So we didn’t win a trophy at Cannes last week.
This kinda baffled me – not because I’m an arrogant prick, but because two of our other less popular ads from the same campaign won finalist awards. And the one entry that had been our horse for the past 12 months – winning a Clio, One Show, BAFTA etc - didn’t win maird. Just plain baffling.
So on Monday I contacted Cannes asking if they’d even received the entry. The next morning they told me that they never got the entry and sent copies of our entry forms as proof. I looked through them, et voila, found the damn entry. But as I scanned the form, I discovered that our assistant had filled it out incorrectly and accidentally entered it in the wrong category.
Nobody caught the mistake. And the French, being lazy and constantly conspiring as a nation to make me unhappy, never bothered to inform us of this error. The horse never made it to the race.
So one line on an entry form gets filled out erroneously, and it costs me my best shot at a Cannes Lion. But hey - c'est la vie muthafucka. Time to move on and address more pressing issues of vanity, like my hair's recent inability to look cool.
Why am I assuming that we would’ve won if it had been entered? Because I’m an arrogant prick of course, and if you were standing in front of me right now, I’d be dancing my Jig o’ Arrogant Prickery - as demonstrated below by Herve Villachez.
(Man, remember back in the day when GIFs used to be the shit? Then Flash, Shockwave and Quicktime came along, and now GIFs are considered to be just plain ol’ shit, the trailer trash jesters of the Internet world.)
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