Career – Craig Jamieson

There should be outrage

Agencies are consolidating, jobs are being cut by the tens of thousands, and the creative industry is being hollowed out in real time. The voices that should carry weight are silent. Maybe they are relieved it was not them this time. That silence is costing us.

This is not a handful of redundancies. It is entire departments wiped out, whole networks of talented people with decades of experience suddenly unable to find work. Professionals who once had their pick of opportunities are sending out applications for months and receiving nothing more than automated rejections, if they hear anything at all. People with long careers are now locked out of interviews altogether.

AI itself is not the enemy. The technology has enormous potential to accelerate creative processes, to open new forms of expression, and to remove repetitive tasks that held people back. Used responsibly, it could help teams imagine, test and deliver at a speed that was never possible before. The promise is there, but the reality is very different.

AI does not create new clients or expand the number of people with money to spend. If the majority are unemployed or underpaid, there is no market for services, no audience for products, no demand for creativity. Wealth concentrated in the hands of the ultra-rich narrows the pool of opportunity. Faster delivery and cheaper production mean nothing if there is nobody left with money to pay for it.

The issue is not only the jobs being cut but the complete absence of any new economic foundation to replace them. Governments are doing nothing. There is no accountability for companies that erase tens of thousands of jobs overnight. There is no serious debate about universal basic income. When it does appear, it is framed as an insulting figure, five hundred bucks a month, an amount nobody can live on. If people are being denied the chance to work, then a real living income is the only solution. Anything less is abandonment. Add a few zeros if leaders want to pretend they are serious about the future.

At the same time, new roles are being promoted as innovation when they are nothing of the sort. Neo humanoid robots are being rolled out, controlled remotely by humans through headsets. The cost to rent one is less than five hundred dollars a month. Whoever becomes the eyes of that machine will be earning even less. Work has been reduced to operating a robot body at poverty wages while someone else collects the profit.

The creative industry is being squeezed from every direction. Teams are replaced by bots trained on stolen IP. Agencies are reduced to brand names attached to automated systems. Freelancers are left competing for scraps, forced to slash their rates while clients dictate every term of every contract. What remains is not a healthy marketplace but the dismantling of one.

AI is powerful and nobody disputes it. But technology cannot replace the wider economic ecosystem that allows people to live, work and spend. Without that foundation, AI only accelerates the divide. The wealthy consolidate even more while the majority are pushed out entirely. What is being called democratisation is in practice exclusion.

This industry was built by people who dedicated their lives to the work. They are being treated as disposable. Governments are looking the other way, protecting billionaires while leaving tens of thousands with no jobs, no income and no safety net.

AI is being positioned as the future, but the present reality is brutal. Workers are being discarded at scale, survival is being left to chance, and the silence surrounding it is not just disappointing, it is dangerous.

Where is the outrage?

Moving On Professionally

You know it’s time to find a new job. The thought crosses your mind every morning as you open your laptop or walk into the office. You’re no longer happy where you are, but you’re not sure how to make the move.

Dissatisfaction rarely comes from a single reason. Work that once felt challenging no longer pushes you. You’re feeling overlooked and undervalued. The culture has shifted to the point that it doesn’t feel like your place anymore. Growth has stalled, or you’ve already reached the ceiling. Each of these on their own can be managed for a while, but when they come together the pressure builds. Leave it unchecked and sooner or later you’ll snap, whether that means walking away too quickly, losing your temper at the wrong time, or burning bridges you might need later. It’s always better to move before you reach that point.

Getting ready to leave starts well before you resign. Your CV needs to highlight what you achieved, not just the list of responsibilities you carried. Your portfolio should tell the story of your impact, not simply showcase outputs. Talking to a coach, mentor or trusted peer can help sharpen how you present yourself and give you clarity on your strengths. These steps prepare you so that when the right opportunity appears, you’re ready to step into it with confidence.

LinkedIn plays a bigger role than many people think. It isn’t only about recruiters. It’s a space where you can show your work, your perspective, and the way you think. Writing posts, joining conversations, and sharing what you’re working on helps you stay present in the minds of others. This isn’t about gaming the system or chasing likes. It’s about being visible, being likeable, and being the type of person people are happy to recommend when a role comes up. Most opportunities flow through people, not job boards, and if you’re never seen or heard, you’re forgotten when those conversations happen.

At the same time the fear of being found out is real. You picture colleagues noticing small changes on your profile. You worry your manager will catch wind of it and start making plans to replace you. That’s enough to stop many people from acting, but it doesn’t have to. LinkedIn has quiet settings that let recruiters see you without you announcing it to the world. You can reconnect with old colleagues and start conversations outside your company. You can balance what you post so it feels professional without raising suspicions. The key is to focus on building relationships, not just asking for a job when you need one.

When the time comes to move on, how you do it matters as much as the decision itself. Don’t burn bridges. Give proper notice and make sure the handover is done well. Respect the people you’ve worked with, even if the experience wasn’t always positive. Thank them for the time you shared, acknowledge what you learned, and give credit to those who supported you. Stay connected with colleagues after you leave. Never talk badly about your old company or the people in it. The way you exit will be remembered long after your role is forgotten, and it will follow you into future opportunities.

Moving on professionally isn’t only about getting a new job. It’s about building and protecting the reputation you carry with you. Be the type of person people would value working with again and again.

Career Insurance

By the time you need professional help to land your next role, you will likely not be in a position to afford it. Most of us go it alone, never really considering that our situation can get that bad. Nobody wants to entertain that, until it does.

You probably will not say anything, because you will feel ashamed. This is a very normal way of feeling. You spend years propping yourself up, selling your best self, leveraging your job title, and believing that your worst day is as bad as it has ever been.

From what I am reading, unemployment is the highest it been in years amongst white collar tech employees. I do not know what black T-shirt wearing category that puts most creative types in, but it is fair to say many are struggling with the tech layoffs, global political and financial horror, and an industry identity crisis. I am brushing over this with a giant, lazy blanket statement about the poor state of the industry and assuming, like me, you are creative in one way or another. But this is not my point. It is something that could happen to anyone at any time.

Most people believe they will be safe in their job, regardless of how much they might dislike it. When that day comes that they are not, they try to manifest good things, because they are doing their best to stay positive and not be defeated by the challenges. You dust off the CV, try to figure out what work you might have saved to update the portfolio, and lean into your network for a new opportunity. Recruiters, job boards, freelance, side projects, there are so many things to try, and you do, but they still come up short. Not something someone with your years of experience wants to admit you are not very good at. But you never give up. You are just one more application away from that next opportunity, even if it is not a big one.

The savings get depleted. You are in fight or flight mode, trying to remain calm and keep up appearances, because you would not want to come off as desperate. Until you are. Then someone slides into your DMs, says schedule a call, which you do, and you sceptically and reluctantly entertain this sales pitch just in case. They know what they are doing, you feel seen, even if not heard, and then they hit you with their offer. But the problem is it is too late. You already cannot afford them. Parting ways with their fee, which is more than reasonable, is just something you cannot afford. Conventional wisdom would say you cannot afford not to. But when you are already leaning on family just to keep a roof over your head and have less money than you did as a broke teenager, it really is not something you can afford.

So you have no choice but to keep polishing your CV, applying for jobs, and waiting it out in the hope that something will give. You know if you just had enough money, they would be able to boost your career. Let us be honest, you are hoping they would and there are no guarantees. In fact, none of the very best advice really can.

It is the same with your health. I have seen many healthy people, obsessed with their well-chiselled six pack, tragically become ill or let themselves go, by no fault of their own. I have also seen unhealthy people who cannot find the motivation to take that first step to healing, so they remain overweight, in pain, and reaching out for that late night bag of crisps.

I cannot help most people stuck without a job or the means to afford professional help to secure their next role and get themselves out of financial ruin. But I can advise against believing it cannot happen to you. It has happened to me, on more than one occasion. I did nothing wrong. Just time and place. You do not have to make a mistake to learn from some of lifes tougher lessons.

So to anyone still in the good position to have a job, or unemployed with the financial means, speak to a professional who can help you position yourself should anything happen. That is part of job security. It is not only getting coaching in your current role, but investing in a future situation that hopefully never comes. It is not doomsday prepping, it is more like going to the gym three times a week. You might not have a perfect beach body, but you will be looking and feeling better than most people your age, and whether you can see it or not, building a foundation that will benefit you for years to come. Think of it as preventative care. We all know the benefits are much greater than trying to get treatment in an emergency.

If you are in the fortunate position to get professional help, take it. You don’t need a green open to work banner on your profile to need it. Get a coach, work on a maintenance plan to update your CV, actively engage with your network on LinkedIn, and keep your portfolio a little more current.

That is career insurance.

Opportunity and Talent

I am not good at everything. Nobody is. But I do know where my talents lie.

With enough effort, I could probably get by in many professions. But effort alone is not enough. There needs to be interest, even obsession. That is the fuel that makes talent grow.

Becoming a lawyer or a doctor, for example, requires a certain personality type. It looks glamorous on television, but the reality is far more demanding. I do not have what it takes to succeed in those paths. And that is fine, because there are people much smarter and better suited than me. That is why there are so many different professions in the world.

I have always been honest with myself about the things I am not good at. Basic life skills that come easily to others have never come easily to me. Sometimes I joke that I missed that class at school or that it simply was not in my DNA. It has cost me in different ways, but it has also made me lean harder into the things I can do well. In those areas, I thrive.

The truth is, talent without opportunity is wasted. I often wonder about the paths I might have taken if the right doors had opened, or if I had recognised them sooner.

Take video and film. I love everything about it: movies, series, YouTube, motion graphics, storytelling. I dabbled here and there, but I never truly had the opportunity. Growing up in South Africa, creativity did not feel like a serious path. The closest I came was working in a video store, watching everything on the shelves and becoming a movie buff. But I never broke films apart the way I once did in high school, analysing frame by frame.

Looking back, I see the moment I missed. In the 90s, I could have worked with a brilliant videographer, but I never asked for the job. I did not take the initiative. That chance slipped past.

Instead, I built websites in Flash, which led me into the career I have today. I have no regrets. But I do sometimes imagine the life I might have lived as a director, or in animation, or industrial design, or architecture. I believe I could have excelled in any of these fields. Not because I think I am naturally gifted in all of them, but because I know the way I throw myself into what captures my attention.

That is the point. We are all equipped with a range of potential talents. What we become is shaped as much by the opportunities we encounter as by the abilities we hold.

So my encouragement is simple: explore widely, experiment boldly, and do not limit yourself to one path. If something sparks your interest, dig deeper. See where it goes. If it does not, leave it behind.

There is no single route to happiness or success. Your career can be shaped in more ways than you might imagine.

Design Growth After Hours

A lot of designers I meet talk about wanting to be promoted, wanting to specialise, wanting to progress. But many are not willing to do more than what is asked of them inside their job description. They work the hours, tick the boxes, and then wait for growth to arrive.

The reality is that career progression rarely comes from doing only what is expected. The best designers I have seen are the ones who deliberately go beyond their 9–5 responsibilities. Not because they are forced to, but because they care about improving their craft and setting themselves apart.

This does not mean sacrificing your personal life or burning yourself out. It means being intentional with how you spend a portion of your free time. Every role offers some growth, but no single job will give you everything you need to become a better designer. If your development goals do not line up with your current position, you will need to take ownership of that gap.

Growth comes from exploring beyond the duties of your role. That could mean:

Building side projects that stretch you in ways your job does not
Learning the basics of engineering so you understand how design decisions impact technology
Developing your personal brand so that your influence extends beyond your current team
Investing in your taste and decision-making by exposing yourself to different ideas, industries, and experiences
Supporting others through mentoring, which sharpens your own clarity and leadership

Yes, courses, tutorials, and bootcamps are useful. But they are not enough on their own. True progress comes when you combine learning with practice, and when you deliberately step into spaces outside your comfort zone.

The industry is more demanding than ever. Tools change quickly, expectations rise, and the line between design, technology, and business keeps getting thinner. To stay relevant, you cannot only rely on what your employer gives you. You need to commit to developing yourself, continually and consistently, regardless of your current role.

This is why I believe designers should treat their careers as their responsibility, not their employer’s. That means auditing how you spend time outside work and carving out space to grow. Waiting for your bi-annual review or hoping the company will hand you the perfect opportunity is not enough.

Careers are built on choices made over years, not moments of pressure. If you dedicate even a small, consistent percentage of your time to growth, you will always move forward.

Because design is not just what you do from 9 to 5. It is how you keep building yourself to be the kind of designer the future demands.

Design Was the Skillset I Chose

Design is the skillset I have prioritised to leverage my creativity.

That single choice has shaped my entire career, but it could just as easily have gone another way. From the earliest descriptions of who I was, the word creative always appeared. By today’s definitions, some of the traits I carried might now be labelled differently, perhaps even as a disability, but at the time they were simply quirks that nudged me in this direction. It became the identity I took on. Whether that identity was imposed on me or the result of genuine talent is still up for debate, but I passed every test I ever took and won every art competition I ever entered.

The irony is that I am not competitive. I have never cared about competing with others, which is why I still do not value awards for their own sake. I only care how they could be leveraged to generate more business. But I was never considered a business person. Even when I turned talent into design skills, I never stood out for business acumen. I was recognised for creativity.

Still, I genuinely believe that had I pursued any other field, I would have thrived as long as I committed to it in the way I committed to design. I could have applied myself to almost anything. If you have not met me, you might be surprised to know the only thing I ever formally studied was personal training before I became a designer. If you have met me, you would probably understand.

The First Detour

I am not a bodybuilder. That is a whole other level of dedication. I have always been in good shape. That came from resisting the idea that I was useless at sport, even though I was never encouraged to play much. For the most part my family were overweight and did very little to stay in shape. My father, a pilot, was the exception, showing real athleticism through running, hiking, and keeping fit for his job. My brother and I looked different to the rest of the family, much slimmer, so at eighteen I started going to the gym to gain some muscle.

I got results quickly and learned that hard, consistent work pays off. I obsessed over training. I fantasised about bodybuilding, but I never had the discipline to build the frame required to compete. Still, I looked good enough to model and walk around with confidence. I still train with intent and consistency, and when I am not talking about design I am usually talking about fitness, nutrition, longevity and mental well being.

Early in my personal training career, I discovered I could make far more money in design with less time investment. I abandoned the idea of being a PT and committed to design. Despite once swearing I would never be a creative, and trying different paths, I found myself pulled into a career of creativity anyway.

Finding My Medium

At first, I thought I would be a graphic designer. I tried designing business cards, flyers, and letterheads. But I found web design early, and that changed everything. It was not only about visual design, I had to learn to code and build websites. That led into Flash, which opened the door to animation, illustration, sound, interaction, and experiences that were far richer than simple layouts.

I became obsessed with being an internationally recognised Flash designer. This distracted me from any other creative pursuits because I was fully committed. The more I built, the more attention I received, and the more ambitious my work became.

Over time, my skills broadened. Bigger clients demanded more than just Flash sites. I had to think about branding, campaigns, technology, and experiences. Year on year, I built range. But when the 2008 recession hit, working independently became unsustainable, and I started flirting with the idea of joining an agency.

In 2009, I entered advertising as a Creative Director.

From Designer to Leader

Being hired directly as a Creative Director meant leading from day one. I was responsible for digital and for integrating it with traditional teams, raising standards and pushing for brand building across channels. After a decade working for myself, the shift into leadership felt natural. I focused on outcomes and on helping people do the best work they could.

As a creative director my role was broad from the start. It covered brand, campaigns, digital integration and the wider picture of how creative work shapes perception and drives business. I thrived in that environment. Even without previous experience on set, without understanding why production was outsourced to directors or why DTP handled asset design, I figured it all out. I was just as comfortable concepting a TV advert as I was launching a website or planning a seasonal campaign. My personal taste and standards carried me through.

Leadership, however, was a skill I had to learn. At first, I thought I was doing fine, but in truth I was making mistakes. The difference was that I was open to guidance from great leaders, and I learned from them quickly. I applied their wisdom, caught up fast, and found success as a creative leader.

Beyond Agencies

When I left advertising, I intended to return my focus to design. But I never saw myself as only a designer. My career had taught me that my creativity had more range. I could deliver far beyond pixels. I expanded my scope into systems, product design, brand strategy, and content production at scale.

Even in my role as Chief Design Officer, where others sometimes saw the job as managing designers in Figma, I was reshaping brand perception, building a digital product function, and influencing business direction. I rebranded companies, introduced design thinking, built systems, took over social media, and spoke business with CEOs.

Creativity was always the lever I pulled. It gave me access to projects and responsibilities that others might have overlooked.

Beyond Design

Despite being boxed in at times, I have always seen myself as more than a designer. I can adapt to new tools and frameworks quickly, and I am not limited to a single discipline. Design has been my foundation, but I know I could have written, directed film, or worked in fashion with equal commitment.

Could I have been a successful businessman or CEO in any field? I believe so. But it takes only a few minutes with me to see where my instincts lie. I am creative. It is natural, it is obvious, and it has always been the constant.

Creativity as the Constant

The point is not that design was the only path open to me. It is that creativity is a transferable foundation. Once you commit to mastering a skill, the same mindset can be applied elsewhere. Design has been the skillset I prioritised to leverage my creativity, but the real story is that creativity itself is the asset.

It has carried me through industries, helped me adapt, and allowed me to thrive. Design was my chosen medium, but creativity has always been the thread running through everything I do.

Does your CV tell me what you actually do?

I have worked with many people, and the thing I care least about are the metrics. I know others care, but I cannot trust them. Who actually has the time to find out how a product they designed performed? Unless you are at a dedicated tech firm iterating on every release, those metrics are either not shared or not allowed to be.

I know my experience is not everyone else’s, but I am a realist. Most of what goes into a CV is nonsense that I simply do not care about. The only thing I want to know is what you can actually do. Most of the time I can gauge this from where you have worked before. I know the better agencies and people in the industry and can figure out whether you might produce the type of output we need. So just tell me what you can do.

This might conflict with all the advice floating around, even advice I have had to take when applying for roles in this broken industry. So let me tell you what I actually look for.

It is not a skills list. I hate those. Save yourself the keystrokes. I care about those as little as I care about how you claim to have increased conversions by 4% last quarter. I would rather know that you built a design system that integrated with the framework engineers were comfortable with, such as Tailwind. That is practical to me. This is what happens outside FAANG. People use tools that help them ship.

Yes, I have worked at places that did not use these frameworks, but only because I fought hard to keep the code proprietary since we had the resources. So if you have done the same, mention it. Or tell me you created Figma designs for a mortgage calculator, leveraging the client’s CI to inform your work, and built a small UI kit within budget to prepare for the next iteration. That is useful detail.

Tell me if you used Midjourney to generate concepts before briefing the illustrator who developed campaign content. What was the campaign idea? Did you run it yourself or hand it off? That tells me you can collaborate, explore new technology, and manage handoff.

If you have concepted an app, even if it lives only in your Figma file, share it. It shows what excites you and how you think. If you prefer research and were part of the team that designed onboarding for a banking app, that is fine. I understand you had nothing to do with the dashboard that failed.

These are real experiences. They are far more valuable than polished descriptions stuffed with metrics that could have been pulled from Excel. I could not care less if you know Excel. I only care that you understand your role in design, have dealt with the constraints of small agencies working with early stage startups, or contributed to squads at a high street bank still trying to lead in digital twenty years too late. That says more than any metric ever could.

I cannot tie metrics to your actual contribution. But hearing you describe your real work experience is something I can understand, and it is why I would hire you. The people demanding metrics are delusional, selling lies they have convinced themselves of.

I have been in this industry longer than most. What you can actually do matters. I can spot the nonsense, and I am not afraid to call it out. I lead through brutal honesty and a very direct nature. I will push you to be your very best. Being straight with each other and we’ll do great work together.

Thanks to DDH for his inspiring video on this topic.

Recruiters should be talent agents

Recruitment works better when it feels more like representation. The most effective recruiters aren’t acting as middlemen but behave like agents. Such professionals know their talent, back them, build trust, create access, and understand how timing and fit actually work. This shift in mindset changes everything.

You’ve seen this before. A client sends over a job spec and the recruiter reposts it to LinkedIn. Hundreds of applications come flooding in. Within hours, the inbox is full and the system is overwhelmed. No one gets a good experience, not the client, candidates, or recruiter.

Recruiters often complain they do not have the time to respond to everyone or to sort through portfolios properly. But the chaos is a symptom of waiting for client requests and then call for candidates begins. Theres only going through CV’s and forwarding them on.

I propose a better approach. Start early, build a bench of talent before the demand appears, know who is doing good work, and understand what they are looking for. Stay in touch with the people in your network, even when they are not actively searching. That way, when a client calls, you already know who to call back.

Clients do not need help reposting jobs. If they have written the spec, they can post it themselves. What they expect from a recruiter is access. Such clients want a shortlist and perspective. People want to know who you rate, and why. That is what earns the fee and builds trust.

Talent agents work this way all the time. In film, in sport, in music: representation is proactive. Agents do not wait for the casting call before getting involved. Such professionals know their client and understand the brief before it arrives. Agents pitch, coach, and prepare while creating the opportunity, not just responding to it.

Recruiters could be doing the same in creative and tech. Many already have the network and just need to activate it differently.

Help your candidates refine their CVs, shape their portfolios, understand their ambitions, know when they are open to move, offer interview prep, and give feedback. Bring creative leaders into your process if you do not feel confident reviewing portfolios yourself. Turn quality into your edge.

Recruitment agencies should be attracting candidates by sponsoring industry events, regularly publishing trend reports and making sure candidates up upping their skillsets to respond to demand.

You don’t need to be a middleman pushing paperwork between two sides because that isn’t the role anymore.

The people you represent should trust you before the job goes live. Clients should feel the preparation in your process, not just see a name on a list.

The best recruitment is built on readiness rather than rush, where you represent people well, stay close to them, and earn the right to place them.

That is the job.

Interviews Should Be Conversations

The job interview shouldn’t feel like an interrogation. It should be a casual conversation over coffee, not across a boardroom table. A chance to show who you are, how you think, and whether you’d be a good fit, without being made to perform.

You’ve done the work, made the time, and are already under pressure to make a major life decision. The least you deserve is to be treated with warmth and respect.

You shouldn’t be forced through a formal process full of questions designed to catch you off guard. The goal should never be to test your nerves. The person speaking to you should already understand your work and career path, or they shouldn’t be interviewing you. You should be met by someone who knows what to look for, who wants to understand your experience, values, and whether you’d connect with the team.

When just starting out, it’s about excitement for the opportunity to practice your craft, a hunger to learn, and the energy you’ll bring. As a senior designer, you’re still coachable, have passion for the craft, and how you add your experience to the team. And as a leader, it’s about vibe, whether you bring energy that uplifts the team and if your values align with how we work and what we do.

This process should never feel like surviving a Ninja Warrior course. Meeting someone excited to do meaningful work together is a privilege.

When referred by someone who’s actually worked with you, that recommendation should count. There’s a big difference between a mate doing a favour and a respected peer backing you because they know what you bring.

Applying through a public process due to reach or regulation doesn’t mean you deserve less. If there’s little to go on online, a good hiring lead should ask for more, not disregard your CV. It’s their job to look a little closer, ask the right questions, and find out who you are. By the time you meet, it’s just a final gut check. A relaxed, honest chat to confirm you’re excited, understand the offer, and are ready to join.

You deserve to know what you’re walking into, not just the version being pitched. You deserve the transparency of where things are working, where they’re not, and what’s still being figured out.

Maybe you’re still employed and are simply searching for something new, a place to grow and contribute in a way that feels meaningful. Either way, you’re being asked to leave something familiar behind and give up a third of your day to help build someone else’s business. That comes with expectations and you deserve to know this next step will move you forward, not hold you back.

When companies don’t take the time to have proper conversations, they have no business posting jobs. Recruitment agencies that neglect to maintain a live network of candidates shouldn’t be scrambling to fill roles on demand. A good recruiter builds relationships well before a client reaches out. Their role is not to forward CVs, but to help talent succeed. Too many act like middlemen, stepping in only when asked, instead of doing the work to find, support, and prepare people ahead of time.

The creative industry isn’t that big. It’s often the same pool of talent moving from company to company, all trying to find the right fit or a new challenge. Right now, something’s broken. Too many great people are out of work. Standards have become so unrealistic that almost no one can meet them. The market feels flooded, so companies keep raising the bar, assuming there’s always someone better, rather than recognising what’s right in front of them.

If you’ve been in this industry long enough, you know the most valuable thing you bring is experience. That can’t be replaced by a piece of paper. What matters is who you are, how you think, show up, and work with others. None of that fits neatly onto a CV.

Your portfolio might open the door, but that’s not the full story. If someone truly wants to hire you, they’ll check your LinkedIn, read your recommendations, and look at your site. Even if there’s not much to see, there should be something that gives them a sense of you. And if not, they can ask.

Your application should never be disregarded without a little effort, as you deserve a fair chance to be understood, not just assessed.

That starts with a conversation. Not an interrogation.

Beyond the Job Title

I don’t design so much as I give design or creative direction. I’m a leader, but I still give direction. I default to Creative Director, and given the level I’m at, I sometimes say Executive Creative Director. I’ve been a Chief, but that seems to scare some and confuse others.

But that’s not what this is about.

I’m talking about the role you play. Not your title, but the actual role. The way you show up. What you take responsibility for. What others rely on you for.

This isn’t about me and my experience, I’ll try to keep it about you.

What role do you play?

It’s usually a really tough question to answer, and if I told you to explain it in one sentence, I’d probably stress you out. While you think about that, and you’re welcome to add your answer in the comments, let me explain what I mean.

If I ask most people in advertising agencies what they do, I’ll get two common answers: “I’m a copywriter” or “I’m an art director.” Sometimes with “junior” or “senior” in front. But that tells me very little about the role they actually play or the work they actually do. Is it print, web, above the line, below the line, through the line? And what does that even mean to someone outside of the ad industry?

If I asked a designer in an in-house team at a fintech, most would say they’re a UI designer, UX designer, or maybe a product designer. If pressed, some might say “I do user research and user flows,” which is a bit more specific to their day-to-day practice. But few would say “I work on the user experience of banking products like how to freeze your credit card” or “I work on onboarding for the business banking app.” Not many people go that granular because they might be jumping across multiple features while working at the company.

Most are likely also distracted by chasing the junior, senior, lead titles. It’s understandable, we all want growth and to be recognised for our achievements.

Another thing that sometimes gets added by advertising folk is “award-winning,” and by designers, “user-centred.” There are lots of crafty ways to say these things.

Let me bring it back to me for a second.

I can remember trying to write a one-liner that explained what I did, something that captured the breadth of my experience. I would say Executive Creative Director, then add “from concept to execution.” Whether it worked or not, I don’t know. I don’t recall getting too many questions about it. But I felt it worked because it included the job title, which covered the seniority, the “creative” (since most things at the time were still lumped together), and the fact that I give direction. Then it explained that I work from the concept of a campaign all the way through to execution, meaning building out the full solution.

This felt important to me. In advertising, most creatives only really did conceptual work. They were paid to come up with mood boards, storyboards, ideas and campaigns, but they handed it off. The work was then done by DTP teams, directors, campaign managers, art buyers, producers, etc. Rarely did they do the final work themselves. That was outsourced. They would give final approval and still get most of the credit, as agencies were mostly in the business of big ideas.

But as a digital creative director, we often had to come up with the big idea, create all the assets, build it, and run the campaigns. Hence “from concept to execution.”

In in-house teams, there’s broadly speaking a UX phase and a UI phase. Maybe a discovery phase and a delivery phase. Research and conceptualisation, then development of visual assets. But it’s usually handed over from design to dev, and the output is often not what you originally intended. Many designers are left feeling disappointed.

But given how long these things take in corporate, “shipping is shipping” and apparently we’ll iterate next time. Or so it’s sold.

So my earlier soundbite after Executive Creative Director made sense at the time. No one challenged it. It worked. But now I find it more challenging.

Again, this isn’t about me. What about you?

I read titles and headline descriptions all the time. Very few actually say more than the job title. The ones that do try to describe what they do often end up making a really confusing statement. And I often see the same generic “user-focused” blah blah I’ve probably used myself.

Occasionally, I read something with a bit more clarity. It might explain that someone works within a specific industry or business unit, or on a specific product or feature. That certainly helps.

But what do you actually do? That’s the elusive nugget we should all be searching for.

Some of these headlines include a flex, like “award-winning.” In tech, it’s usually “ex-Google” or “ex-Facebook.” That’s just a flex, like saying “Oscar-winning director” or “three-time best-selling author.” You have every right to flex. It adds credibility.

So what do you do? What if you had to pick one statement? Maybe two. I understand how diverse your skill set has to be to get any job these days. There’s no judgement from me. I’m simply trying to work this out in my own mind. Trying to figure out if what we say makes any sense to anyone else besides ourselves.

I usually try to explain that I lead teams, building experiences people love. It says what I do. It says what we deliver, not just with my input, but together, as a team. And who it’s for. Oh, and that they actually love it.

I also have a cheekier line I use now and then. I say I’m the creative leaders’ leader. Because I am. I lead creative directors and other senior leaders. I use “creative” because “design” feels too narrow. I say “leader” instead of “director” because not all leaders direct. There are leads, heads, managers, and so on. But I’m their leader. I represent their function within the organisation.

I’m always trying to find the most elegant way to say this and to make sure it lands, which I have to admit has gotten tougher over the years. I’m asked all the time what I do, and I fumble. I throw things out to see what lands.

And if I struggle to explain it to someone in person, writing it in a way that makes sense to anyone else is even more challenging.

Do you feel the same way too?

I’d love to know how you describe yourself, in person or in your headline, outside of your job title.