It was a typical winter's day in Houston, with seventy-degree drizzle oozing down on the greased freeways, making them slicker than deer guts on a doorknob. The sound of nearby collisions was slightly audible as Chris Hill and I hunkered down in a Thai restaurant on Kirby, gobbling Phat See Mee and discussing his career.

"Why in God's name do you like this town?" I grumbled.

"Houston is a very misunderstood city, I think," he replied." The cost of living is low, it's culturally very alive and very metropolitan. Plus, it's geographically perfect for me. I can get to any part of the United States easily from here. From the international airport I can go to pretty much anywhere quickly, especially Mexico.

For Chris, this is important. Over the last decade his client base has become increasingly international, ranging from Dentsu and Fujitsu to Saudi Aramco and Monterrey Tech University. Even local clients such as Hines Interests have involved him in projects around the globe. I suspect his passport must resemble my old stamp collection.

"So how did you get all these international contacts anyway?" I asked.

"Mostly by being nice." Chris smiled and then paused to let it sink in. " I know it sounds simple, but I was raised to treat other people like you want to be treated. For what it's worth, just trying to be genuinely nice to everyone I meet has really worked for me, or at least it seems to have. I've never actually promoted myself, so virtually all my clients have come by referrals from people I've met or worked with in the business. For instance, a photographer friend of mine was skiing and met a person who needed a designer to work on a project. That ultimately led to some great projects for Michael Douglas and Kim Basinger. It's basically having people feel comfortable with you. It's the same with Dentsu. They were interviewing designers from around the world, but I simply hit it off with George Tanaka [deputy director of Dentu's corporate communications services]. It was like we were old friends from the start. And the same thing happened again in Mexico."

I know Chris to be nice guy, but I was beginning to fear this was going to turn into a positive thinking seminar or worse, something religious. " All right, Chris, granting you're the most wonderful person in the world, still, most people want to see some work."

"Listen, the quality of your work may get someone interested, but there are lots of people who have great work. The difference is whether or not new clients feel comfortable with you. There has to be a comfort zone created by something, and often that is purely personal. Sometimes it's something else entirely. With Aramco, for example, I think it was somewhat due to my age. They felt more comfortable with me because I was mature enough and had worked in all these different markets."

I was beginning to grow insecure. I'm mature. Too mature in my opinion. And I always thought I was a really a nice guy, even when I was getting those hate notes. We were clearly due for a change of subject and location, and quickly left the restaurant.

Hill/ A Marketing Design Group, Inc. shares a small, tasteful building with an art gallery, occupying the upper floor. The interior, while filled with the inevitable collections and awards, was interestingly laid out and had enough fine art around to let the casual observer know it wasn't a bail bonding service.

"What do you believe is the greatest responsibility of a designer?" I asked, once we were comfortably seated.

"The greatest responsibility is the responsibility itself," he replied. "Clients are looking for more than an aesthetic solution. We are, after all, being paid to solve a problem in a business context. So there is an implicit responsibility to solve the problem in a way that is both aesthetically pleasing and works for the business needs of the clients. A lot of designers get involved exclusively with the design. That's interesting, but it's only half of the problem. There's a duality involved in most assignments that escapes the attention of many designers."

"Knowing that, who would your consider the perfect client?" I said, " Perhaps one with the duality of interests?" " No," Chris responded after a long pause "We are not in a patronage environment. The perfect client is one who really trusts you and respects what you are doing. And the road is a two-way street in that you also have to trust and respect a good client. Great design occurs when a designer will listen to the client and understand why they may not like one solution, then use that knowledge to create another solution they both like as well as, maybe even better than, the original. It's mostly about each respecting the other's opinion and knowing they are both trying to solve the same problem."

"By the way, most people are feeling the crunch of the '90s zero-margin mandate... that is, the right-sizing of the economy. 'Squeeze' is the word I'm looking for. Has it affected your company?"

"Of course. But it hasn't necessarily hurt us. Financially, last year was our best, but I believe everyone in this business is working harder. We're all doing a lot of smaller jobs to make ends meet. We've just been fortunate to have some very large projects come our way. We jokingly referred to one as being out of the '80s' because of the budget and scope of the project. But it's not typical of this decade.

Since his company's beginning, Chris has been actively involved with education, with all his efforts focused on Southwest Texas State University in San Marcos. Today, even the most critical educators generally concede that his efforts have helped make the design department a force statewide. The department's centerpiece, The Creative Summit, is now ten years old and today draws brand name designers from around the country.

'I know you have invested a lot of energy in teaching.' I said. ' Why did you pick Southwest Texas State or, better yet, why do it at all?"

"I chose San Marcos because there wasn't a program in Houston that wanted me, "Chris commented sheepishly." I wasn't invited. Also, my idea of teaching was more problem and concept oriented which didn't fit into the theoretical approach to design education. As to why, it's probably because I had a lot of respect for some my instructors at East Texas State University and well… I think I have a knack for it. But it's hard work and largely thankless."

"So it's not the labor of love?" I asked.

"No, it's just labor," he stated flatly, before smiling, "But I'll tell you what I love, really love, about this business is the companionship in the firm. The sense that we are a group. We do a lot together. And our work is largely a product of the group. I could not compete in this arena without them, and I wouldn't want to try. It's one of the things I value most about the profession.

Before the background music began to swell and Chris was carried out on the shoulders of his tearful colleagues, I figured to try just one more trick. Rick Caplan once called designers 'exotic menials.' Do you agree?" I asked, reaching deep into the barrel for at least one terse comment.

"You are a menial only if you let yourself be," Chris answered reasonably. "I don't mind being considered exotic, but designers have to recognize that as a profession we don't command a lot of respect from the business community. It has to be earned. We don't instantly have the respect given a doctor or lawyer because the profession is too new. But good design can change trends and drastically impact business, so in that regard it's very powerful. But only if it's done right. For the immediate future, most designers will have to prove their worth to the business community on an individual basis before they are valued. And frankly, some designers shouldn't be valued."

"By God, Chris," I shouted, jumping up and spilling the remains of a warm Pepsi on his table, " I think you've just said something that could possibly just possibly, offend someone. Congratulations!"

"I hope you won't put that in the article." He said wistfully.

"Absolutely not," I replied, "you have my word on it."