Carlos Vazquez

I'm old enough that I used to have one of those old-timey, third-person, narrated-by-the-invisible-man bios. Then again, I'm young enough that I was always slightly embarrassed by it, and finally gave it the heave-ho. Those bios always make people sound like Dale-Carnegied smooth operators that don't sweat or take bathroom breaks.

What am I is a man who's seen—and worked in—a bit of the world. I've ordered breakfast in Korean, annoyed cab drivers in Cantonese, and tried to find my way in Calcutta with directions in Urdu. I'm a Cuban who feels way more at home in Madrid than in Havana. A frustrated pilot and a racing driver that hasn't turned a wheel in anger in 18 years. I enjoy working with smart people doing work that makes a difference. Whether that difference is pro-bono work for an animal shelter to an ad for Velveeta that sells more of the gooey stuff, so that a guy who puts in eight-hour days at the factory in Champaign, Illinois can keep his job and send his kid to college. I like working with bright people with regulation-size egos. I get a great sense of reward from knowing that I made an impression on those I've come in contact with. I guess that's why I love teaching so much; it's nice to know that there are hundreds of copywriters working today that probably hear my voice whenever it occurs to them to end a headline with... an ellipsis. I told them all to feel free, just so long as they were willing stab themselves in the eye three times with an X-Acto knife. That kind of advice sticks, or so I've been told.

I love my wife and daughter, adore my two Chihuahuas, and have a weakness for spy thrillers. I believe that Monday morning is something that I should look forward to with anticipation on a Sunday night. I find few things as contemptible as bullies, can't stomach hypocrisy, and hate losing one of my mayorships on Foursquare.

I'm old enough to know there is so much more out there that I don't know, and pray that I never get to the point that I stop trying.