CHAPTER 4
WORK

….Silva Rosa ran the place with a rod of steel. (Probably to make up for his lack of any other kind of rod.)

You did what he said, or else.

Now this was a very strange way of working for me. I had spent thirty years working with and not for account managers and directors, whereby my ideas and suggestions were usually the ones that were deeply considered and usually presented (and without wishing to sound boastful - usually got the business).

In short I had gone from being a well-respected creative director to a well-paid lackey.

The man who had actually interviewed me and signed the contract was a Dutchman, whom I shall call Piet.

Let me explain that I was not being employed as part of a ‘Cunha’. I had no family ties which could make such an elevated plea.

No, this was the hard reality world that I was accustomed to in London. I was being headhunted because I had a fantastic portfolio and C.V.

In that day and age it was unlikely that you would be employed because someone feels sorry for you.

The fact that I spoke no Portuguese was of no concern, especially as most of their clients were multi-national. What they were looking for was someone with ideas.

Piet also made a point of telling me that the reason I was a suitable candidate was that the head office in New York had stipulated that McNaff’s Portugal had to find a heavyweight Creative Director with international experience.

Piet was a great guy and his job was number two to Silva Rosa. We got on great, we lunched together and we drank together.

But there were rumblings and I discovered that Silver Rosa didn’t like some of Piet’s decisions.

Suddenly, one evening Piet called me, crying hysterically over the phone.

"Can we talk?" He wailed.

It seemed that the only place Piet felt safe was the church, so we went there for his confessional.

There was a funeral being conducted at the front of the church and we sat huddled together at the back.

Piet bawled like a baby for the next hour and between the blubs I managed to piece together his story.

The short story was that Piet was married, but was having an affair with one of the ladies at McNaff’s, who was an ex-lover of Silva Rosa and Silva Rosa was very pissed off.

I also realised that Piet had an alcohol problem.

Eventually Piet pulled himself together and decided to go home.

I never saw him again.

I believe he did make an appearance at the agency a few days later with a massive black eye - which he blamed on walking into a door.

I wondered which of the three parties had belted him.

Then he was reported dead...