Let’s get honest. Awards are a scam. They’re not about the work, they’re about the politics, the fees, the networking dinners, the buddy system of juries who all owe each other favours. The best work rarely even makes it to the shortlist, because the best work doesn’t fit the rules. It doesn’t look “award-winning.” It looks dangerous.

Agencies crave awards because they crave status. It’s a hunger left over from childhood, from the humiliation of being overlooked. A trophy is proof you exist. A trophy says, “Look, Mom, I matter.” But here’s the poison: the second you design for awards, you stop designing for people. You stop designing for impact. You design for the jury, for the deck, for the applause in a banquet hall that smells like reheated steak.

Awards don’t sell. Awards don’t build tribes. Awards don’t burn themselves into memory. They live on shelves in offices no one visits, collecting dust while the world forgets. The brands that shaped culture didn’t do it for trophies. They did it because they had something to prove, something to say, something they couldn’t not create.

Legacy isn’t measured in plaques and statues. Legacy is measured in scars. Did your work split the room? Did it make enemies? Did it carve itself into the bloodstream of a generation? If yes, you already won. If not, no trophy can save you.

Trophies are for losers. The ones who matter never waited for permission to play.