Name: Steve Harrison Job: Managing partner and creative director, Harrison Troughton Wunderman Professional mission: Find out what's keeping our clients awake at night - and help them with it Personal mantra: Matthew 6 and 7 but, as anyone will tell you, I'm a very long way off
4.00am Suddenly wide awake. It's been seven years now and this is getting less frequent all the time. However, if you've ever had your name on the door of a business, you'll know the loneliness of the hour before dawn.
6.00am Finally fall asleep.
6.05am Morag's alarm goes off. She's the brand and acquisition manager at M&G and those folks in the City start their working days long before we do.
9.15am Get into work. When you're running the show, it tends to run you. Sometimes it starts before I get to my office door. A signature is needed on artwork, a brief needs approving immediately. Thereafter, there's a big idea needed for Rolls-Royce. A journalist needs a press release. A team needs a progress report. A planner needs a few minutes to talk about a proposition. A client needs a reason to run an ad that scares them. The network needs a presentation on how to write a brief. An ad needs a headline. An account director needs to know if this job requires one brief or two. Staff in human resources need to talk about this lunchtime's training session. There's a big idea still needed on Rolls-Royce. And so it goes until home time.
7.00pm Leave work. For seven years, this place has never been less than a secondary thought away. So ideas pop into my head as I'm walking home, having dinner or standing in the shower. It could be an ambient campaign to accompany a direct mail piece; the reorganisation of an account team; a new way to sell a client's product; next year's agency Christmas card or, hopefully, a big idea for Rolls-Royce. Some people may consider this preoccupation to be a curse. I see it as a gift because the best solutions usually present themselves "after hours".
7.00am The only down-time comes when I am sleeping. Some mornings, after Morag's gone, I lie drowsing and, semi-conscious, drift back to my life as a penniless post-graduate. I'm seized by the panic of having little purpose and fewer prospects. Then, with massive relief, I realise how lucky I am to have this life and I thank God for my great good fortune.