Courage, Craft And Conviction: Annette King's Leadership Legacy

This feature was originally intended as a paean to Dame Annette King as she steps back from frontline corporate life after more than two decades at the top of the ad business. So, paean this certainly is.

But in the end it has perhaps also become something more universally significant: a case study of the power of brilliant people to shape, propel and enliven our industry – a power that seems both urgent and necessary as AI marches on.

As brilliant – and industry-defining - ad people go, Dame Annette is up there: the girl from the wrong-ish side of the tracks (Swindon) who gritted her way to agency-then country-then global leadership and became, along the way, one of the industry’s true characters. Oh and she became a Dame too, for services to advertising; Swindon is very proud.

Her achievements are writ large in the advertising annals: she built Ogilvy One into an absolute powerhouse, then ran Ogilvy with fearless conviction and a devotional love for the agency, went on to establish the mighty power of Publicis Groupe in the UK, and then stood alongside iconic creative leader David Droga as the global lead for the marketing practice at Accenture Song. She’s been chair of the Advertising Association, a member of the UK Investment Council, sits on the board of Channel 4 and chairs its remuneration committee, and is a mentor to many of those coming up behind her. And while she’s not jumping on planes every week any more, she’s not standing still any time soon.

Ask anyone who knows her well in this business and you’ll be told that King is “loyal”, “a phenomenal leader”, “a player”, “a brilliant connector”, “a fighter”, “a winner”. You will also frequently hear she’s “great, great fun”, “a true friend”, “a rock”. And yes, “scary”, “demanding”, “fierce”, “unflinching”; King can be steely when she needs to be, and her love for the chase—the pitch, the promise, the win—is one of her defining qualities. Over the years, she’s become known for building unstoppable new business momentum - she brings strategy, conviction, and theatre, and crucially she brings people along with her.

And if leadership is sometimes painted as charisma and clarity from the front, King never shies from its more nuanced truth: the grind behind the strategy. The mess behind the momentum. And the sheer human effort it takes to, for example, turn 28 very different Publicis businesses into a coherent functioning force. King is not perfect by any measure, but it’s the mix of vulnerability, resilience, warmth and resolve - underpinned by one of the shrewdest business brains you'll find in advertising - that defines her leadership style. Whether she’s standing up in a pitch or staring down a business crisis, the strategy’s the same: don’t act the part. Be human. Tell the story.

Everyone has an Annette story, even if it’s second hand – everything from a moment of real pitch magic, to a challenging decision made with conviction, to an act of genuine emotional support when it most mattered, or the lowdown on a raucous night out. And full disclosure before we go any further: she’s also someone I’ve come to love and respect; those who are always looking for the negs must search elsewhere.

King is genuinely one of those leaders that have helped define the industry for a generation. Her triumphs have lifted those around her and many of today's industry's leaders have flourished under her watch. Her network is superb; if you need a connection with someone, she can invariably oil the match. Her friendships span colleagues, clients, journalists and competitors, but her old Swindon school friends are her (mischievous) sanctuary. And the wisdom of her experience will continue to shape how good works gets done by good people in this business for a long time yet.

In that spirit, and at a time when all everyone wants to talk about is AI, we’re here to celebrate the role played by a brilliant woman (and by extension, brilliant people) in building the industry and to share some of her wisdom and advice.

Creative Salon: I know you’re a proud Swindoner but let’s be honest, you’ve come a long way from your roots to Damehood. And there’s a fearlessness, a resilience, a kind of determination that’s propelled you. I wonder where that came from. Was it always in you?

Annette King: I think it’s partly innate, it has to be. But it also came from realising, quite early on, that I wanted to prove something, mostly to myself. I was determined to be successful, and for me, that meant working hard and standing out. I knew I wanted to go to university (first in my family), to live in London, to build a career, ideally in advertising. And then I graduated in a year when there were no jobs, and I learned that I’d have to fight quite relentlessly to make it happen, which I did. It was hard at the time, but probably quite helpful grounding for succeeding in this industry.

I always worked and tried really hard. From my first Saturday job selling fruit and veg aged 14, I put the effort in. So when I got into this business, I spent a lot of time, with my team, learning about and trying to perfect how to win; whether that was trying to win a pitch, being named agency of the year, winning in Cannes or, most importantly, winning with the agency or agencies I was responsible for, getting them behind the plan, and making it happen with them. Swindon isn’t the most dazzling place to grow up but I loved it. I’m very glad that that is where I’m from. It helped me to hit the work world ready for it. And, if you want to start your career having a clue about the way human beings live their lives, choose brands, buy things, Swindon isn’t a bad place to come from. All of my mates from home have done really well. Builders, property developers, fashion gurus, retailers, business owners, financial services leaders – we’ve got it covered. I was lucky to grow up with that crowd and am convinced that we all helped each other be successful through our confidence and belief. Now many of them are living in some of the villages near Swindon that the out-of-towners call the Cotswolds… Please note: If you have an SN postcode, you live in Swindon!

Without getting into cod psychology, it seems like you’ve got this remarkable ability to compartmentalise — to park things when they don’t serve you, and come back to them on your own terms.

Yes, I think you have to be able to do that in this business, and I’m glad that I was able to get good at it. And it’s been particularly useful in the last couple of years with my most recent health experiences. Think about something when you need to; don’t when you don’t. Easy to say, harder to do. But bloody helpful if you can. In this business, things go horribly wrong and wonderfully right every day. You hope that the right things are big and the wrong things are small, but it rarely works like that. You can’t get consumed by what went wrong. You can get consumed by the fix. Or the learning. Or the vow to never do that again. So yes, I do compartmentalise. It’s essential, or I’d have gone mad years ago.

If someone were listening in, they might think you’re not a particularly emotional person. But I know that you are.

If anyone thinks that, then they haven’t met me! Hopefully, I’m a good blend—able to deal with it all but also to usually find a way to laugh through it. Paul O’Donnell – my Ogilvy boss of 17 years taught me that. I’d go into his office with my hair on fire in the early days, and I’d come out laughing. I took that with me and tried really hard to make it part of my way of being, too. Also, “emotional” often gets misused and misappropriated, but to me, it just means being human. I care deeply about people, culture, relationships, the work, winning, having fun, and being fair. Amy Rubenstein, my beloved boss in the New York years, was this tough, clever, kind New Yorker who could handle any situation or any person—but she once told me that she cried at Andrex commercials... I’ve taken that with me too. So yes, I’m emotional and glad to be. I rate myself quite highly on EQ. I can read a room, or a company mood, and usually know how to respond, especially when things aren’t easy. You can only fight your way out of tough situations if everyone feels okay, is hopeful, and can see that there is a plan.

In the spirit of passing on wisdom, how do you instil that kind of resilience in other people?

I always share the belief that you can do anything in this business. One of the things I learned from Arthur (Sadoun, chairman and CEO of Publicis Groupe) was that as long as the chance of winning is above zero, you can win. He’d probably take zero and still give it a go, though. The worst things in this business are losing an account or not winning a pitch. It’s horrible. You and the team have given up weekends, poured your heart into it, and then the client walks away, chooses someone else. The only way to handle it is to let yourself briefly wallow and then develop a plan. I tell everyone to take 24 hours. Be sad, be angry, whatever. But then come back fighting. That’s the only way. Come back with, that’s never happening again, here’s how we’ll learn from it to win the next one, we’ll get it back in three years when it comes up for review again, or maybe let’s get to their biggest competitor with our great idea. If you stick around in this industry long enough, you get a few shots at the really big accounts. And winning something back? There’s nothing like it.

You have stuck around for a long time. And won and won. Can we rewind to when you were just becoming a leader — was there a moment you knew you’d be good at it?

The most vivid moment was being made CEO of OgilvyOne UK in 2008 while I was on maternity leave. It was my first CEO role. I came back to work in November 2008, and the world had fallen apart. The financial crisis had hit. I was informed on day one by my brilliant CFO, John Cornwell (now part of the new Ace of Hearts team) that we had to save several million pounds in staff costs. It was a tough gig for a new CEO, but I had to deal with it. I decided that moving fast, being fair, communicating very clearly and often, and having a plan for what's next were key. And that’s what we did. We started at the top. Almost no one below an account director left. A lot of senior people did, many of them my peers. That was hard, but then we kept an eye out for everyone we let go. Every month, we reported on how many had found new jobs, until they all had. You can call it emotional, or you can call it human. It was very, very Ogilvy at the time. I didn’t know David [Ogilvy], but I remember being very conscious that he probably would have agreed with the way we dealt with a horrible situation. We had this great mantra for the situation - thank you, Jez Groom - which was: “You have to find the bottom so that you can bounce”. It gave people structure and belief, and it worked. Agency of the Year back to back to back after that. We did the same at Publicis Groupe UK when COVID hit. And it worked again. If anyone reading this takes nothing else out of this piece, I would recommend borrowing the “Find the bottom and bounce as fast as possible” mantra.

Let’s talk more about that headcount issue and cost savings. We’re in another one of those grim industry phases where many leaders are facing similar pressures. From what you’ve said, it sounds like you tackled things early. I’ve heard CEOs take very different approaches — “hold on and hope” versus “cut early and hard”. What would your advice be?

First of all, hope is not a strategy; it's indecision. But I think you have to be considered. You need to think carefully about the situation - listen to your team, get external views if needed- and then go with your gut. Trust your instincts. And it’s almost always better to go early when you know that times are tough. It’s like when COVID first hit. We looked at what could happen next. Client spend was going to stall, at least for a while. No one could predict by how much exactly, but we worked out a worst-case scenario and started planning immediately. We focused on costs — not just headcount again — and by June, we’d done what we needed to do. That’s quick, especially in the UK, where there are appropriate legal protections around redundancy. And then we bounced. And once again, we had a great team. But there was also a degree of instinct as well as strategy. The key thing with right-sizing like that is to try to do it in one go. When you keep going back, that’s catastrophic. It ruins morale, kills motivation, and destroys trust. And there’s too much of it going on right now from what I can see. We’re a people business. If your people don’t feel secure, if they think they might be next week’s bad news, you’re properly screwed. That’s not leadership. And frankly, it’s not a good way to live either.

I always picture you with your sleeves rolled up, right in the thick of things and scrapping for the win. What have been your winning tactics?

I think it starts with the basic truth that people buy people. That’s especially true in our industry. This is a creative, in the broadest sense, business; ideas, media, technology, strategy, whatever, it’s emotional. It’s raw. It’s about connection. You have to keep that in mind the whole way through: when you write the deck, decide how you’re actually going to use AI, decide who’s in the room, figure out the story, how you open, what you promise, how you close. You have to see it through the clients’ eyes.

Clients come in all flavours; lovely, difficult, brilliant, not so much. But when it feels hard to win, that’s when you try harder, or at least I do. On reflection, my various teams were at our best when we were outsiders. But sometimes the right answer is: don’t bother. If the barriers are too high or it’s just not right, don’t waste the team’s energy. But if the obstacles are surmountable? That’s where the magic happens.

That’s where the magic happens. I remember the start of a Bupa pitch process at OgilvyOne with the lovely Angus Crowther, who I worked with for years (at Oystercatchers at the time). We got on the list, just about. Angus said, “There are eight slots, and you’re in the eighth. Grudgingly.” She [the client who is now a dear friend] didn’t like the agency for some reason. We knew we weren’t going to win unless we did something a bit mad, a bit different. So we all told stories about why we wanted to win as people, vs agency employees. Vulnerability, served up well and truly, invites connection. Mine was that Bupa saved my life. After my mum died of a brain aneurysm, I got checked on the recommendation of a Bupa GP after an annual health check, and they found that I had one too. Yes, more health drama! I had it dealt with, but it was a big deal, and I really did owe Bupa (and the doctors who fixed me) my life. At the end of the pitch, when we won, the client said, “You had me at brain aneurysm.” It sounds glib, but that’s what happened. We did great work, of course, but the way we acted as people was a massive part of winning that pitch.

I love that. I hope that still holds true — even in this tech-heavy, AI-driven world.

It does. Complexity and possibility has multiplied exponentially, yes, but this industry has always adapted well to how technology changes and improves our world, and what we’re seeing now is huge. It clearly hasn’t settled yet, and no one really knows where it will land. Applying technology at scale in marketing is complicated. There are some brilliant case studies. Accenture Song has many. But how the week-to-week, quarter-to-quarter client and agency world will work is still in flux. So, yes, it’s a time of uncertainty. But also one of excitement. There is so much potential. So many “what ifs”. Clients feel it too. Their jobs have become more complex. More metrics. More scrutiny. More pressure. More decisions they perhaps don’t exactly know how to make.

But none of that changes the fact that clients still want to trust the team in front of them. That’s still everything. It comes down to belief, partnership, and the value exchange. That hasn’t changed. It’s just the landscape that we all live in that has.

And if Bupa was a pitch full of personal stakes and earned connections, then winning BA back for Ogilvy from BBH was the comeback story. A saga of grit, loss, and relentless determination that your reputation for never walking away from a challenge. Was it the most satisfying new business moment of your career?

Without question. I’ve worked with BA three times at two different agencies. Winning it the first time was incredible. We did brilliant work together. It was a strong, happy relationship. Losing it to BBH really, really hurt. But deciding to win it back was… mad and wonderful. Empowering, but bonkers. The hardest, most relentless work I’ve ever done, but it was ultimately successful. People thought I was crazy. I channelled all the sadness and frustration into that goal. It took three years, which was BA’s procurement cycle. But we didn’t just win back what we’d lost. We won everything.

Are there any tricks you deployed to win them back that you can pass on?

Absolutely. After they left Ogilvy for BBH, we sent them a beautiful book of all the work we’d done. Then we created a bi-monthly newsletter, called ‘On Your Radar’, with ideas, work, inspiration, things to make them smile – mostly from Rory [Sutherland]. We also had a war room wall with an old-school contact strategy that we lived by religiously.

Shelley Lazarus, global CEO of Ogilvy at the time, taught me that: if you’ve still got a key card to get into the clients’ building, there’s still a chance. You just need to walk the corridors. That’s harder now, but the principle holds. Two years in, we won back the social scope and got our key cards back. We were back in the building. We did great work, proved ourselves again, challenged their marketing and agency setup, agitated for a pitch, and when it came, we won it all. So yes, I believe in determination. Whether you’re born with it or decide to have it, it’s essential.

Where does that kind of grit come from?

It’s emotional, personal. It’s about responsibility. It’s about having a great client relationship, a brilliant team. It means jobs. It means momentum. And in this wonderfully competitive business, you’ve got to be stronger than the competition. Even if you’re friends, which I am with many people in this industry, if we’re pitching against each other, I’ll do everything to beat them. And they’ll do the same to me. It’s healthy competition—and it’s what fuels the win. Competitiveness can get misunderstood but I think it’s super healthy if channelled in the right way. It’s how you grow. How you get to Agency of the Year. How you get your team the best bonuses you can. If you’re not competitive, this isn’t the business for you.

It sounds almost militaristic, the way you approach a challenge.

Yes. Someone needs to make the decisions but always with a super tight, small team of brilliant thinkers, doers, and inspirers who are with you. You have to march your way through this business together, focused on the end game. All the successful agencies and leaders have done this in their own individual ways. It rarely happens by accident.

How much of doing that job brilliantly is instinct, and how much is experience?

It’s both. Instinct is essential. I’m not sure you can do it over time if you don’t have instinct, but the beauty of this industry is that you can also learn every day if you’re not an arse. Then it’s about being clear, true, consistent, and confident. However many people work for you need to believe that you have a good plan, that they understand, that is being delivered upon, and that they are part of. They need that backbone in order to do their best jobs, and if they do their best jobs, the company that you run is more likely to perform well.

All companies are different, but the same rules apply. My last role at Accenture Song was very different from Publicis, and Publicis was different from Ogilvy, but they’re all people businesses. You learn to spot patterns. You catch problems you’ve seen before, you apply learnings you developed from before, and you know what worked. I’ve been lucky. I’ve had great people around me. And I’ve been able to help and support others to become great leaders. They know who they are so I won’t embarrass them with shout-outs here.

At the end of the day, though, real leadership is about having a super clear plan and helping others thrive in delivering that plan. That’s the job. Not doing it for them. Not chasing the glory. Giving them what they need, letting them be brilliant, helping when they wobble. That’s leadership.

And do you have any advice for people trying to manage upwards effectively?

Yes. First, bother to communicate. That might sound obvious, but a lot of people don’t. They think, “I’ll just crack on. I don’t want to trouble them.” But actually, you really should.

Honestly, I don’t know how you can run a business well without a relationship with the people who make the ultimate decisions. Most recently at Accenture Song, it was my responsibility to work closely with David and Sean Lyons. It was a rewarding, fun, successful working relationship and I loved working with them even though it wasn’t for as long as I’d have liked.

So don’t avoid it. Build those relationships. You’ll be able to be better at running your business if you do.

You’re known for being incredibly connected—amazing at keeping in touch with people, even after accounts move on or jobs change. It’s not transactional, it’s very human. Has that been a conscious focus throughout your career?

It helps if you genuinely like people. And I do—even the tricky ones. Especially the tricky ones, sometimes. Because once you win their trust, it’s even more rewarding. I get energy from helping people. Not in a saintly way—just in a human one. I don’t do it expecting anything in return, but the byproduct is people are often helpful in return. Sometimes helping is just having a coffee and letting someone offload. Other times it’s suggesting a contact, or helping someone prep for an interview. I’ve always believed that just because someone moves on - whether it’s a job change, promotion, or even losing an account—it doesn’t mean you suddenly stop knowing them. That feels more transactional to me than staying in touch. And even now, I’ve got lunches next week with two ex-clients who haven’t been my clients for years. They’re non-execs in interesting places now. And we’re still connected. We’re friends.

I get a lot from helping if I can. And often it takes very little time. Sometimes 10 minutes can change someone’s confidence, or shift their day.

When you look back, do you have any regrets? Not little ones - big ones?

No. No regrets at all. I wouldn’t change a thing. Some of the most important decisions I made were instinctive. Going to New York, for example. It wasn’t a master plan. I just needed to get away from a bad boyfriend at the time. I asked to go for six months. I was 26, and I’d never been to New York. No one had even met me before I arrived. But I walked into an agency of 500 people and just knew it was right. I stayed for four and a half years. It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made—and I loved New York like a person. I still miss it now every now and again, and I’ve been home for 25 years. I suppose I ran towards something better, even if I didn’t realise it at the time.

Then I came back home after a moment of real clarity. I realised I could either put my roots down properly in New York or I could take everything I’d learned and bring it home. Confidence, scale, thinking beyond the brief - that stuff was more unique back then in London. It gave me an edge. For a while, anyway.

Leaving Ogilvy 17 years later was another instinctive decision. I didn’t agree with the new strategy, and I made that clear. John Seifert, Ogilvy CEO at the time, and I got on well personally, but I didn’t believe that collapsing all the different divisions into one Ogilvy was the right move. I said so. Loudly. For about 18 months. And then I left as I wasn’t being heard.

I’ve always given the same advice: if you don’t like your job or where you work for some reason, try to fix it. But if you can’t, stop complaining and go and do something else. So I really had to take my own advice. And then that summer, Arthur called. We had breakfast, and I joined Publicis Groupe UK as CEO. It was a pretty easy and obvious decision.

And when David [Droga, outgoing CEO of Accenture Song] called five years later, I couldn’t believe it and again I went with my gut. My new role at Accenture Song was five times bigger than anything I’d led before. And there were totally different (better) ways of working. It was global. Highly strategic. Technology genuinely at the heart. And working for my advertising hero. The plans were ambitious. I had to do it. Again, instinctive.

And now? Are you at peace with stepping away?

I am, yes. It wasn’t an easy decision, but when you’ve had a health experience like I’ve had it changes everything. It clarifies what’s really important at that point in time. And happily, I’m old enough to have plenty of people to play with out here in retirement land!

The team at Accenture Song has been brilliant. David, Ndidi [Oteh], and Sean [Lyons] are the best, and I’m sorry to have had to leave them earlier than I would have liked. And then the response when it went public that I was stepping down from the industry was overwhelming. The messages, the memories. The people I didn’t even realise I’d helped. It was very emotional and very human and humbling.

If I hadn’t had the health experience, I’d have kept going. There was more I could have done but I’ve done more than I ever thought I would.

I’m in my mid-50s. I’m lucky. Not everyone gets to step away on their own terms. I don’t take that for granted. And I’m surprisingly okay with it. That’s how I know it was the right call. I’ve always been a strong decision-maker. I don’t dither. I applied that to myself.

So yes, I’m at peace. I’ve loved this industry for nearly all of my 35 years in it. I’ve given it a lot of myself and I’ve got a lot back from it. Some of the best friends in the world, stories to tell and moments to cherish. I’ve proved myself to the girl from Swindon and I’m very happy hand to over to the next batch of brilliant leaders in this crazy, clever, creative business we still call ‘Advertising.’