Sunday Edition: ADOTAT Unplugged

Well, look who’s sticking around. Apparently, you’re into this—so we’re doubling down. Turns out, I actually enjoy grilling people on-camera and off, and I’ve picked up more than a few things along the way. So, on Sundays, brace yourself for the unfiltered version—personal stories, journeys, and all the stuff you definitely didn’t sign up for but won’t want to miss.

Welcome to ADOTAT Unfiltered—where buzzwords go to die, PR fluff gets roasted, and the only spin is the brutal truth. Expect raw insights, hard-hitting industry realities, and just enough weekend wit to keep your neurons firing.

For less than whatever overpriced, pumpkin-flavored nonsense Starbucks is shilling this season, you’ll get the stuff they don’t want you to know—deep dives, behind-the-scenes scoops, and the kind of no-BS analysis you actually need.

Your Sunday inbox deserves better. Mondays can wait.

The Glorious Middle Finger to Scale: Why “No” is the New Power Play

Let’s start with the uncomfortable truth no one with a Patagonia vest at your favorite Marriott ballroom keynote wants to admit: scale has become the cultish religion of every Silicon Valley bro and MBA-drenched acolyte with a pitch deck hotter than their actual product.

The gospel of “more, bigger, faster” has left us neck-deep in the digital equivalent of a landfill. How many SaaS platforms promising to "disrupt" email/calendar/your dog-walker do we need before someone admits we just made more busywork for ourselves? Somewhere between “frictionless synergy” and “omnichannel stack,” the industry became a parody of itself—like a band that’s been on its farewell tour since the Clinton administration.

Saying “No” Isn’t Weakness—It’s Survival

Here's the thing: saying “no” doesn’t make you the oddball who missed the unicorn IPO party. It makes you the adult in a room full of toddlers smashing Legos together and calling it innovation. “No” is the boundary that protects you from Frankensteining your life or business into some VC’s fever dream.

Let me put it plainly: sometimes the garage startup should’ve stayed in the damn garage—right next to your uncle's cover band that still thinks they’re two gigs away from opening for Springsteen.

Saying “no” means choosing craftsmanship over chaos. Sanity over spreadsheets filled with hockey-stick growth projections. A small, well-run ship doesn’t sink because it’s bloated with ballast labeled “synergies.”

Welcome to the Graveyard of Scale Worshippers

Let’s pour one out for the dearly departed—WeWork, Quibi, Theranos (okay, that one’s more crime drama than business cautionary tale). All victims of the same intoxicating Kool-Aid: scale now, ask questions never.

They all got high on the fumes of "blitzscaling" and crashed headfirst into the reality that growing like a weed often just makes you...a weed. Ubiquitous, annoying, and pulled up the minute someone notices you’re choking out the garden.

But Then There’s the Sane Ones...

Take Basecamp. Love them or hate them, they knew when to cap the madness and keep things human-sized. They’re the indie movie that didn’t sell out for a Marvel sequel paycheck. Or the neighborhood bakery that stayed local instead of becoming another soulless Panera outpost at the strip mall next to a vape shop.

Personally? I’ve had to kill projects that “could’ve been big.” Could’ve gone global. Could’ve made me just another exhausted, resentful exec wondering why my team looks like extras from a dystopian workplace comedy. Walking away was the best yes I’ve ever given myself.

“No” is the Grown-Up Table

In a world begging you to say “yes” to every LinkedIn hustle guru, every souped-up CRM promising to make you the next Bezos—“no” is where the real power sits.

“No” is choosing mastery over mediocrity.
“No” is choosing time over terminal burnout.
“No” is the refusal to let someone else’s panic about market share hijack your life.

You want scale? Fine. But understand that if you can’t draw the line somewhere, you’re just adding seats to a roller coaster that’s missing half its tracks.

So here’s the mic drop:
Scale at all costs? That’s the kids’ menu.
“No”? That’s filet mignon.

The Industry Lens: How Saying “No” Could Save Adtech from Eating Itself Alive

Let’s talk about advertising—the industry where “scale” has long been treated like it’s l’chayim at a wedding, handed out freely and expected to be chugged without a second thought.

For decades, media buyers and holding companies treated “more impressions” like it was a badge of honor. Who needs craftsmanship when you can stuff 10 million impressions into a banner ad slot that lives somewhere between a candy crush app and a dating site no one admits to using?

The Scale Delusion

Here’s where it gets grotesque:
We have an entire sector addicted to cramming square-peg ads into round-hole placements. Programmatic pipes so clogged with junk inventory, it’s like trying to suck a milkshake through a cocktail straw. Yet, we keep hearing the mantra: "Scale fixes everything."

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.
Scale without focus is how we end up with ads showing up next to conspiracy theory videos and snake oil supplements, while brand managers shrug and call it “the cost of doing business.”

Bradley Keefer and the Power of Tiny Giants

Enter Bradley Keefer of Keen and the indie-shop gospel. According to him, the real shakeup isn’t coming from the slow-moving, dinosauric holdcos bloated with redundant teams and overpriced steakhouse dinners. It’s coming from the five-to-ten-person shops—the tech-enabled ninjas wielding tools like Keen to punch way above their weight class.

These micro-agencies are lean, scrappy, and allergic to the nonsense bloat that’s turned the ad industry into a self-parody. They’re saying “no” to legacy inefficiencies, bloated org charts, and “We’ve always done it this way” attitudes.

Keefer’s take is blunt:
The next disruption isn’t another holding company swallowing up a boutique agency—it’s the boutique agency telling the holding company to pound sand, winning deals with agility, tech smarts, and, frankly, a healthier profit margin.

The Indie Advantage

• Small shops aren’t weighed down by procurement departments the size of a Fortune 500.

• They don’t need to pad margins by adding five middlemen between a client and a DSP.

• They move fast, integrate tech that actually works (rather than just sounding impressive at Cannes), and say “no” to bloated RFPs that would make Kafka blush.

The Takeaway

The real play isn’t about more. It’s about better.
Fewer, higher-quality relationships.
Tighter feedback loops.
Ads that aren’t just wallpaper in the endless scroll of doom.

The agencies and brands willing to say “no” to the bloat, the scale obsession, and the Frankenstein tech stacks? They’re the ones winning—silently, efficiently, and with much less aspirin.

So yeah, in an industry still clutching its pearls every time someone whispers “boutique,” it’s the small, sharp operators who are eating the big kids’ lunch—and sending the bill back to the kitchen.

My Year of Saying “No” and What It Taught Me About Focus, Family, and Actually Sleeping

A few years ago, I took a hard look in the mirror—and not just because I needed to check if the kid had drawn on my face with a Sharpie again. I realized that my life had become a buffet of commitments I didn’t even remember ordering. So, I did the unthinkable: I started saying “no.”

No to dating for almost five years while raising my son solo. No to shiny new business ventures when I knew I still had ghosts of old partnerships haunting me. No to the dopamine hit of replying to every email like it was a nuclear code. What I said “yes” to instead? Depth. Meaning. Sleep. (Occasionally uninterrupted, even.)

The Temptation to Say “Yes” to Everything

Let’s face it, we live in a world where we’re expected to RSVP “yes” to every opportunity like we’re at an all-you-can-eat networking brunch. But that insatiable hunger for more—more meetings, more side hustles, more ‘can I pick your brain for a sec?’—comes at a cost.

I used to chase “growth” like it was the last train home. But all it did was rob me of presence. I was there, but not there. A zombie with a to-do list.

The Lesson: “No” as an Act of Curation

Saying no wasn’t just a productivity hack—it became a survival skill. A line in the sand. A silent rebellion against the cult of busy.

“No” guarded my time like an overprotective bouncer outside an exclusive club. It protected my family dinners from being devoured by Slack notifications. It safeguarded my team from burnout. And yes, it protected my blood pressure, which I’m convinced now had a direct Slack-triggered correlation.

What I Learned

Focus and Productivity

With fewer spinning plates, I actually got more done—and did it better. I was able to:

• Put real energy behind the projects and people that matter.

• Make decisions faster, without second-guessing every rabbit hole.

• Finally, write things (like this) without fighting calendar Tetris.

Family Dynamics

Saying no gave me room to be a better parent and human.

• Boundaries became clearer, making space for intentional time with my son.

• I modeled what it looks like to value your time—and hopefully taught him not to be that guy who burns out by 30.

• Plus, we both got to enjoy Sunday mornings without me glued to my phone like a desperate stockbroker.

Sleep and Well-being

Most underrated perk? Sleep.

• My stress levels dipped. So did the late-night anxiety scrolls.

• I got serious about self-care instead of “self-care adjacent” (which is just doomscrolling in sweatpants).

• I remembered what it feels like to actually wake up rested.

The Hardest “No” Scenarios (a.k.a. The Guilt Olympics)

• Professional Requests: Telling a client or colleague, “I can’t take that on right now” when you know the team is stretched thin. Spoiler: The world doesn’t end.

• Networking Events: Skipping those “you have to be there” mixers that feel like speed dating with business cards.

• Family Invitations: Saying no to that third cousin’s baby shower without sparking a full-blown family tribunal.

• Community Volunteering: Politely declining worthy causes when your calendar already looks like a Jenga tower.

How to Say “No” Without Burning Bridges

• Be clear, kind, but unapologetic.

• Offer an alternative if you can—whether it’s rescheduling, referring someone else, or saying “not right now.”

• Remind yourself: every no makes space for a better yes.

Bottom Line

A year of saying “no” didn’t just clear my schedule—it reconnected me to my purpose. It gave me back presence. And yes, it gave me back my sanity.

I’d trade hustle culture for that any day.