Television. Print. Radio. Maybe websites, if we were feeling futuristic.
We certainly wouldn't have predicted algorithms, influencers, creators, AI - or that people would spend more time watching strangers organise their fridges than prime-time television.
The truth is, we had no idea.
Then again, nobody did.
What we did know was that we wanted to build an agency. Not the biggest. Just one that clients genuinely enjoyed working with, where talented people could do the best work of their careers.
So, in 2005, we started Promise with no clients, no start-up capital and two computers we couldn't really afford: a state-of-the-art transparent "jelly Mac" with a front-loading CD drive, and a PC that took seven minutes to boot up, facing each other across our dining-room table.
We assumed clients would arrive shortly after we'd announced ourselves to the world.
It was remarkable how thoroughly they failed to do so.
So we started guessing the email addresses of CEOs at some of South Africa's largest companies, promising each of them we had an idea worth discussing.
One replied.
His brief?
Brand a coffee mug.
We threw everything we had at that mug. The next day, he handed us the entire account. It was modest, but a good start.
That first brief taught us something we've never forgotten: there are no small opportunities. Only opportunities to show someone how much you care.
What followed looked nothing like the business plan we never really had.
There were overdrafts secured against our home. Offices rented just in time for clients to visit. Impossible deadlines. Award nights. Wonderful clients. Challenging clients. And clients who became lifelong partners.
Meanwhile, advertising changed almost beyond recognition.
Channels multiplied. Audiences fragmented. Data transformed decision-making. Technology accelerated everything. AI arrived.
And every few years, somebody confidently announced that the agency model was finished.
Yet one thing remained remarkably stubborn.
People.
People still respond to stories. Still notice generosity. Still reward honesty. Still remember how brands make them feel.
The tools have changed beyond anything we could have imagined in 2005.
Human nature hasn't.
Perhaps that's why, 21 years later, curiosity still feels like our most valuable asset.
Curiosity to ask better questions. Challenge our assumptions. Embrace new technology without forgetting why creativity mattered in the first place. And learn from graduates half our age, while occasionally offering something useful in return.
Along the way, we've received recognition we could scarcely have imagined around that dining-room table: international awards, creative rankings, industry recognition, being named South Africa's highest-rated agency for overall client satisfaction, and recognition as one of the country's best independent agencies to work for.
We're immensely proud of those things.
But we're prouder of the relationships.
The clients who trusted us. The people who've built their careers with us. The colleagues, partners and friends who've helped turn Promise into something far better than we imagined.
Twenty-one years sounds like a long time.
Really, it's simply thousands of ordinary days. Thousands of briefs, conversations and cups of coffee. Thousands of opportunities to care a little more - or a little less.
We've always tried to choose the former.
We have no idea what advertising will look like 21 years from now. If the last two decades have taught us anything, it's to be deeply suspicious of anyone who says they do.
But we know this.
The future will still belong to people who remain curious.
About ideas. Technology. Culture. Clients.
And, above all, people.
Twenty-one years ago, we thought the challenge would be building an agency.
Today we know the real challenge is building one that's still learning.
Fortunately, we're still curious.
