I walk into the New York Times. The hallway in the lobby is hung with a million small screens, changing constantly, clicking away like a typing pool. I take the elevator to the 44th floor. Up here I can see the entire city. Traffic is backed up on 30-somethingth street.

I meet with Nathaniel Whitten, a guy who ran his own ad shop for 10 years, with more than 20 years in the game. It becomes clear that I'm here less to interview for a job and more to see if I can handle being his partner. Nat reminds me of the NBA coach Phil Jackson: A jumble of untouchable experience, true, pure creative brilliance, and a zen philosophy barely keeping his passion in check. I can tell I'm the latest of a long line of partners that couldn't match up, maybe? with him? Luckily for both of us, I've spent my whole life in New York and he's just the latest in a long line of very intense people I've met. I kinda get him. And besides, I’m sure his outward philosophy prevents him from carrying a weapon.

So of course, it turns out we work well together. He likes how I fight, I like how he fights, and our Account Director Kevin Nabipour keeps it all working smoothly. It's a nice balance and our personalities fortuitously epitomize the campaign the Times’ wants to develop: The three of us often debate music, art, and politics at length in the middle of reviews. We cite sources in our arguments, we revel in each new dimension added to the discussion. We take those debates and we think about what it means to truly understand a story. We create a campaign about dialogue, opinion, truth and every element that people look for when the abridged version of the "news" won't cut it.

If you’ve read this far, then you just might enjoy the most wonderfully stream of consciousness ads I’ve ever made.