The one that doesn't feature Fryday's alter egos

I remember little of my days in advertising.
That is a blessing in many respects, but a hindrance in others. For example, some have said I should write my life story and I am technically capable of doing that. However one needs to first remember that life. And whilst anecdotes can be fun and humanising, particularly if seedy, they are insufficient for a credible biography, unless of course you are Keith Richards and an admiring readership is happy to be simply invited into your world. For me, more is needed. Facts are needed; names, places, events, etc. Not easy when few come to mind and those that do are not often aligned.
I was thinking about this this week, not because I intend to write that book, but because of two events.
The first was my correspondence with a Trade Me trader who asked if I was the same person who worked in Auckland advertising. I confirmed that I was but had to admit that I didn’t know him. We shared CVs in order to solve the mystery of where we met. There was a link, though tenuous. One of the problems was I couldn’t recall which advertising agency I was working for when I bought advertising off my correspondent. Worse he remembered me, but I didn’t remember him. How many others have I forgotten? Enough to fill a book?
The second event was the demise of Dick Smith. I was never associated with Dick Smith Limited. But I did help with the advertising of their (then) major competitor David Read Electronics. Do you remember them? They were well and truly No.2 to Dick Smith in retail electronics. However, like Avis, the fact that we were No.2 made us try harder and for a while we gave Dick Smith a run for their money (when they had some) until David Read could do no more and was eventually swallowed up—by Dick Smith, I think. However, again I cannot remember which agency I was working for, any of the personnel involved and even when it was.
So, the residue of my life in Auckland advertising from 1973 to 1995 today consists only of a possibly intriguing and frustratingly enticing series of snippets—nothing substantive. In some ways I am happy about that. I can immediately think of three:
1. I am relieved of the presumption that anybody is interested in my life in advertising.
2. There are things in that life I am glad to have forgotten and certainly don’t want resurrected now.
3. I have fun with the curious, but not entirely accurate, epigram: “if you can remember (the 60s) you weren’t there.”
I was there—in the 70s, 80s 90s. In advertising. In Auckland. Having fun. 
And if that is all I can remember, so be it.
It is enough.