What happens when a copywriter ends up in a restaurant, carrying a full tray of plates, dishes, and unfulfilled creative ambition?
Everything. Everything happens.
And it falls.
And it shatters.
But hey — at least there’s a blog in it.
Crash!
Oops. That was my hand-carried tray full of plates and glasses.
An original piece, clumsily placed near the edge while I rushed to pick up another order.
Damn it, gravity works!
And it slaps you back to reality at exactly 9.8 meters per second squared.
What does that even mean?
Buy metal dishes, alstublieft.
Now I’ve got double the work.
Grab the magic broom — the one from commercials that cleans messes before they even happen.
And smile.
Because the show must go on.
Or press undo.
Yeah, much easier.
But damn… life doesn’t come with an undo button.
The copywriter in me whispers:
When life gives you lemons, make sure they’ve got a thick rind and barely any juice.
Dilute them, sister.
So there I am, broom in hand, with the smile of a panda who just got a fruit cake, shifting into autopilot and thinking:
How would this be in an ad?
Would I use a magic broom?
A perfectly thick and foamy dishwashing powder that not only cleans but repairs shattered dishes?
Or would I go full-on all-in-one?
Oh yes… all in one!I float like a butterfly to the fridge, where a note on the door says:
“Keep this door closed.”
Of course I open it.
Just to make sure later that it was truly closed.
And there…
My throat tightens.
From stress, from expectations, from thirst.
It’s dry like cardboard.
Craving something… something that could lower expectations.
Add weight to the already heavy.
Like seconds on seconds.
Open up a new world of possibility.
Tullamore Dew.
Ah! There you are — I’ve been looking for you everywhere!
In a trance (because how else, when you’re at work),
I grab a crystal-clear glass, washed with that magical thick and foamy dish soap,
polished so finely that you could write a blog post through it.
I open the bottle.
Out comes a spirit who asks:
“What can I do for you today?”
For me?
Clean everything. Serve the guests.
And give me at least thirty minutes of peace.
I pour the liquid gold and raise it to my now critically parched throat.
Gulp..aaahhh….
The magic of that first sip.
Warmth. Focus.
My moment. A parallel universe where I actually exist.
My lemonade turns into tea.
And like a true master —
of course I checked that the fridge door is firmly closed.
My butterfly has turned into a squirrel.
One that jumped through all the obstacles of the day.
And the slogan?
“When everything goes wrong, make sure your Tullamore Dew stays horizontal.”
If you’re curious how storytelling translates into real campaigns, take a leap of faith and visit my Portfolio.