Freddie And Lucy Find Love

WARNING: Don't read this story if easily offended by niceness.

The desire to create, to be given the opportunity to use any such talent for reward and to experience the joy of witnessing the end results rested deep within Freddie Redding, a media studies graduate from a third-rate college.

However, because of his lowly degree plus lack of experience invariably met advice not to complete the recruitment form when he applied for jobs in creative advertising in New York.

So at Grand Central he picked out a town upstate in an endeavor to kick-start his career at a small city/big town, make his mark and then head back to Manhattan. It didn't matter to him what place he chose so he picked the first name that appealed on the timetable and waited for his train, thinking life sucks.

Early that afternoon Freddie made his pitch. The advertising manager of 'The Beacon' – a tabloid newspaper - started off promising, asking numerous questions but then declaring he had a full staff with no authority to recruit over the 'establishment' figure.

Freddie said he'd like to see the newspaper owner, a request that rather started the manager, who agreed to initiate the request.

Freddie was ushered into an office marked 'Proprietor' but instead of a bewhiskered old man with glasses perched above his forehead he was introduced to Mrs West, slightly bewhiskered but without glasses and only middle-aged.

Thirty minutes later she called the advertising manager, her nephew John Young, and told him to find a desk for Freddie who was starting as a contract advertising salesperson and would be paid by the column inch of space he sold.

"This is highly irregular."

"Your job is to find Mr Redding a workspace, not to tell me how to do my job," snapped John's aunt.

Freddie was placed in the darkest corner of the office, then given a list of names and addresses of all current advertisers and instructed not to go near them.

Freddie went to leave the office and was called back by John Young, who advised that Freddie must log the assignment book where he was going and his estimated time of return.

"When I'm on permanent staff I will follow office systems; but until then I work as I wish," he said, leaving John speechless with indignation.

Freddie was in a strange town, supervised by a manager who didn't want him and no instructions where to find likely suckers – er, possible potential advertisers. In all, a very unpromising start.

Outside the newspaper offices Freddie watched contractors reforming one side of Main Street. He phoned the number written on the vehicles after checking that the company wasn't a current advertiser and asked to speak to the chief executive.

"Hello, Mr Castle – Freddie of 'The Beacon'. Your men are doing a great job outside our offices.

"What, still another 800 yards to go?

"Yes, they are working.

"Listen, hundreds of townspeople will see your men working, some of them cursing because of the dust, mess or being held up because two lanes are out of use for traffic. Why don't you take out an ad in 'The Beacon' apologizing for the inconvenience?

"Why? To engender goodwill and to build business."

"Right, I'll tell you what will work – a quarter page, thick black border with your company name and logo at the bottom. The heading says,

'Sorry About the Mess But We're Improving Main Street.' 'No job too small. Phone us now for repairs or new work before winter sets in. Your job will be next. 'Castle Highway Construction and Permanent Paving… etc.'

"Yes, of course that's not many words for a quarter page ad. You'll get a two-line big heading and plenty of white space to make the ad look attractive and stand out.

"Of course, I understand Mr Jones, you are not meant to know much about advertising; your expertise is building highways. I'm your expert consultant in advertising.

"What do I recommend? Three insertions that will cost you $1320.00 all up."

"It's not a lot of money; it's probably two- thousandth of what you are being paid for this reconstruction contract.

"Mr Castle, there's been no breach of confidentiality by the city administration. I had no idea what the value of the contract was worth. I just took a stab.

"Drop in for a beer on Friday night? I'd really like that, Mr Jones as I'm new in town. Could you please have your PA phone in the space order. Thank you."

Freddie rubbed his hands. He'd just made $264 as his first commission as the artwork, setting and composition would be charged out to the client. Jim Castle had said he didn't advertise because he knew nothing about it and the other people at 'The Beacon' were next to useless. He would use Freddie as his consultant and they'll talk about a fee over a beer late Friday afternoon.

"They make an awful mess, don't they?"

Freddie turned and saw a beautiful brunette waiting for him to answer.

"Relatively speaking yes, but practically speaking no – it's a messy job, they are watering down dust and other management practices appear at least adequate."

"Do you work for Jim Castle?"

"No, I work for 'The Beacon'.

"No you don't, Are you some sort of trickster?"

"Mrs West hired me fifteen minutes ago to sell advertising on contract."

"But we don't employ contract ad reps."

"How would you know?"

"Because I am general manager of 'The Beacon'.

"Well, fancy that – here is the letter of authority Mrs West scrawled out for me until my business cards are printed. Does that satisfy you?"

"I'm sorry, Freddie," she said sweetly, flushing slightly. "You can never be too careful these days. I'm Lucy, Mrs West's daughter."

"Hi, do I kiss you or just shake hands?"

She now really flushed. "A handshake will suffice."

"Good, I didn't want to mess you make-up. Why don't you do a better job with it?"

"Pardon me," she said stiffly.

"I'm sorry – I'm a bit of a tease. However you'd benefit by having expert tuition. You have lovely skin but your cosmetic tonings are out."

"You think you know better than I do?"

"In this instance, yes. My parents run an old-fashion emporium and I've worked in every department."

"Even in make-up and lingerie?"

"Yes, let's look at you – 34B bra, dress between 7 and 8, medium hose and shoes probably a seven."

"That's incredible – I do fit some size seven dresses and occasionally size six and a half shoes will fit. You appear to be a very interesting man Freddie. I must dash – but come with me for a drink after work today, Freddie; I'd like to find out why a young man with your obvious talent would want to settle in the place like this."

"Thank you, I'll come to your office."

They smiled and parted, his smile growing wider as he watched the slight swing in her ass as she walked up the steps to enter the offices of her newspaper.

Freddie called at two stores not on the list of advertisers and met only impenetrable resistance from management. He took a break, disappointed, at coffee shop and ordered a flat white. The premises were crowded but there was one woman at a table with three empty seats. He introduced himself as Freddie Redding and asked if he could sit at the table.

"Yes, by all means – but please say something funny to make me smile."

"You are quite a rare woman – you are wearing a perfectly fitting bra."

The woman laughed, said that was a lucky guess, and introduced herself as Dora Washington.

"Hello, Dora. Do you work in the city centre or are you a lady of leisure?"

"Until recently I owned this thriving coffee shop, but thought ten years was enough so sold it and bought a lingerie store but that is ailing because of discounting by two competitors at the mall."

"What are you doing about that?"

Dora looked at him quizzically and before stuffing her mouth with the remaining piece of fruit cake asked, "What can I do?"

"Advertise a point of difference and in-store have a full range but always feature your top lines in the window show case, leaving the display no longer than two weeks before changing it. At one end feature an item, say a product you'll describe as 'Our top bra' and then another item, even a bra, down the other end you call, 'This week's special'. Both will sell because some women like to be seen buying quality while others are a sucker for bargains.

"You've worked in retailing."

"Yes, for my parents, who operate an old-style emporium in central Pennsylvania…"

"The Settlers' Emporium?"

"Yes."

"I've detoured to visit it two years ago and I met your parents – the name Redding has come back to me. Very nice people. You've worked in lingerie haven't you? That remark of yours earlier about my perfectly fitting bra tells me that. What sort of advertising?"

"Small ads costing say $150 each or instead go for bust, if you'll excuse the pun, and take a full page for $1760 I think it is including a loading for requesting an early right-hand page."

Freddie checked his rate card and added in the loading – "Sorry, that would be $1780. May I disclose to you that I began working for 'The Beacon' on commission about one hour ago, appointed by Mrs West. So the larger the ad you take, the bigger my commission."

"It's honest of you to point that out; what do you recommend?"

"A full page radical ad."

Dora sighed. "Something told me you'd recommend a big ad – you are betting on the King Hit, aren't you?"

"Yes, and if it works you then fall back to regular small ads using a similar theme. Here's what I suggest."

Freddie spread out his white paper serviette that had come with his coffee. In the centre of the ad he drew two humps that looked like a child's drawing of a bird.

"Symbolic of breasts?"

Freddie nodded while writing a small heading: 'They Deserve the Perfect Fit. Get yours in traditional or latest styles, expertly fitted, at (business name and address)'.

"I like it – but the type is squashed right down the bottom of the page."

"Right, let me explain. The white page with just a child-like drawing attracts attention. 'What's this they ask…a bird…two islands in the sea? Ohmigod, it's meant to be a pair of boobs. Just what is this?'

"And they read down and are surprised the type is so small, but they can read it easily enough. If they are women in poorly fitting bras the image of our little drawing and accompanying words will haunt them."

Dora's face creased and she said, "So next morning or soon after, in they'll trot and I make sale after sale and win some of those people as regular clients."

"That's the theory," smiled Freddie.

"Yes, and you want me to pour more money into promoting a failing business on the chance your ad will win hearts and minds and motivate women?"

"Yes, and it's a gamble. If you can't afford the outlay I will loan you money – I've come back from Europe with some money in my pocket."

"Good God, I can't take your money and I guess if you have been wandering Europe you are near broke. I have the money thank you and please book the ad in for...um…"

"Next Thursday morning."

"Why Thursday?"

"I believe in your case Friday is too late and Wednesday is too early. Mrs West told me most stores don't trade on Sundays but the mall is open as are garden and hardware centers."

"Right, Thursday it is as Fridays and Saturdays are our busiest days – but I want much larger type for the heading and for the address details."

"No."

"You can't refuse me; it's my ad and my money."

"Ah, but it's my concept and I want it given the chance to work. If you don't agree then take your ad to 'The Beacon' yourself or call a regular rep."

"You're rather cocky for someone fresh out of college and extensive travel, with no business experience."

"Ideas have no boundaries which includes no respect for age or experience. I'll tell you what, I'll pay for the ad and production costs and you reimburse me only if the ad at least trebles your usual Thursday to Saturday takings."

"Damn boy – you're so cocky it hurts. I used to have that intense self-belief once. You design and have the ad produced to your specifications and you sign it off as if I sight the proof I'll only want to change it. I'm going back to the store now and will phone the space order through."

"Will they know who you are? You're not on the current list of advertisers."

"I was a regular advertiser until six months ago and everyone at the newspaper knows as Mrs West's lovely sister."

"It's cozy how people network and are related in smaller communities, isn't it?" said Freddie, grinning. "Goodbye Dora."

"Goodbye Freddie, your arrival has lifted the skill and intelligent levels of this town up a notch. Where are you living?"

"Hope to find a place tonight."

"Barbara Mitchell at 24 Apple Blossom Lane had a clean room she lets out cheaply. She said yesterday it's still vacant. You just turn up; I'll advise here you will be arriving by 7:00 as the room rental includes breakfast and dinners with her and Ted."

"That's wonderful, thanks," Freddie said, walking off whistling as his commission on that ad would be $356.

Freddie sold two ads from other traders and then went to the mall. It was a typical mall – spick and span, all class but lacking character. To really compete head-on the town centre needed the sidewalks repaved, their shop fronts repaired and redecorated and to string permanent bunting hung across Main Street and arrange end-of-week street events.

He saw an elderly lady in a china store pulling a large crate.

"Allow me, ma'am, just show me where you want it."

"Why thank you – over here please."

"There you go – hand me the bar and I'll open it."

"Please be careful – the crate if full of English bone china."

Freddie broke the metal strapping, levered off the nailed down top and removed the protective packing and the thick brown paper, exposing the china nestling in shavings.

"This product looks quality."

"It is but it will be a slow seller."

"I'm Freddie Redding and I sell advertising space for 'The Beacon'. Take a two column by 10 inch deep ad and I'll write you an ad that will sell all of this within 48 hours or my name isn't Scrimshank Huntinghorse."

"No-one has a name like that and you've just said your name was Freddie Redding."

"I know, ma'am, I'm a bit of a tease but not a trickster. It will sell."

"I would love to, but unfortunately mall management controls all advertising."

Freddie's eyebrow rose. "May I inspect your tenancy and trading agreement?"

"I'm afraid not, it's a confidential document."

"Look, I'll take this rubbish out to the back and you open the agreement under the advertising clause – that's all I need to see. It's probably a standard clause so you won't be giving secrets away."

"I really don't know."

"What's your name?"

"Milly Jessop."

"Look Milly, I'm offering to help you, to extract a little money from you, but it will be for your own good."

"Very well, you sound convincing, just like a trickster."

Freddie studied the clause relating to advertising and promotion.

"It's a standard clause Milly – you are required to contribute monthly to mall management's mall promotion advertising fund and to contribute pro rata – meaning on the existing set scale - to any special promotion that wins a minimum support of 60 per cent of mall traders. And that's all – you are free to advertise whenever, wherever and with whomever you wish in addition to those two requirements I've just mentioned."

"Are you certain about that? Mall management is all smiles and assurances 'We are here to help you' but at the same time we are ruled with an iron fist and are required to submit all advertising we wish to place ourselves."

"Yes, totally sure and their is no contractual requirement for you to submit your individual advertising for management approval."

Freddie gave Milly the cost of the ad and she agreed to take it.

"When did this shipment arrive?"

"Almost a year ago. I stuck it out the back waiting for the right time to display it but the right time didn't seem to arrive. The supplier's new catalogue arrived yesterday so I thought I should quit this lot before deciding whether to order more."

"Good, good. And how much is the discount?"

"Ten percent."

"Oh, yeah right. Let's get some words down; how about: 'Just Landed! Fine English Bone China – a selection of patterns. Be the envy of your friends. Priced to sell!' Then we add your store name andlocation."

"But a year ago is not just landed."

"Compared with the date of the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers a year ago rates only as a small moment in time in that context."

"I suppose it does. It's not nice to encourage people to be envious."

"My answer to that, Milly, is that you are selling china, not being in the pulpit selling high ground morality or ethics."

"Oh, I would agree with that. But why don't you say ten percent discount?"

"Well, the truth is Milly, saying ten percent off is almost like saying ten percent on, it's nothing. The phrase 'reduced to sell' is called perceptive-inducing wording. It's not lying, it just suggests that a sizeable amount MAY have been knocked off the price, so prospective purchasers are left with this formula racing through their minds: Quality+envy+lowered price=must have!"

"You seem to have a remarkable talent for one so young, Freddie. I approve your proposal."

"That's fine – could you please phone your space booking for a ten by two run-of-paper advertisement for Thursday with a request that it go in the cooking/home/décor section if they have one – to tell you the truth I haven't seen a copy of 'The Beacon' yet as I only arrived in town just before noon.

"You're looking nervous: here's Mrs West's confirmation of my appointment for your perusal."

x x x x x

Back at the office Freddie drafted his five ads and when his manager came in he told John he'd like to insert an advertisement and asked about discount for staff.

"You're not staff, so no discount."

"Do you know if Mrs West is in?"

John flushed and said, "All right, you get full staff discount of 50 per cent. My approval of staff ads is required."

"Thank you John, I appreciate being treated like family."

Freddie drafted his ad: 8 x 1 with, 4 pt border. Heading 24pt bold: 'Introducing' then. single col. mono mugshot of advertiser here, then text: 'Freddie Redding has joined 'The Beacon' as an advertising consultant. If you want ads that work, let Freddie do the work for you. Phone (Beacon's phone number).'

John looked at the draft Freddie handed him and growled, "You can't run an ad like this; it's placing all other staff at a disadvantage."

"Bullshit – they can run their own ads and pay for them. Clearly it's still a level playing field here."

"You can't call yourself a consultant. You all are advertising salespersons."

"Are they engaged on contract?"

"Er, no."

"Well, I don't sell ads – I consult, and during the consultation process the ad just seems to materialize."

"Well, bully for you. I'm not approving it."

Freddie stroked his chin and looked at the ceiling at approximately where he thought Mrs West's office was."

"All right – it's approved."

Reluctantly John showed Freddie around the office, explained office systems, took him out and did the same in production and when they returned three sales reps were back and John introduced Freddie to them as "Our new contract advertising consultant, appointed personally by Mrs West".

"How on earth did you get the Old Bag to agree to that," asked Stella, one of the reps.

"Yes, I'd also like to hear the answer to that," said Lucy West entering the room, ignoring the slur on her mother.

"Well, it was easy I guess. She told me I was wasting her time that John employed sales reps and had a full team at present. I said I would work on contact – no results, no remuneration and that seemed to appeal to her but she said I'd still have to go on to the payroll for insurances purposes and the like. She said it would be good having an assertive male in advertising but I should watch myself because all the women in advertising and administration were sex starved."