Life on the Other Side: Fiona Lake Trusted Her Gut

Fiona Lake went from working as a planner at agencies like BMF and The Monkeys, to becoming Marketing Manager at triple j. Today she has a broader marketing strategy role for music and youth projects at the ABC. She tells us about how and why she got out of advertising.

It felt like I had worked most public holidays in that last year I worked in advertising, on pitches or projects that often didn’t see the light of day. I was frustrated, burnt out, and over it. It was 2011. We were in the early stages of the biggest disruption to media that advertising had ever dealt with, and I didn’t believe the most impactful decisions and ideas were coming out of agency land. I wanted to get upstream, inside a business that I admired, where I could be involved with all aspects of a brand.

I was also at a point where I knew my partner and I wanted to start a family in the next five years, and I just couldn’t see how I could make it work in agency land.

I couldn’t see how agency culture (where bonding over bevvies most evenings was when the real debriefs happened) would gel with my idea of being a hands-on parent.

I didn’t want to be slinking out at 5pm to go pick up my (very-far-off-in-the-distance-yet-to-be-a-twinkle-in-anyone’s-eye) kid while everyone was slaving away at a brief or heading to the pub. 

I didn’t know any agencies that had paid parental leave policies. And I didn’t trust my own desire to stay in the industry—I didn’t feel passionately enough about the work I was doing to want to fight for it, to rattle the cage, to make the kind of changes I wanted, and expected, from a workplace as I moved into the next stage of my life.

I went back to some career advice I’d been given when I chucked in my first full time job and began a soul search to work out what I was after: to think less about the job itself, and more about the other aspects of the job. 

What are your values? What motivates you to show up to work each day? Include everything, even if it seems trivial. Do you want to be able to see the outside from your desk? Do you expect perks like lunch or snacks to be provided? Is not being able to wear thongs to work a deal breaker? (In regard to the latter, my answer was yes. That in itself was a pretty big clue that I wasn’t cut out for the shoulder pads of corporate lyf.)

I wasn’t fooling myself into believing that leaving a job in ‘one of the least trusted industries’ was going to necessarily lead me to the good life. I had friends who worked for not-for-profits, and at the end of the day it was still a job, with all the politics and 9 to 5 grind that a job entails. I didn’t know what that next step was, and I felt like stepping away from advertising was denying myself the chance to be creative. 

But in the end my mental health made the decision for me, and before I had the answer I reached breaking point and resigned. I didn’t know what was next, but I knew I needed to follow my gut and force the change I so badly craved.  

My friends know I’m not a ‘dream-believe-succeed-put-it-on-your-vision-board-and-it-will-come-true’ type of person. My default mode is cynical. But I do believe on some level in putting things out into the universe and seeing what comes back. (In fact I may use the phrase ‘good vibes’ in a professional capacity somewhat excessively). My cynical-faith paid off: after giving notice at work, I saw my dream job advertised: triple j were seeking a marketing manager. The chance to work for a radio station I had grown up with and loved suddenly felt like a possibility.

To this day I still don’t know how I fluked my way into the job when I didn’t have music industry or marketing background, but I knew I immediately got on with my manager.

It was one of those interviews that was about sharing ideas and perspectives, rather than being grilled, and somehow I pulled it off forever be indebted to him for trusting that although on paper I didn’t tick all the boxes, I was the right fit.

The job was—in agency terms—part account manager, part planner and part creative, all rolled into one. The best bit was I wasn’t leaving any of the creative side behind. In fact, because content is being pumped out every single day in radio, it’s like coming up with creative ideas, on steroids.

There isn’t the luxury (or the torture) of spending 18 months on a campaign before it sees the light of day (or doesn’t).

In fact it can be a challenge to get people to think one year ahead instead of one week ahead, so that really good ideas are given the time to be developed properly. 

Often ideas are formed by one or two people, and (working as we do for a public broadcaster that runs on the smell of an oily rag) we’re lucky to get a handful of people to help bring it to life. But we work in a small team that isn’t subject to the whims of clients, so we built trust in each other, knowing that if we want to do something, they’ll help make it happen.

In my time at triple j, I have been lucky enough to work on campaigns like the Hottest 100 annual countdowns, live broadcasts from Splendour In The Grass, and the launch of triple j’s new ‘older sister’ radio station Double J. I also made a start on that other project and now have two daughters (soon to be joined by a third), which has officially tipped me well and truly out of triple j’s demo. I now work in a broader marketing strategy role for music and youth projects at the ABC, and can’t believe how lucky I am to have trusted my gut all those years ago.