid away, drop him off at the fire house.” If Lucy saw all this when she hit town in 1955, she would have bugged Ricky to leave as soon as Bill Holden’s kiss dried up.

Speaking of gloomy, what’s the most depressing fast food restaurant there is? Is it H. Salt Fish and Chips? There is no franchise with less curb appeal than H.Salt. That old time look with crisscross lattice on the windows and newspaper/wallpaper inside. All of them need a facelift. Worse are when restaurants meet their demise and the clearly franchised architecture becomes something else. Nothing drags you down like seeing the Taco Bell mission or that weird blue crowned IHOP roof or a giant Der Wienerschnitzel dog house as a chiropractor or some 97 Cents store. It all leaves you wondering what they did with the bell in the hole of the marquee.

But we all know what spelled their downfall. It’s the evil food executives. Imagine them sitting around asking “how can we make people fatter?” Can you see the brainstorming meeting? Around the room they go:

Exec #1: Don’t look at me. I came up with the deep fried Oreo deluxe pancakes. Remember that?

Exec #2: Oh yeah, you got a nice bonus that year. You’ve been riding that success for 24 months. Time for something new.

Exec #1: How about we take a taco and put a burrito around it with a thick layer of cheese in between the two and we deep fry it in some supposedly non-trans fat oil?

Exec #2: Now you’re talking.

And what’s the deal with Coke vs. Pepsi. Can’t we find a common ground? Why can’t we have a choice? You go into a restaurant and I get a Stella, you can get a Bud Light and she can get a Guinness. But goodness gracious sakes alive if you want a specific cola. How many times have you been out and you order a Coke and they ask, “is Pepsi alright?” You know what? It’s rarely ok. Why can’t they pour Pepsi and Coke? Let the managers figure it out. They have enough spickets at the fountain and everything else under the sun. Get rid of the Poweraid or one of the Fanta flavors. Give us a choice between Coke or Pepsi and let the best cola win, like old time hockey, let’s settle this over ice.

I was out with a colleague recently and I, uh, dislike Pepsi – unless they are offering me a plum marketing gig – and they served me a Pepsi after I ordered a Coke. Ugh, I could taste it. There’s a firm rule in the Media Guy’s household: no Pepsi shall pass my palette. I literally spit it out…right in my colleague’s face.

Him: “WHAT HAPPENED”

Me: “This isn’t Coke!”

Him: “What? You couldn’t swallow it?!”

Me: “Not on your life. Call a doctor!”

As I’ve said before, I know nothing about music, but these Timeless Tunes have to go. The Playlist from hell has Eurythmics’ Sweet Dreams (those two dudes bother me still), Joan Jett’s I Love Rock and Roll (three chords of death) and Tears for Fears’ Shout (this is the song I can do without). Enough already.

My final tip of the day goes something like this…Every job has something that requires a little work. I don’t care if you are a roller coaster tester or a cookie taster for Mrs. Field’s, there is always something that’s a little nuts and bolts. A grind if you will where there’s some clerical junk where you have to be specific and take good notes or craft a great communiqué. I find that people who are attracted to creative professions, i.e., the “Creatives”, don’t really like the nuts and bolts part. They like the fun parts. Graphic designers always like to ignore the fine points of copy; butchered headlines like this:

No lattes fees

This bank may have wonderful free coffee, but I’m watching out for the late fees

In a prefect world, you are always professional.

Nobody's 'prefect', I guess.

Don't Pay To Much

Even ads for mobile homes deserve to be right.

You know what I say when I see this? I say, “stop seeing things through the prism of your creative eye and ignoring the details that are lined up for you. I want your creative meshed with my creative to deliver brilliance. Don’t you?”

Pay attention to details people and teach your kids to do the same.

Geez. I’ve only gone eight miles in 35 minutes.

NEXT TIME: I’ll tell you the story how a good friend convinced me that actress Connie Sellecca was in love with me after a red carpet event in 1990.

The Borgia Pope Redefines Geography!