Opinion: My life as a Clios judge

Marcee Ruby, vice-president, co-creative director at J. Walter Thompson, in Toronto, was compelled to accept the offer of judging the 1995 Clio awards held recently in San Francisco. The following is her summary of that event.

What do you say when someone calls and asks you to judge an awards show?

You ask where they are being held. If the answer is San Francisco, you say, ‘Yes.’ Which is exactly how I came to serve on the 1995 Clio Awards jury.

I was immediately swept away with thoughts of Ghiradelli chocolate, Napa Valley vineyards and cable cars until it dawned on me that my trip to San Francisco would be more like a stay in Alcatraz.

I had committed myself to sitting in a dark hotel conference room for four solid days. And nights, if necessary.

At least I would be in good company. Holed up with 19 other inmates from 16 countries. I now know how to say ‘I’m not making the logo bigger’ in 10 languages.

I also learned a few other valuable lessons on how to survive the rigors of jury duty.

For those of you who will follow in my footsteps and represent the true north strong and free at an international show, I offer my Seven Habits of Highly Effective Judges.

1) Leave your cultural baggage at the door

Divest yourself of everything you know about the crtc, hpb, caf and the lcbo.

You will be bombarded with nudity, heresy, profanity, chauvinism and, horror of horrors, cigarette commercials. Once you get over the fact that you could never run half the stuff in this country, just sit back and eat your heart out.

2) Eat, drink and be in bed by 10 o’clock

Who would think you’d have to be in top physical form to sit in a chair for four days.

But it takes a lot of stamina to stay awake through 1,000 television spots, 1,000 print ads and eight hours of radio commercials (among them, a number of car dealerships.)

Thankfully, Jim Smyth, the self-effacing custodian of the Clios, had the foresight to create the ‘X’ vote to cover conflicts, trips to the washroom and catnaps.

3) Cultivate nonchalance

At an international show such as the Clios, you’ll rub brandy snifters with some of the industry’s glitterati.

These guys seem to spend their lives jet-setting around the world in first class. When a reunion dinner in Cannes is proposed, look blase, and tell them you can’t make it – the damned executive board wants you to make a speech in Rio that week.

4) Hold your peace

Unlike a lot of Canadian shows, all voting is done by secret ballot and in utter silence.

This is absolute torture for a bunch of extroverted loudmouths with healthy egos. A good argument is mother’s milk to a creative person, but, let’s face it, if they wanted a single point of view to override the group, they wouldn’t have to feed and water 20 judges.

5) Laugh at anything Scandinavian

If it comes from the land of herring, saunas and knock-down furniture, chances are it’s funny. It seems the colder the climate, the hotter the creative.

6) Discretion is the better part of judging

When you’re in the print gallery, don’t loiter around your own work, oohing and aahing in the hope of influencing the other judges.

Nor should you complain to the chairman that your ad was hung too low to get a fair showing.

And, whatever you do, never blurt out during the television reels that you must abstain from judging this remarkable piece of creativity due to a conflict of interest. Mark your ‘X’ quietly and leave the fate of your ad in the lap of the gods.

7) Take copious notes

Carry a journal and write down every observation and revelation that strikes you.

This will make the other judges take you seriously. It will also ensure that when Patrick Allossery of Strategy calls and asks you for 750 words on what it’s like to be a Clio judge, you’ll be prepared. Unlike me.