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A Winter Dream(20)

By:Richard Paul Evans


Potts lowered the paper to look at us. “And my personal favorite, ‘This is the kind of advertising slogan that makes me want to gouge out my eyes with my BankOne ballpoint pen.’ ”

Leonard burst out laughing.

Potts glared at him and Leonard immediately stopped.

“I’m glad you find this amusing, Leonard. Because hearing this from our client was anything but amusing. We’re lucky they didn’t walk.” He looked over the group coolly. “This is the agency that created the Marlboro Man—I can’t believe Edward didn’t fire the bunch of us. We have until tomorrow noon to pull a hat trick and show BankOne something worthy of Leo Burnett. And you have until ten-thirty tomorrow morning to present it to me. Don’t let me down.”

“Did they give you any more specifics?” Timothy asked. “Other than we suck?”

“Original. Memorable. Colloquial. Appeals to the everyman—not just Dom Perignon drinkers.”

“We won’t let you down,” Timothy said.

“You already have. Don’t do it again. Wow me. Wow them.”

Timothy stood. “On it. Let’s go, team.”

In spite of Timothy’s contrived enthusiasm, gloom had fallen over the group. When we were out of earshot of Potts’s office, Sade said, “Tomorrow morning? Is he serious?”

“As a quadruple bypass,” Timothy said. He turned to Parker. “Call Mangia and order sandwiches and Red Bulls. This is going to be an all-nighter.”

“Can we have sushi?” Leonard asked.

“No. Everyone has ninety minutes to come up with something. We’ll meet in the conference room at three. Kate, have Kim book the room.”

She shook her head. “So much for my son’s first baseball game,” she said.

Leonard turned to me. “Hope you brought your game today, new guy.”

I guessed that he had already forgotten my name. “Joseph,” I said.

“Right.”

I went back to my cubicle and began my creative ritual, scribbling BankOne in ballpoint pen on a yellow notepad. I had never worked on a bank account, though a few years back I had written award-winning copy for a credit union   in Thornton. There are few things less titillating than bank advertising, and the name of my award should have been the Less Boring Than the Rest Award.

Then I remembered my dream. You can bank on it. I ripped off the page and feverishly began roughing out my concept.

An hour later Parker came by my cubicle. “It’s time for our meeting,” he said. He sounded grim, more like he was on his way to an execution than a creative meeting. “I’ll show you the way.”

I grabbed my notepad and followed him to one of the smaller conference rooms—the one decorated with a gigantic box of Froot Loops from our Kelloggs account. Timothy was already inside sitting at the head of the table. He was talking to Kate and shaking his head. Leonard was the last to arrive. He was holding a bag of popcorn and a notepad.

“Shut the door,” Timothy said to Leonard.

“Can do, chief.” He kicked it shut with his foot.

Timothy took a deep breath. “All right, this is soft-clay phase, no such thing as a dumb idea, just dumb writers. Who wants to go first?”

Everyone looked at each other. Then Kate shrugged. “Don’t wait for me, Tim already shot me down.”

“Happens,” Timothy said. “Sade?”

“Okay. I’m still fleshing it out, so bear with me.” She stood. “We’re trying to sell credibility, right? So I went back to our original notes and started looking over the trends. BankOne has a larger amount of hospitals as clients than any other major bank. So what if we say, “Four out of five doctors choose BankOne . . .”

No one responded.

“Don’t everyone clap at once,” she said.

“Comments?” Timothy asked.

Parker shook his head. “No, everyone knows that doctors are horrible with money.”

“Overdone,” Chloe said.

“Sounds like a joke,” Leonard said.

“Take it easy,” Timothy said.

Sade sat down. “Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got, Lenny.”

Parker stood. “I’ll go. I’m with Sade on the credibility. I think she’s got the right question just the wrong answer. I say we bring on a celebrity spokesperson, someone people already trust about money, like Suze Orman or Dave Ramsey.”

“Are they available?” Timothy asked.

“No idea,” Parker said.

“Can we find out before ten-thirty tomorrow morning?”

Parker frowned. “We can try.”

“Could work,” Sade said.

“They’ll never do it,” Kate said. “They’re not going to tie their names to a specific financial institution. It will taint their credibility.”