Imagine a creative director, pitching this idea inside Sony’s boardroom:
“We’ll release thousands of bright, colorful balls down the streets of San Francisco, bouncing off cars, rooftops, and pavements. The city will transform into a moving rainbow, and we’ll capture the joy, surprise, and magic. Bravia TVs bring color like no other.”
Now picture Cadbury’s conference room:
“We’ll place a gorilla at a drum kit, waiting quietly in close-up shots as the tension builds. Phil Collins’ ‘In the Air Tonight’ plays in the background. Suspense rises with every beat — until the gorilla explodes into the legendary drum solo. It’s the rush of joy that comes with Cadbury chocolate.”
Or Nokia’s boardroom:
“For our next phone, we’ll remove the keypad. And put it on the screen instead.”
Or a meeting to pitch a visual branding approach for Robinhood (a stock trading platform backed by BlackRock and JPMorgan Chase):
“A crucial element of the rebranding is to use vibrant, stylized illustrations inspired by classic storybook etchings. The illustrations convey the adventure, excitement, and emotion of investing — not just the numbers.”
Maybe someone did propose removing the keypad at Nokia — but was quickly shot down. After all, the Nokia keypad was a USP. And someone probably raised an eyebrow at Robinhood’s storybook illustrations — after all, stock brokering is serious business.
USPs. They are the assassins of opportunities to create memorable conversations.
Because if we flip the script, the execs would sound familiar:
Sony: “Highlight the 4K resolution and better speakers. Maybe a slick product video?”
Cadbury: “It doesn’t tell consumers about the 12 new flavours. And what does a gorilla have to do with chocolate?”
Robinhood: “Stock brokering is serious business, not some storybook adventure. Also — highlight low brokerage fees and security protocols.”
And yet — Sony, Cadbury, Robinhood took the chance.
What if Sony had killed the bouncing balls?
What if Cadbury had killed the drumming gorilla?
What if Nokia had actually killed the keypad when it mattered?
What if Robinhood had shied away from playful illustrations?
These ideas sounded ridiculous in the boardroom. They didn’t tick boxes. They didn’t shout USPs. They made executives nervous.
And yet — they became iconic.
Robin Hood Illustrations. https://www.wearecollins.com/work/robinhood/
The typical conversations in any creative or design conference usually meander into client-bitching sessions:
“We had a great idea, but the client killed it. And instead, we did the same old, same old.”
We laugh at the usual requests to include more bullet points (because they were USPs):
- Scientifically tested. (As if skincare could survive without it.)
- Prompt responses. (You won’t survive business otherwise.)
- Professional installation. (Would you actually send a noob?)
- And of course, the dreaded: “Advanced AI technology.”
I’ve been there. That sinking moment when you know you had a strong idea, but across the table someone says:
“How would the customer understand if we don’t say A B C D E F G too?”
The voice in your head whispers: Don’t fight. Take the money. Walk away next time.
The result? The client hires another agency and opens with:
“The previous agency wasn’t aligned with our expectations and wasn’t coming up with creative solutions.”
I recently posted on LinkedIn saying “Looking back: In my career, there have only been about 2.5 clients who fully trusted me to make all the creative calls — while they focused on the broader marketing and branding direction… For clients like these, I gave everything — far beyond the monetary value of the projects.”
One was a multinational paper company that approved ideas like taking over a busy shopping mall concourse on a weekend and staging a fashion show with models wearing clothes made of paper. Totally ignoring the TGs (graphic designers). Absurd on paper, unforgettable in reality.
Another eventually made me a co-founder. That led to Kyoorius — an influential platform that reshaped India’s creative landscape.
Moments like these only happen when someone takes the risk.
But here’s the uncomfortable truth:
Clients aren’t always to blame.
Perhaps years of disappointment have made creatives play safe. Perhaps we stopped showing truly different approaches. Perhaps we got too comfortable following trends, calling it “creative.”
Because too often —
Creatives aren’t fighting.
Creatives are recycling.
Creatives are following trends and calling it new.
Creatives are too quick to blame, too afraid to create.
So yes — clients often kill good ideas.
But maybe we’ve killed more ourselves.
Are creatives truly creative anymore?