AD-versaries Read online

  “I appreciate your optimism, Sarah, I really do. But I’m starting to think that the big one will never come. I don’t know why I keep working so hard, I never get any closer to a deal that’s worth anything.”

  “You just signed the Shawarma Palace. That’s your fifth deal this month!”

  “And it just barely paid the bills. If we keep this up, we’re going to find ourselves living in a box, panhandling on Fifth Avenue just to be able to eat one meal a day.”

  “Well, just look at it this way…With your good looks you would make a killing at panhandling. And I could manage your income!”

  Victoria laughed at the thought of the two of them in hobo clothes sitting on the sidewalk, her with a beggar’s cup and Sarah with a ledger, carefully recording every penny that entered the cup.

  “Don’t look now, but that guy that’s been staring at you since you came in is still at it.”

  Victoria looked over at the bar and saw a good-looking guy looking back at her. As their eyes met, he quickly looked away. He didn’t seem the type to embarrass easily. Perhaps there was a humility about him that stayed well-hidden from his drinking buddies. Everyone around him occasionally came up and patted him on the back or shook his hand. He didn’t seem embarrassed about the adulation.

  She knew the type. He was no different than anyone else she had ever met in a bar. So self-absorbed that he had no idea how to appreciate anyone or anything; he wasn’t worth her time.

  “You gotta admit, Vic, he’s kinda cute.”

  “Sure, but take away the chiseled jawline and model-like physique and you have nothing left but a self-centered jerk with a perfect head of hair.”

  5

  Pouring through the paper on his desk, Neville was putting on the appearance of busyness as opposed to actually doing something constructive. He was having a hard time shaking the empty feeling that had come over him the previous night at O’Shea’s. He had been lonely before, but this time seemed deeper, more profound. Perhaps his biological clock was ticking and this was his mind’s way of saying that it’s ready to settle down.

  Now, in the light of a new day, with potential and new opportunities presenting themselves at every turn, his emotional longing for companionship and love seemed foolish and child-like; the stuff of dreams. A relationship would do nothing more than slow down his career and keep him from attaining his dream of senior partner. He had worked entirely too hard to allow anything, or anyone, to block his path.

  Having sufficiently convinced himself that he needed neither love nor affection from any one person, Neville focused on the papers scattered on his desk. They were a mix of copy for some new ad campaigns he was running and leads for new clients. He didn’t remember how he had gotten them so mixed up and was a little frustrated with the disorganization he was showing that particular morning.

  Breet, breet.

  The phone on his desk made the soft chirping sound that signified he was being called from inside the building. He picked up the receiver and gave a ‘hello’ that came out less cheery than he had intended.

  “Neville? It’s Stanley.” He never called himself dad at the office. He didn’t want people to think that he would hand out special treatment to Neville just because they were related. Besides, he hadn’t been a dad for most of Neville’s life, why would he start now?

  “Yes, sir. What can I do for you this fine, sunny morning?” Ok, now he was trying too hard to sound aloof.

  “Are you ok, Neville? Are you drinking at work?”

  “No, Stanley. I’m just busy this morning. That’s all.”

  “Oh. Well. Come upstairs. I need to talk to you in person.”

  “Alright. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

  A click on the other end signified that Stanley was through with the conversation. Neville straightened the papers on his desk into nice piles, separated now by category of importance. He was loathe to leave his desk a mess, lest anyone should happen into his office and think him a disorganized slob. He couldn’t allow people to see him as anything less than he was: an uber-successful adman with potential to spare.

  He boarded the elevator and began his ascent to the top floor. There was something about himself that he didn’t quite understand, a funk that he couldn’t shake. He knew that it was ridiculous, but his mind kept drifting back to the girl that he saw last night. He remembered how he averted his gaze when she caught him looking at her. There was no reason to feel ashamed or embarrassed, he was Neville Pearson. He could have any girl he wanted.

  But shame accompanied that last thought. She was not like any other girl. She wasn’t a conquest or a trophy. She was special. He kicked himself for not being manly enough to go over there and get her number; even though she probably wouldn’t have given it to him anyways. She would have seen right through his pretentiousness and laughed him aside. She deserved better than him.

  Neville seized control of his thoughts. Any girl would be lucky to have him. Where was his confidence going? These feelings of inadequacy were new and frightening. There really wasn’t enough evidence to support him not going to the nuthouse and checking himself in for an evaluation.

  The elevator doors slid open and Neville turned right and headed to the end of the hall where his father’s office occupied a great deal of the corner of that floor. There were actually two parts to the office. The first part was inhabited by a horrible old woman sitting at the desk, waiting for people to come in like a troll waits under a bridge for unsuspecting toll-payers. She had the sunny disposition of a rattlesnake whose tail had just been stepped on after resurging from its hole and recovering from a long bout with the flu.

  Margery was her name. Neville didn’t really know how old she was. Her appearance seemed to age her beyond her years as untold decades of smoking had left her skin wrinkled and saggy, giving her the unfortunate visage of a shar-pei. She never spoke first, giving whoever dared enter her domain the uncomfortable task of announcing themselves and their intentions. Neville was used to this and had no problem sounding his own arrival.

  “I’m here to see Stanley.”

  “And who may I say is here?” Her voice was more abrasive than her personality.

  “It’s me, Neville. His son.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  Neville shook his head at the absurdity of the questioning. He put his hands on the desk, ready to lay into the crazy hag when the door to his left opened and his father stepped into the room.

  “It’s ok, Margery. I’ll see him now.”

  She simply nodded her head, the wrinkles on her face sagging and recoiling with the movement. He followed his father into the office and shut the door behind him.

  “You really should think about getting a new secretary. No offense, but I think it’s time to put old Margery out to pasture.” He laughed to himself at the inference that Margery was a cow, but quickly regained composure.

  “Oh, she’s harmless. She’s been with the company for years. I can’t just let her go.”

  “Well if you’re waiting for her to die, I’m afraid she might outlive you. She’s got enough alcohol in her that she’s well preserved from the inside out. I don’t know how the tobacco hasn’t killed her yet. Maybe she’s like a cockroach and will outlive us all.”

  Stanley let a little chuckle out into the air, like a single bubble released from a wand, suspended for a moment then popping to reveal emptiness and silence once again.

  “Sit down, Neville. I’ve got something important for you.”

  He took his seat across the desk from Stanley, crossed his legs and waited.

  “There’s a new player in the world of smart phones, a guy named Niroki. Supposedly he’s got a product that will put all previous smart phones to shame, the iphone, android; whatever else they’ve got out there these days. Either way, you’re pretty good with the technology accounts, being younger than a lot of the other guys, so I want you to take the lead on this one.”

  “Great. When’s he
coming in?”

  “Well, here’s the thing. We don’t have the account yet.” Neville looked a little confused at this revelation. “We just got word that he’s shopping around for an agency and I want you to go to him first, kind of a preemptive strike, if you will.”

  “You want me to cold-call him?” Stanley didn’t like the implication that his son was too good to do the leg work.

  “This is how it was done back in the day, Neville. This is what built this company. I didn’t have people walking up to me, begging me to represent them. I had to go out and fight for it. It would do you good to get out there and do the same.”

  Neville considered this for a moment. Then: “How much is he looking to spend?”

  “That’s the best part.” An almost girlish giggle preceded Stanley’s next thought. “He wants to launch a billion dollar, world-wide campaign.”

  Stanley laughed, Neville sat motionless. A billion dollar campaign. World-wide. This was the stuff that made dreams come true. This could set him up for the rest of his life. He stood from his chair, dumbly nodded his head, and went to the door. As he opened it to leave, Stanley called to him.

  “Listen to me, Neville. This is a once-in-a-lifetime account. I’m putting myself on the line here by recommending you for the job. Don’t let me down.”

  Another dumb nod and Neville left the office. Passing Margery he heard her say, “Have a nice day.” Which, coming from her, sounded more like an insult than a pleasant dismissal. He mindlessly waved a hand in her direction as if attempting to wave goodbye, then walked out the door.

  The elevator couldn’t go any slower. Neville shifted and fidgeted, nervous and excited all at once. There would be so much to get started on, strategies to plan, proposals to draw up. He didn’t wait for the doors to fully open on his floor as he slid from the elevator and immediately began yelling for Sammy.

  He made a bee-line for his office, yelling the entire way. “SAMMY!” The staff could do nothing more than stare in wonderment. Perhaps he had finally lost his mind. It wouldn’t have surprised any of them. In truth, they had been expecting his mental collapse for years. It was only a matter of time before the pressure of being the senior partner’s son would weigh on him to the point of breaking him.

  Neville arrived at his office door at the same time that Sammy, panting and sweating, came running up.

  “What’s up?” The words came out as a whisper as Sammy bent over with exhaustion, like he had just finished a marathon.

  “Wow. You really need to start working out,” Neville said with raised eyebrows.

  “It’s a big floor and all I had to go on was your voice. You could have said, ‘meet me in my office,’ or ‘don’t hurry, just get here when you can.’ But running through the office screaming my name? Of course I’m gonna come running.”

  “Come in here. We have some work to do.”

  Neville led Sammy into the office and shut the door behind him.

  6

  “Here’s some coffee for you.”

  Although she hadn’t drunk anything the previous night, Victoria didn’t get any sleep either. Every time she dozed off, her subconscious treated her to a slide show of how life would be for her when ATA finally closed its doors for good. Unwilling to dwell on those sorts of defeatist thoughts, she instead spent her evening playing solitaire on the computer and looking up recipes with unique ingredients like opossum and durian fruit.

  But Sarah was ready for anything. Knowing her friend and predicting the sleepless night, she had brewed an especially potent pot of coffee that morning and had stopped on her way to work to buy Victoria’s favorite creamer, International Delight’s Salted Caramel Mocha. Needless to say, Victoria was enraptured by the thoughtful surprise and grateful to God for bringing Sarah into her life.

  “Thank you, Sarah. I needed this this morning.”

  “I figured you wouldn’t be able to leave well-enough alone until morning, so I thought you could use a cup of cheer-me-up.”

  “I had some pretty terrible dreams last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about us being homeless. I know it sounds stupid, but I really do wonder if it’s about time to start thinking about a career change.”

  Sarah didn’t have a chance to respond as the intercom buzzed in, interrupting the conversation.

  “Victoria, can you please come into my office?”

  Mr. Richter’s voice was as weak and frail as his body. He was old enough to remember first-hand accounts of the Great Depression and had fought in both World Wars. But unlike a lot of war veterans, he didn’t hold onto his military experience, or persona. Instead, he adorned a personality much more akin to a cheery grandpa with just a hint of dementia.

  Victoria liked the old man. His general naivety was overshadowed by his love for people and his compassion for others. She knew that she could run ATA much more efficiently than he could, but she couldn’t bring herself to ever bring up the subject of his retirement or buying him out.

  She knocked on the office door, but no answer. Mr. Richter’s hearing was not what it used to be. She gently opened the door a crack and peeked in. Mr. Richter was sitting at his desk, his head nodding as he dozed peacefully from the comfort of his chair.

  “Mr. Richter?”

  He didn’t stir. His office was small, more of a glass-encased cubicle than a proper office, but he kept it homey and inviting. Victoria placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder and gently shook him awake.

  “Mr. Richter.”

  “Huh? Oh…Hello, Victoria.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Richter.”

  “Good morning, Victoria. What can I do for you today?”

  She smiled. “I’m not sure, sir. You asked me to come see you.”

  “I did? Oh…Well what did I want to talk to you about?”

  “You didn’t say, sir.”

  “I see.”

  Mr. Richter started shuffling through the papers in front of him. For being so old, his hands were amazingly dexterous with no traces of Rheumatoid Arthritis. His mind, on the other hand, showed all the signs of packing to go on a permanent vacation.

  “Ah. Here it is. Yes. There’s an account that I would like you to pursue.” He handed her a sheet of paper which she took and began to peruse.

  “Niroki Industries?”

  “Uh…Yes. They make these smart phones that are supposed to be the bee’s knees. They are looking for a world-wide campaign, worth somewhere around a billion dollars.”

  “Did you say billion? With a B?”

  “What? Oh, yes. I suppose I did. Do you think you could set up a meeting with him and try to get him to advertise with us?”

  “I’ll do my best, Mr. Richter.”

  “I know you will, Victoria. I don’t worry about much when you’re around.”

  “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”

  Mr. Richter nodded his head, partly in agreement, partly because he was nodding off again. Victoria took her cue from his sinking eyelids and left the office. She went over to Sarah’s desk, a look of shock on her face. Sarah watched in horror, sure that something bad had happened. Victoria fell into the chair opposite Sarah and stared unblinking at the paper still in her hand.

  “Are you ok?”

  Victoria didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t take a breath.

  “Victoria?”

  Still no response. Sarah gently reached across the desk and pulled the paper out of Victoria’s grip. Looking at the sheet, she realized what it was.

  “Victoria. You got the Niroki account? That’s huge!”

  She finally spoke. “No. Didn’t get it. Have to get it.”

  “What?”

  “I have to meet with him.”

  “Who? Niroki?”

  Victoria blinked away her stupor. “He’s shopping for an ad agency to help him promote his company’s newest smart phone.”

  “That’s great.”

  “He wants to spend a billion on the campaign. Take it world-wide.”

&nbs
p; Now it was Sarah’s turn for stupor. A billion was a number that Sarah couldn’t comprehend. That kind of money would solve every problem they’ve ever had. But first they had to get it.

  “So, what’s the plan?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t even know where to start. How can I possibly get a billion dollar contract when I could barely convince the Shawarma Palace to advertise with us?”