• by Jack Feuer , May 9, 2007

Here's what I learned as a spring day gave way to twilight on the terrace of the Sunset Tower Hotel, while I pounded Coronas and watched the sky turn orange and purple over L.A.: The kids are alright.

Not particularly indiscreet, mind you, but alright.

I was waiting for a comrade to get off deadline and join me for a brew. I got to the hotel early and parked myself at a table by the pool. Across from me, two stylishly dressed young men, late 20s or early 30s, I'd say, were deep in conversation over drinks. And what I heard gave me hope that advertising may yet survive.

Not particularly thrive, mind you, but survive.

The kid with the crisp white shirt, fabulous shades and dark pants is a rep for a giant outdoor firm. The guy with the navy-blue long-sleeved T, fabulous baseball cap (pointed forward, so you know he wasn't a creative) and stylish tan slacks is a planner or buyer. I couldn't tell which, and he didn't seem to make much of a distinction--for a giant media agency. (I knew where they worked by the names they dropped, but telling you would be bad form.)

The children talked about their buddies, their bosses, their deals. The agency guy bragged about a buy he or his colleagues made in Kansas City. The outdoor guy talked about how the business was all about devising win-win scenarios. There was wistful talk about starting up their own shop one day. "We could be the Wieden + Kennedy of outdoor!" said outdoor rep with the kind of relish only somebody who has never run a company could muster.

There was bravado. "I don't think of myself as a planner/buyer. I think of myself as being in business development. I'm a big-picture guy," said agency boy.

This conversation was the most satisfying thing I'd heard that day, even better than the news that Paris Hilton was going to be sharing a shower for 45 days. Because these two guys--these young, on the rise, 21st-century media men--represented something nobody talks about anymore but ought to, because it's real: continuity.

The things they talked about. The words they used. The aspirations and ambitions. The wonkish joy with which they talked shop. Except for the planner/buyer confusion, they could have been any young agency guys, anywhere, at any time in the past 30 years.

If we're lucky, we successfully monetize devilishly quick-changing technology and pick and peck our way through a marketplace as unforgiving as a minefield. We forget, in our frantic rush to grab hold of a whirling world, that there are verities.

No matter how strange this new reality may be, it's still about relationships, about buying and selling, about finding the best possible way to serve your clients. We would be wise to remember, in an upfront that could be revolutionary, that information is currency, not destiny. Technology is a tool, not an antagonist. And change is a condition, not a sentence.

And, maybe most importantly, that the media business remains an exciting and fulfilling one that still draws bright young talent.

Not particularly many, mind you, but enough.