I sat in the creative meeting with my boss, Roger, his assistant, Carrie, and our new creative director, Rebecca Austin. We were crowded at one end of the conference table, Roger seated at the head, Carrie and Rebecca across from me. Roger and Rebecca were tossing ideas back and forth. I was not paying much attention, switching between Carrie's tits and Rebecca's tits. I know it sounds like I wasn't into the job, but the truth is, I wrote the ad copy and I knew it was going to be a hit with the client and another obscene amount of money would be directly deposited in my bonus account.
Rebecca's voice cut through my tit-watching reverie. "Colin, what do you think if we changed the wording from 'will do' to 'can do'?"
I looked from Carrie's tits to the ad layout on the easel. From there, I stared into Rebecca's green eyes. "I don't think any of the wording should be changed. Look, 'can do' connotes ability, whereas, 'will do' connotes, ability, desire, and determination. We're working on a customer service campaign here, let's not lose the custserv aspect of it. Know what I mean?"
Rebecca nodded, her blonde hair partially obscuring one of her beautiful eyes. Roger said, "Colin, we're not forgetting you wrote the ad. And, I think you're probably right about the semantics of the ad. But, we're a team here and we're looking at all angles."
I turned the full "you're an idiot" gaze on Roger. "Look, Rog, I'm all about being a team player. But, I've homered my last five campaigns. That's five Fortune 500 clients I've delivered for this company. Now, I understand Rebecca is creative director and you're the VP of production, but this is what I do."
Carrie smirked a little. She thinks Roger is an idiot and has told me many times over drinks. Truth is, Carrie could do Roger's job better than he can.
Roger was about to speak when Rebecca cut him off. "Colin's right. That's all there is to it. We've fine tuned the campaign as much as we can."
Carrie added her opinion, "Yeah, Roger, too many cooks and all that. Let's just look at the creative spots we have." She smiled subtly at me and opened her organizer. "We have the email both text and html." Pointed to the easel. "Here's the tv spot." She clicked play on the VCR and the ad ran for thirty seconds. While the ad ran, I tuned back to the tit watching.
When the ad was done, Roger said, "That's splendid." He actually said "splendid". "We're going to homer again." He gathered up his papers and said, "Since the ad is done, why don't you three head on home and take the rest of the day off. I'll see you in here bright and early Monday morning for our pitch to the client. Get some rest so you're sharp Monday." With that, he left.
"I can't believe he gave us the rest of the day off." Carrie said while sipping her margarita. We were at Rusty's, a little bar in the basement of our office building. She was halfway through her first margarita, I was on my second scotch rocks. A little note about our relationship: first and foremost, we're friends. We have been since I was hired by Bragg Media four years ago. She helped me through the breakup with Madison last year and I helped her get through her divorce from Lawyer Bob about the same time. While we're both pretty sure we'd be good together, we remain friends instead. That isn't to say we haven't done it a few times, but, not very often, and when we did/do, it didn't/doesn't change our relationship that much.
"Roger's not a bad guy. He's just an idiot." I replied.
She smiled and took a drag off her cigarette. "When do you think the campaign is going to go live?"
"That depends on our idiot media planner people. I think it should go live asap, but, that's not my domain."
"So does Roger. He's been pushing old man Bragg to put this on top."
"Yeah, so he says. I don't know how effective it's going to be with the other campaigns we already have in place for the other clients who have already paid, but who knows."
Carrie smiled at me. When she did, her cheeks dimpled and her brown eyes sparkled. Her hair was brown and cut short in sort of a pageboy cut. She was wearing a blue cardigan over a white turtleneck. It made her tits stand out. Hmm. "What are you doing for Christmas?"
"I'm going to my parents house, I think."
"Ugh, that drive sucks."
"Yeah, that's for sure. What about you, what are you doing?"
"I'm picking up the boys Christmas morning and heading out to Athens to see the whole big family."
"How are you doing?"
She smirked a little and said, "Well, I hated the holidays when I was married and now, my first year alone, they're miserable. But, I've got the boys and they take up a significant amount of time. I don't know, I'm still young, so there's still time."
"Ain't that the truth. Don't forget you're a knockout, you make a ton of money, and you have great friends."
She smiled again and said, "Yes, I'm a knockout, I do make good money, but my friends leave a lot to be desired. Espescially since they haven't taken me out for a while."
I nodded and said, "Point taken."
She looked at her watch and said, "Shit, I have to pick up Robbie from soccer practice. I'll see you Monday." She kissed me on the cheek and left me with the bill.
I sat nursing my scotch and smoking a cigarette. I was down under a pack a day, probably since the office went non-smoking six months ago. I still snuck a few in my office when I had the time, but nothing like the one right after the other routine I'd been on for three years. I was about to go home when Rebecca Austin walked in. She saw me and waved. I waved back and she walked over to my table.
"Hi, do you mind if I join you?"
"No, I'm just enjoying a cocktail. Can I get you one?"
"Sure, Kettle One martini up, dirty, and dry." I motioned to our waiter and ordered her drink.
"What brings you down to Rusty's?"
"Mark said you'd be down here."
Mark was one of the copy writers on my staff. "What is Mark still doing at the office?"
"He wasn't. I caught him in the elevator on the way down."
"So, you're out looking for me?"
She blushed a little and said, "Well, not exactly. I think we need to get some stuff in order if we're going to work together effectively."
Uh-oh, I didn't like where this was going. I'm one of those does-not-play-well-with-others types. I don't like to hear my shit stinks because nine times out of ten it doesn't. "What do we need to get in order?" I asked.
The waiter brought her drink and another bowl of peanuts. He nodded at me drink and I briefly considered another one before shaking him off – for a while.
She took a sip of her martini and nodded approvingly, "Most people don't know what dry means. This is a good drink."
"That's why I'm here. Now, where were we? Oh, yeah, you were going to tell me my job."
She looked a little shocked when I said that. "No, Colin, I wasn't going to tell you your job. I think you have a great grasp of your department and I think I could learn some from you."
I blushed and said, "Sorry, I'm used to hearing all sorts of suggestions from management. Most of them think ad is spelled with two d's."
"It's okay, I'm used to you artsy types" she said with a sly smile.
I smirked at that. "You win."
She took a cigarette out of my pack and lit it with my lighter, "You don't mind, do you?" She flashed those deep green eyes and that body inside her perfectly tailored navy suit. There wasn't much I could say other than, "No."
"Good. I usually only smoke when I'm drinking, but, lately that's been often."
"Yeah, new in town is a bitch. Where are you from?" I thought I knew the answer, but I asked anyway.
"Originally Riverside, California, up north of San Diego and east of LA. But, I've lived in San Diego since I graduated from college. My parents moved to Florida a couple of years ago and my sister lives in Nashville. I decided to take something closer to them."
"Where did you go to school?"
She took a sip of her martini and said, "Undergrad was at USC and graduate school was Stanford."
"Wow, MBA?"
"Yeah."
"I'm impressed. Most of the creative directors can't read or write and here, you're a Stanford grad." I did some math and guessed her age at about thirty. That meant if she graduated like any other normal college kid, she'd been on the job for about six years.
"What about you? Where did you go?"
"Well, I got my degree in English at Auburn. I was on the five-football season program, graduated in December. I was planning on writing the perfect novel when I moved to New York. The novel was a good excuse to bartend with a degree for two years. One day, I had an epiphany and decided to come home and get a real job."
"Are you still working on the Great American Novel?"
"Of course. But, I also gained some valuable experience in the city writing ad copy and editing ad copy."
Rebecca took another cigarette out of my pack, lit it with my lighter, and exhaled elegantly. She said, "What is your novel about?"
"It's classic detective Film Noir kind of stuff. You know, Chandler, Hammett."
She smiled. It was a kind, soft smile. She had faint laugh lines around her eyes. It made her more attractive. "I have to admit, I've never read much of that stuff. I've always been more into horror. Stephen King, Dean Koontz."
I nodded, "Yeah, I've read all their stuff, too. Basically, I read anything that won't move and then some things that do."
The waiter came by and motioned at our drinks. I shook my head. He went away. "So, why aren't you married?" She asked me.
I blushed a little. "I haven't found the one to marry yet. I've had a couple of Titanic-sized disasters, but nothing permanent yet. What about you?"
"Same here. The last guy I dated before I moved here was a complete mama's boy. He lived four houses down from her. She was always coming over to his place, when I was there. It got to the point where I had to leave early in the morning when I spent the night with him."
"That had to be a pain in the ass. I've always dated head cases that hate their families so, I've never had any outside familial influence on my relationships." Our eyes locked across the table. Zing. "Look, I don't want to be too forward but, I'm starting to get drunk. If I don't eat something soon, I'll be a drooling idiot before too long. Would you like to come to my place for dinner?"
She blushed faintly, "I don't know, can you cook?"
