<sup>Can we erase our history?
Is it as easy as this?
Plausible deniability
I swear I've never heard of it
And I can close the door on us
But the room still exists
And I know you're in it

Hours of phrases I've memorised
Thousands of lines on the page
All of my notes in a desolate pile
I haven't touched in an age
And I can burn the evidence
But I can't burn the pain
And I can't forget it</sup>

^{Expert in a Dying Field, The Beths}

How do you know, or when do you know, when to leave something behind? What will endure? What will stay there, trapped like a crinkly tub of hummus you couldn’t bring yourself to finish and is too disgusting to throw away?

Beyond a somewhat obvious food or relationship metaphor <insert use by date pun here>, it is actually quite a difficult question to answer. When is something done with, to be moved on from?

Or, flipped on its head, what will endure? What is timeless? What will not date? How might you re-engineer what you know now to make sure it’s seen as valuable in the future?

I’m interested in this in part because I spent quite a lot of time (you could almost say most of my life, given my father worked in it too) to advertising and communications. I spent 15 years at the coalface, working in all kinds of agency - from the big to small, good to bad, ‘hot shop’ to bargain basement.

I now work at a very large management consultancy, and though it involved a lot of interviews (8!), they approached me. I’m not someone who has ‘the map’ for ex agency people, more someone who opened the most interesting door he could find at the time.

Thinking broadly about it, I think there’s three groupings of history which are worth thinking about as you navigate a career.

Primary skills. Whether it’s something you’ve spent a long time doing, refining etc, these are both soft and hard skills which you’ll take with you until you retire. Examples could be a fluency in storytelling; an ability to manage people (and have people want to catch up with you after you’ve left, the ultimate signifier, versus people not wanting to give you the time of day once you’re not in a position of power!); an ability to present. All of those, I think, can come from a career in communications, and all of them can be taken forward into whatever you want to do.

Secondary skills are where it becomes interesting. In the wonderful world of communications strategy, you can end up knowing an obsessively large amount about some very niche subjects; horse-feed, the make up of turbo engines, the ideal set up for a trade show on Risk. Some of these you will never, ever need again. But then, much like beginning at Saatchis in 2006, I still surprise myself with knowledge of gondola ends, and FSDUs. Yes, it’s the unsexiest bit of communications, but it’s very much what large, big-box retailers are interested in.

Another sort of skill within the secondary bracket is when you start doing more of things that you didn’t anticipate doing, have a talent for, and very much enjoy. For me, that’s teaching. I enjoy helping people get better at storytelling, writing cogently/impactfully, and just being a coach to those who feel they want to beef up their communications (either personal or for a campaign). For these kinds of skill, it’s worth keeping an open mind. You never know how your tastes will change over time - mid 20s Will versus early 40s Will has a very different view about teaching - I feel i’ve both more to contribute and am less self centred, let’s be honest!

The last grouping of skills, tertiary skills, are those which you can potentially turn off (or on) forever. This could be politicking at a particular workplace, managing a difficult boss, or client. When you leave that role, you might never need to use that again. For me, there was a lot more of an unpleasant, bullying undertone to the advertising industry when I first joined, and a lot of the day to day became about managing that situation. Perhaps it’s a function of getting older, and priorities changing, but not having to deal with extreme politics is something I’m grateful to cast off into the bin. That’s not to say this sort of thing will never come back, but as communications is a career on fast-forward, being in your 40’s qualifies you for elder statesman status. In short, you don’t have to put up with half of the bullshit you might’ve when you were 22-23.

Separate to skills, there’s also the ability to critically audit an industry, and to see the signal for the noise. Though I did a very broad degree (hello, English Literature) the thinking of mine was to learn core skills which would never really be erased. And, even given the rise of new technologies which are the flavour of the month/year, an ability to think critically and shape good problems will not change, and one of the best places to learn about them, and the variety of businesses which house them - is in communications.

Similarly, it’s remarkably easy to decry a field as ‘dying’ because it suits a narrative. It is changing, but brands will still need to stand out - arguably with more of a emphasis on in person activity and search behaviours - but an understanding of people’s laziness and a belief in the power of distinct communications to cut through - if you understand people’s buying behaviours well - will endure. It will not die, and to claim otherwise is unhelpful blether, brought to you by a tech provider or three that wants you to use their services.

All of that said - it’s worth stopping to consider what might be diminishing in your own life, both personally and professionally, and how that might shape your next few steps. To bring this back to the central image, Mr Douglas Adams’ views are central to how I see things: “I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be”.

We went to Belfast as a family over the weekend. It’s good; you should go. Ideally whilst listening to this. Have a wonderful Easter break.