I considered looking for a new job, but in a market as competitive as New York, that would require superhuman energy, confidence and references. I had none of the above.
Part of me still fantasized about returning to Colorado, back to the days of blissful ignorance—secure in the false belief that my family loved me and that Ashley and I were meant for each other. It was a pleasant fiction but still a lie. And you can’t squeeze happiness from an exposed lie any more than you can drink real water from a mirage.
Most of all, I missed April. Sometimes so much that my chest ached. I missed her and hated myself for not loving her the way she had loved me. In my banishment from Colorado, I had chosen to pay for someone else’s sin. But in my banishment from April, the sin was mine. And that made the pain much, much worse. I had no idea how I could ever get her back.
There was nothing left to do but resign myself to Fate, hoping that she might have some mercy left for me—and that my heart didn’t give out before it came.
When you work with just one person, you either like them, learn to tolerate them, or kill them. Odd as it may sound, the better I got to know Leonard, the more I liked him. He kind of grew on me. Like mold.
In spite of his DayGlo insecurity and complete lack of social skills, he had a good heart. He wasn’t really a bad writer either, though he was inconsistent. Every now and then, Leonard would come up with something surprisingly brilliant, reminding me why he had been hired in the first place. He probably struck out more times than he knocked it out of the park, but so did Babe Ruth.
On Thursday, November 17, I was working on a direct-mail piece for HoneyBaked Hams when the phone rang. It was still just Leonard and me, and Leonard had assigned me the task of answering the phone.
“Leo Burnett,” I said.
“Joseph, it’s Charlene.”
“Charbaby,” I said.
“That’s so un-PC,” she said. “Never stop.”
“Promise. It’s so good to hear your voice. So how’s life at the top?”
“Why don’t you come find out for yourself?”
“I’d be happy to,” I said flippantly. “Just show me the way.”
“I can do more than that. I can open the door for you. Mr. Ferrell would like to meet with you.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Mr. Ferrell would like to meet you. He asked me to call you to make an appointment.”
I couldn’t think of any reason why the president and CEO of Leo Burnett New York would want to talk to me. “Why?”
“Remember those ads of yours I took?”
“Yes.”
“I gave them to Mr. Ferrell to look at. He was seriously impressed. I told you they were good. So catch a cab and get right over here.”
“I’ll be right there,” I said.
“I can’t wait to see you again,” Charlene said. “You dream boy.”
Ten minutes later I stepped out of the elevator on the eighteenth floor into the executive suite. Charlene smiled when she saw me. She pushed a button on her phone. “He’s here, sir.”
A deep male voice boomed, “Send him in.”
She stood up from her desk and we embraced. “Are you ready?”
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be ready for.”
“To dream.” She opened the door to Mr. Ferrell’s office, putting her hand on the small of my back as I walked in.
Mr. George Ferrell was a tall, well-groomed man, dressed in an ash gray Valentino suit, with French cuffs and gold cufflinks peeking out beneath the coat sleeves. He had a full head of hair, which was impeccably coiffed and lightly peppered with gray. He was fit, tan and confident-looking. Everything about him, including his office, seemed to exude energy.
“Joseph,” he said, eyeing me as I entered. “Come in, come in.”
I walked up to his desk.
“Sit down,” he said.
“Yes, sir.” I sat.
He looked me over until I began to feel self-conscious. “I’ve had the chance to look over more than twenty campaigns you’ve written. Are they all yours?”
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded. “You’re very talented,” he said. “Charlene tells me that we’ve had you rotting over in the satellite office. How did that come about?”
“You want the whole story?”
“Condense it,” he said. “Isn’t that what we admen do best—package long stories into bite-sized nuggets.”
“Fair enough. I was hired at Leo Burnett Chicago from a small Colorado agency. My first week there I came up with a campaign for BankOne which landed me a promotion as creative head of the BankOne team.”
“That wouldn’t be the Bank On It, campaign?”