Our agency sets out aways from the hustle and bustle, on a nice patch of wooded area.  If you think about that Robert Frost poem about the two roads diverged in a yellow wood, the path to our agency is definitely down the road less traveled by.  Whether “that has made all the difference,” I’m not sure.  But it does make for a great creative environment.  For some reason, the ideas flow a little better when you look out your window and see a stand of  trees–or a family of raccoons, like in footage below captured out of one of our office windows.

What is certain is that, when it comes to effective advertising, it just might pay to take the road less traveled by.  Sure, there are plenty of ads out there that try to claim the same great things, and attempt to shout louder than the others.  For me, the most memorable ads, the calls to action that strike me, stand apart from the rest and go places the others don’t.

A few minutes with … Susan Armstrong, President and CEO

01:24 p.m. Strolling across the building to Susan’s office, we practice our sales pitch in hopes of getting permission to sit and talk with her for a little bit. Taking a deep breath, we boldly stride in … only to find an empty desk. Empowered by the aura of leadership that courses throughout her office, we make the executive decision that “A Few Minutes without Susan” is less interesting than “A Few Minutes with Susan,” and should probably come back later.

02:30 We swing back by her office, and she’s finally returned. Unfortunately, she is already in a meeting with a vendor who has dropped by to do some work around the office. Drat.

02:45 From deep within our cubicle, we hear Susan’s voice ring out nearby. Investigating, we see that she has escorted the vendor into the kitchen area and should hopefully be wrapping things up. Mental note: be prepared to intercept her on her return trip.

03:00 We’re obviously working too hard. We miss the close of her conversation and she has somehow escaped back to her office, where she is already embroiled in deep conversation with John DeCesaro, one of our account executives. We consider sending a fake emergency text message to John, but decline to do so.

03:30 We begin to question the viability of this terrible, terrible idea. If we could fire ourselves, we would.

03:47 Aha! We’ve finally captured Susan in her office. She agrees to let us sit in, though wonders aloud if anything she does will be all that interesting. We assure her that isn’t a concern for us, because we’re mostly planning on making fun of her.

03:48 She gives us a quick recap of her background: journalist for the Hays Daily News; account executive for local agency Stephan Advertising; then the biggie, the launch of her own company, Armstrong Creative Services, in 1981. In 1992, the company’s name changed to Armstrong|Shank after the addition of Vice President and Creative Director Ed Shank. Now, 27 years later after its official launch, the company is still going strong and Susan is as busy as ever.

03:52 The intercom beeps in with a call — just the sort of thing we were hoping for. We watch intently as she transforms from accommodating boss into high-powered executive.

03:53 Susan is masterful on the phone, handling what is surely a crisis situation with a cool efficiency and calm demeanor. “It was my son,” she says after hanging up. “He wanted to know what’s for dinner.” True leadership on display.

3:54 A discussion of what a typical day is like for her ensues: Her mornings are where she does the majority of her planning, as afternoons are often spent attending to client needs — meetings, returning phone calls, e-mails and more. When not dealing directly with the client, her time revolves around strategic planning work for future projects, or being hunched over an adding machine on important budgets. Oftentimes, dealing with agency-centric concerns is pushed to evenings and weekends. As many business owners can attest to, it’s not easy being the boss. But she assures us that it’s definitely worthwhile.

04:05 The conversation pauses as a raccoon walks by Susan’s window.

04:07 Finally, we decide she’s put up with us long enough. We thank Susan and return to our cubicle, satisfied in the knowledge that we have successfully wasted the only quiet time she has had all day.

Looks like a Paul Simon song out my window. There’s a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow all over the woods behind our building. The black trees are frozen stiffly in place. The sky is a gray felt hat pulled down tight. Our bird feeders are by reservation only. The squirrels are scrunched up tight against the ground ravenously devouring the black oil sunflower seeds scattered about.

It’s a pretty picture-postcard, but I’m fantasizing about spring. I see goldfinch transformed from drab winter brown to brilliant summer yellow. I long for tender green leaves and deep shade sheltering a newborn fawn. And to feel a gentle breeze through my sliding door as I’m soothed by water splashing from the fountain in our reflecting pool.

Bitter winter temperatures and snow on the ground is a hardscrabble existence for the animals. Our furnace at home went out a few days ago, and even though the new one makes the house all toasty, I’m still not warm. The failed furnace gave me insight into the plight of the homeless and of my woodland friends all puffed up against the cold.

During milder winter days we never see birds in these numbers or variety at our back door: chickadee, titmouse, dark-eyed junco, harris sparrow, white-throated sparrow, goldfinch, house finch, cardinal, downy woodpecker, red-breasted woodpecker, and Carolina wren, to name the most common. Squirrels are daily visitors. But the snow blanketing the ground has driven animals we rarely see out into the open; even a rabbit lumbers awkwardly through the snow to our larder. For the most part, even when the day’s offering begins to run low, all animals share without conflict. The exception is that birds of the same species do have their pecking order.

In unison, the birds explode from the ground and race to cover. Either someone walked by the windows on the back of the building, which happens often, or a hawk is about. A blue jay screams raucously. And there it is: the party pooper – either a cooper’s or sharp-shinned hawk. Perched majestically on a hackberry limb about 15 feet above the forest floor, the predator is immobile except for its head rotating purposefully. Closer examination says the interloper is almost certainly a cooper’s. Standing nearly twenty inches, a large cooper’s is about the size of an average crow. Perfectly adapted for flying aggressively through trees, with short, powerful wings and a long tail for balance, they make their living feasting on smaller birds and animals. When they’re about, feeding birds at a feeder is like setting the table. Even the squirrels take cover.

It’s a deep and dark December.