The Advertisement

THE ADVERTISEMENT

Marketing is a skill that confounds the mind and attracts from us the deepest of responses frequently without our realising exactly where that response came from. It is also highly psychologically based and is intended to get to the people it is attempting to attract, but few others.

Properly drafted an advertisement will never even be looked to by those irrelevant and to those on point it should generate feelings of inner excitement, anticipation and in some greed and manipulation.

Each and every word is carefully chosen by the writer to evoke exactly what he or she is seeking. The embellishments around the words need to promote the luxuriousness or otherwise of the contents. The monetary aspects will firmly establish the economic boundaries, but to a degree relevant to what is to be achieved.

It was in one of those pensive moods and days that Jane saw that Advert. She read it and read it several times over seeking to draw out its maximum meanings and trying to keep a boundary on what it truly meant. The Advertiser was one of the world's most influential head hunters. The place was one of the world's top fashion magazines and it took in the entire page including the normal blurbs on the Advertiser (being in their mind the world's best at this stuff), the contact details and how to apply.

It read:

We have a client that wants the most beautiful and intelligent woman to join them for the month of January.

She will be classically beautiful with a stunning figure.

She will be tall and willowy.

She will ooze class.

She will ooze knowledge and experience and above all be very intelligent.

She will have eyes that flash her inner happiness.

She will be single and have no plans for the month of January anywhere in the world.

She will be well travelled and have an up to date passport.

She will know how to manage men and women at all levels of society.

If this word picture fits you, our client is willing to pay US$400,000 for that month of your time.

We do not see this woman would necessarily be a model or in training to be one.

We do not see the client wants graduate degrees, although that may assist depending upon the degrees and the majors.

Travel will be constant around the world and that will always be at a first class level sometimes on your own and others when accompanied by our client.

Applications and photographs (without any form of makeup) should be made via our website. The application should be very brief and contain all the relevant facts with in two pages Word size 12.

People chosen for the interviews will first be contacted by us and if necessary airflights and accommodation to convenient locations provided. Final interviews will take place in Paris just before Christmas and the chosen woman would commence in London on 1 January 2019 where the principal will be disclosed. Privacy of all matters regarding yourself and the client will of the absolute utmost priority.

The rest was just blah, blah, blah on how good they were and how this one month position would be so marvellous for the chosen, she would be as safe as any international traveller could ever be with private security provided and all costs would be paid by the client.

Jane pondered for a while over her morning coffee as she relaxed looking across the tranquil waters of Sydney Harbour.

The facts were there, but the ones that weren't she considered. She had been an international model until she broke her leg skiing in New Zealand. The pressures of being an international model no longer attracted her, allowing her to complete her degree in Arts Law at Sydney University with Majors in Psychology and Environment Law. She was single with no attachment, still super fit through her gym work and television assignments, tall at 6 feet and besides the money would come in handy for starting and funding her new business in "cloud" management.

She fired off her CV with current photos available through her television studio database and from her own swimsuits photos done at the pool recently by a previous admirer professional photographer.

To her delight she received a phone call the following Friday morning to have her first interview on the Monday morning at 8.00am sharp in their offices at Circular Quay.

Jane : So what do you want me to bring?

Interviewer: Just yourself and we have done all our research, security checks and publicity checks already.

Jane: So what should I wear?

Interviewer: No make up. Exactly what you normally wear for your TV assignments.

Jane: May I inquire the nature of the work?

Interviewer: That is best told to you on Monday. Oh and don't be late, the client is fastidious about being on time.

Jane: Will I meet the client on Monday.

Interviewer: No. You will not be introduced and nor will anyone else be introduced until the final decision is made and the successful applicant formally begins work in London on 1 January 2019. No one will ever know who the client is other than yourself if successful, me and the local police and maybe his security staff.

Jane: Do I have any worries about this man.

Interviewer after some delay and obvious thought: No you will be delighted I am sure.

The phone went dead.

Jane sat at her desk thinking through exactly how precise and clear his answers were, thinking this Head Hunter would have been selected particularly for such a task. He told her only what he thought she needed to know and it was particular.

Just then her boss raced in to her office with this dramatic news assignment and potential story that was going to take her all weekend to work up, manage, get the interviews canned and cut and ready to run first thing Monday morning. She had no more time to dedicate to this mere vague possibility, so it was flat out and move. The boss explained the ins and outs, the contacts, the people he wanted covered and the slant he wanted into the finished materials. In this mix was one seriously wealthy guy who was notorious in his avoiding the limelight, had a very low profile and was a true gentleman if she could luck out with an interview.

It was Sunday morning 9.00am and she caught up with this "guy" so special for the program running along Bondi Beach, with a bit of an entourage near the surf club. She had her best runners and gym gear on that was common for runners on that beach at that time of the morning. Nothing special, just appropriate.

Hi Mr Jones. It is Jane Zopardi here from .....

Mr Jones: No need to say anymore I know exactly who you are and why you want to talk to me. This morning I have 30 minutes at 10.30 at my unit here. You guys would know that I am sure. Be there with your camera man and recorder, no one else and be on time. You will have to put up with me just out of the shower. No lights. Joe here is my security guy who let you in. Enjoy your run. Bye.

Jane almost fell over herself with what had happened. An agreed interview with camera and recorder. With the man no-body interviews. Informal. No apparent control of the agenda. Pleasant man.

She then thought oh shit what do I have to get organised and raced off to her city apartment for showers, quick dress and get those camera and recorder guys at Mr J's security gate no later than 10.15am. Cotton sundress off the shoulders, hair tidy but pulled back, comfortable sandals. A dab of Lancombe on the neck post shower and she scraped in with her Audi 100 to see her two guys waiting at 10.14 and 30 seconds precisely outside the front security doors of M's unit block.

She buzzed and was immediately answered by Joe.

Joe was also of the pithy type: Hi. Ok just three. Yes. Park in bays 20 to 22 underneath. I will meet you at the lifts. Yes I just opened the doors for you. 1 minute to get through. OK. See you down there.

That was the quickest bit of reverse parking Jane had ever done, but by 10.25 they were in the lift and going to the penthouse.

Joe: I have set you guys up there opposite the man on that set of coaches. He will be out in a minute. You are one very lucky crew you guys, so make the most of this. You won't get a second chance.

Right on 10.30 am he was out there in front of the crew, relaxed after his shower in Board shorts, surf club T shirt and sandals.

The cameras were immediately on and Jane sat back listening without a question for ten minutes.

Mr Jones just laid it on the line what he was trying to achieve with his investment proposal he had put to the State Government and the local council for his artificial intelligence park in Western Sydney. Jane was well prepared so she knew the important questions and was delicate on the questions she anticipated he would push back on. There was no temper, no acting, no complexities and most of all no pretence on what this man was seeking to achieve for monstrous money and he wanted help to get over the line with the "pollies". Meaning Jane and your mob, how can you help me and what info can my lawyers give you to get your facts straight.

It was getting close to 10.30 and Jane was getting nervous about the next set of questions.

Jane: There are some tough questions and I get the impression you are one man who would answer these. Ok.

She received a nod.

Where do you get this enormous amount of money?

Is there any foreign capital involved?

Are you fronting for anyone like the Chinese who we know are looking for these infrastructure deals?

How does this interface with the recent Western Sydney Business plan?

Its my family money, plus a group of private families here in Australia who are old family and old money. We will need to borrow about half and that is something I and my people have started on and expect to close late January 2019 if we can get the "pollies" moving. No there is definitely not any foreign money. There are no foreign equity providers. There are no foreigners with a piece of the action anywhere. The whole idea is to interface with the Western Sydney Councils and the Business plan so we can get jobs to the people out west so they can use the new railways and tollways to get to the Park. Meanwhile we have the technology companies lined up to use the Park and they will provide the IT, the people and some of the building finance over special constructions.

It is 10.30 and I have to run to catch up with my sisters family for Sunday lunch. Joe will give the address. I want you to come please so you can see our down to earth no frills family. Get your story cut and come around at say 12.30. Just you. No cameras or phones or recorders. As you are dressed now. Bye.

And that was it. He was gone off to his office and we were ushered out and checked as we left the front security doors.

No one spoke outside. We just had the most unbelievable interview and now Jane is to go to his family gathering as his guest to a private house about ten minutes from where they were now, but of course they had to cut the story, lock it down on tape, give it to their boss, let the lawyers have a good look at anything controversial and be ready later that night to set programming priorities.

At 12.30 Jane arrived at the suburban address to be greeted by a female version of Mr J: You must be Jane. Of course you are I see you on TV all the time. Welcome. Come in and meet our family and my terrors we call Jim and John. The dogs are Labs, so no worries there just give them a pat and a sausage and they will friends for life. Mum and Dad are Frank and Helen. J can be a bit grumpy but we all love him, so we call him J. Get yourself a drink over there and my hubby Evan will help with the intros. Joe is not able to be here but he will come by later to pick up J.

That turned out to be one of the most enjoyable Sydney Sunday BBQ's ever for Jane since she moved out of home in the bush to model. She spread herself around with the kids, the dogs, the oldies and occasionally caught up with J.

Mr Jones: I hoped you enjoyed yourself today. I have to run because I meetings with one of the Councils out west in an around an hour and Joe has to pick me up and I need to change. This is my life these days. Here is my card with my private email and mobile number if you need to follow up. I feel like I can trust you. Don't let me down and never give this card to anyone ever. OK.

Jane: I don't know how I can ever repay you for your time?

Mr Jones just smiled gave her peck on the cheek and left out the back door where Joe was waiting in the Black Jeep.

Jane had to zoom to her office for debriefing with her boss. She hugged sister Mary and the Labs, said her fond goodbyes and headed off.

Mary: Evan did you see how J looked at Jane?

Evan: Yes, bloody good sign eh what.

Jane met with the Head Hunter on the Monday again precisely at 8.00am in his office. He went over details of her CV and from her info on the TV station website. By 8.30am he had cleared all his questions and left five minutes to Jane: So what do you want to know?

What can you tell me about this guy?

Head Hunter: With your sources it would not take you long to work out who so I can only give details about the role. He is an absolute time bomb waiting to go off. He is so busy in meetings and managing his family stuff around the world he has remained single. A typical day would be 15 to 16 hours, most of it in meetings. He flies regularly round the world talking to bankers mostly and occasionally lawyers who he hates apart from his own who he went to school and uni with years ago. If you were to get the role you would be expected to work the same hours as he does and sometime more being his PA, time manager, confident, accompanying person on any event he needs a beautiful woman on his arm and to keep praying woman and industrial spies at bay. Joe works at security so that should be the least of your roles, except I see you are legally qualified so that would help with the warning bells. You would read most of his mail as it comes in and ensure responses go out via email, texts and rarely you will type letters. He has a team of office admin people so you would need to liaise with team and make sure his people access when needed. So an all care, plenty of responsibility, mad time scheduling and stressful role, hence the money.

Jane rang J for some follow up questions and to arrange meetings with his Site Technical Engineer and two boffins that spoke perfect English in an Australian accent, but could not be relied upon to be understandable in plain wordage. On both occasions he insisted he see her personally before and after her interviews to have a coffee, a sandwich and a few moments relief.

On her first meeting with the Site engineer, J was immaculately dressed in probably a Boss black suit, fresh white shirt and fashionable yellow pattern tie. He looked very impressive no doubt compounded by his well over 6 feet height and his tight figure probably testimony to many gym workouts over the years. There was not a crease on his clothes as he spoke passionately on what he was trying to achieve and trying to get some blockhead pollies and their bureaucrats over the line to issue some key licences and building approvals. No approvals and licences, no finance, simple as that he kept saying. They sipped their coffees, chewed their fresh salads and Turkish bread dips and just talked over about themselves totally unguarded. Jane really liked this man and why not.

Her second meeting with the two Professors needed another hour of J's time to convert it all into plain understandable English. J gave her all the time she needed along with some docs on a flashcard she could copy and manipulate for screenshots. That finished with their exchanging information on their private lives and why they remained single; mostly because both were too involved in their careers or the old excuse they had not found that special someone.

It was a Friday morning around 10.00am when J called Jane on her private mobile: I need a favour tomorrow night and hoped you would bail me out? I have to go to a reception and formal dinner at the French Embassy on Saturday evening. I struggle at these types of events because they are so pompous at times. Would you please be my personal guest and guide me through all the crap I will have to endure, the table manners and all the rubbish they go on with. Do have to put up with it because some of the tech companies for the Park are partly owned by the French Government. I hope this is not too late for you. Dress is formal, so I will be suited up black tie?

Jane thought quickly and realised she could put off her dinner with the girls: Sure. Time?

J: 7.00pm. Joe will collect you in the Merc. I will be there already to deal with a couple of their Paris bosses over for the formal meetings. Best advice is don't compete with the French ladies and their make-up and jewellery, because they look plastic.

Jane: Understand. See you at the Embassy.

As Jane entered through the entrance to the Dining room where she had been ushered by a bumbling French groomsman, every man in the room turned to see who was this gorgeous Australian lady who had just entered and who was her man for the evening. J was caused to turn around and watch her as she approached doing her model walk and allowing her movements to emphasise her near perfect figure.

Here was a sophisticated lady. Her dress was black and strapless, with her arms fully exposed and tanned. Her hair was perfectly groomed and as jet flashing black as any lady of Italian descent. Her eyes sparkled green, along with a small emerald choker and earrings. Her shoes were hidden by her long dress, except when a slight slit in her dress allowed a small amount of delicate legs to come on show. Her clutch bag was small, Oroton silver gleam and practical to contain the minimum of maybe a lipstick, her money sticks and cards and key.

As she approached J she kissed him on the cheek as greeting and took his arm.

J just looked appreciatively into her eyes and smiled that beautiful open welcome whispering: You look amazing.

The night went smoothly with Jane managing his etiquette perfectly without anyone on the table recognising. She listened intently into the conversations and commented politely when asked mainly on the political issues surrounding NSW and Federal politics and how that may impact Western Sydney. She did not let on she was a News Reporter, but her background knowledge kept her as a supporter to J whenever he needed some input or a nudge on the leg whenever needed. She knew the backgrounds and reputations of some of the Paris bureaucrats from her time in Paris and dealing with international TV commitments. She would squeeze J's hand or let her hand touch his leg as she bent forward to distract her French annoyances anytime she knew a comment was inaccurate or misleading from one of the sleazebags in particular. The night ended as smoothly as it had begun with Jane dropped off at her apartment by Joe as J finished his formalities at the Embassy.

A week later she received another call from J: I cannot thank you enough for Saturday. You were absolutely perfect. So for something a lot less formal how about coming to our Xmas party as my guest this Friday night. Joe can pick you up at say 8.00pm and we can see how good you can improve my dancing for me. We have a private room at the Hilton with a small dance floor and a DJ. My team is about 30 with partners.

Jane: Fine. I do love black though.