Page 79 of Ask Me Something

Chapter Sixteen

It was like every other pitch day. I arrived early at the client site, excused myself to go to the restroom, and there pulled my hair back quickly while upchucking breakfast into the toilet in front of me. Thankfully, I was alone in the women’s bathroom. But even if I hadn’t been, I’d long ago perfected the art of keeping quiet. Putting a few seat covers over the top of the water helped muffle the sound and minimized the splashing. The last thing I needed was to have anything land on my Jimmy Choo shoes or conservative, “consultant approved,” black Chanel suit. I’d learned over the years to eat something starchy and drink a lot of water. It hurt my throat less that way and came up a lot easier. As an added bonus, I wouldn’t have the calories later.

Great, now I was thinking like a bulimic teenage girl. If only it was that easily controlled, I thought and then winced. Oh, sure, judge someone else’s disorder while I battled my own on a daily basis. Nice one, Sasha.

I steadied my breathing and visualized the pitch deck I was about to give the clients. I didn’t think of Vanessa being insecure around women. I didn’t think about the dress code or Brian. Instead, I cleared my mind and proceeded into the zone like I always did.

But first always came this. After flushing, I came out of the stall, pulled the toothbrush from my purse for a quick brush, touched up my makeup, and put in my earbuds. My song choice for today was a personal favorite: “Titanium” by David Guetta. I let the words wash over me for the duration of the three minute song and took a final look at myself. I was the vice president for Gamble Advertising out of the New York office for a reason. I was successful, confident, and I would kill this presentation. I visualized it, rolled my shoulders, and put on my game face.

Coming out of the ladies’ room, I smoothed down my long skirt and then walked the short distance back to the reception area. There I smiled at Charlie and Logan, who were waiting, and reassured them that everyone would do great.

Brian joined us in the lobby a couple minutes later. I’d been relieved that he hadn’t come in last night as I was neurotic when it came to pitch day and didn’t want the distraction. I’d always heard about NFL players having quirky traditions or throwing up before the big day. Well, this was my playoffs, and I was the quarterback. The pitch was my sweet spot, and we’d been preparing for weeks. I was damn good at it, and now that I’d put my anxiety into a box, the adrenaline was kicking in. I was ready.

We all filed into the conference room. It was show time. Introductions were made, and I officially met Vanessa. She was upper-thirties, petite in stature, with dark brown hair pulled back in a severe bun. She wore a low-cut blouse paired with a designer jacket, skirt, and leopard print pumps. Yeah, leopard. Clearly no one had ever done a survey dictating that she wear something conservative.

The board in attendance was made up of five gentlemen, all white-haired and dressed in black or navy suits. The man in charge was named Michael Dobson. He’d served as CEO of Tryon Pharmaceuticals for the last ten years and only recently retired to become the chairman of the board. I knew about each of these men, their biographies, their work history, and anything else I could dig up.

My advertising pitch deck followed a well-known formula of five stages or steps. The first step was where Brian did most of the talking. Since he was the senior person, he took care of the introductions and talked about the credentials of Gamble Advertising as a whole. His voice was melodic, and he was straight and to the point. The second step was to throw the ball over to me for our focus on strategy. This was where we sold the idea that this was a niche of the market in which we’d proven ourselves. It was a stretch, however, considering we’d only worked with one pharmaceutical company, and it was quite a bit smaller than Tryon. It wasn’t normal practice to field questions during this part of the presentation, however it happened often enough. I’d prepared, considering Vanessa was the type of woman who’d want to make her presence known early on.

“You only have the one other pharmaceutical company?” she inquired, tapping her pen.

I smiled. “Yes, only one, however we have two home health care accounts. And, instead of having to split creativity amongst several identical pharmaceutical companies, all of the ingenuity would be focused on yours.”

She looked like she was about to speak again but was interrupted by the chairman, Mr. Dobson. “Very good answer, Ms. Brooks. Please continue.”

Good to know she didn’t have control over the board. But considering these gentlemen wouldn’t be present for most client meetings and discussions, it wasn’t going to do much good later. Moving on to stage three, we provided the meat of the presentation, the creative pitch. Logan presented the magazine ad concepts, and Charlie moved into the television campaign proposal. Then it was back to me to discuss the miscellaneous ad space, which included stadiums and airports. We expected questions and comments during this section. I noticed Vanessa only addressed her questions to the men on the team.

Once she was finished, Mr. Dobson, the chairman, took his turn while thumbing through the presentation packet in front of him. “Tell me, Ms. Brooks, why did you target the Dallas Cowboys’ stadium specifically for an ad?”

My smile came easily. “Mr. Dobson, the Dallas Cowboys are the most televised team in America, giving you the best camera time for your ad. It’s also a newer stadium and the largest, which means that the film crew is panning around to show the home-viewing audience a glimpse of it more often than in an older stadium. And, last but not least, considering you have season tickets, where better to see evidence of your company’s ad dollars than where you can do business with potential investors?”

His wide grin let me know my homework had not been in vain. “Very nice, Ms. Brooks. Now tell me how you think the Cowboys will do this year?”

I paused, pretending to think about it. “I believe losing Demarco Murray will be a large hole, and the jury is out on whether or not McFadden and Randle can replace that gap. Between the two of them, my money is on McFadden to be the starter, but the real question is if they can keep their offensive line healthy. Without that, you’ll have an injured quarterback with a domino effect. Of course, defense is where it’s going to make a difference if they can have the same sort of year as the last one with takeovers. If you ask me, Tyron Crawford is underrated and this could be his breakout year.” And thank you, Daddy, not only for my love of the game, but also for teaching me the best strategy for dealing with most men: football. He’d always said that you could fundamentally be at odds with a man politically or religiously, but if you could talk football, all the other stuff wouldn’t matter.

“It takes a lot to surprise me, Ms. Brooks. We may need to fly you out for a game.” Smiling, he looked toward his fellow board members, of which I knew two of the three also held Dallas Cowboys season tickets.

“That would be a dream, Mr. Dobson,” I replied graciously.

Turning back to my team, I noticed that Logan’s gaze was akin to hero worship. Charlie looked impressed, and Brian’s eyes showed unfiltered amusement.

Vanessa, however, had a sour expression on her face.

The fourth stage was my least favorite: the budget. Clients didn’t typically like to spend money, but since the six-million-dollar figure on the table had been offered up before we’d prepared the pitch, the board didn’t bat a lash at our estimates. Finally, after no further questions, we proceeded to the summary or the final step of the presentation. Charlie and Logan hit their cues flawlessly, and we killed it.

The only personal hitch to the entire thing had been watching Vanessa eye fuck Brian. She was an attractive woman who was not hurting for confidence, hanging on his every word and lingering with innocent touches as we made our goodbyes.

We would find out in the next couple of weeks if we’d made the cut to the next round. There was always the chance we wouldn’t win the business, but I was confident that we’d left it all on the field. And the football metaphors stayed on the brain.

* * *

After arriving backin my office, I felt the adrenaline start to evaporate from the high of the pitch, and I was left exhausted. It mentally and physically drained me every time. Coffee was the only thing keeping me awake at this point. Thankfully, Brian had gone without me to meet Josh for lunch, and I’d let Charlie and Logan go home early with high praise for their efforts. My intention was to head out soon, too. I didn’t know what time Brian would come over, but I was hoping for an hour to take a nap or, at the very least, grab another caffeinated beverage to catch my second wind.

I let Nancy know I’d be leaving soon and was about to grab my things when she buzzed me.

“Ms. Brooks, there is a Ms. Jamie Morgan in reception, asking to see you.”

I was stunned. What in the hell would Brian’s one-time girlfriend be doing here? “Uh, please tell the receptionist that I’m finishing a meeting and then retrieve Ms. Morgan in ten minutes.” I might not have the energy deal with her, but I’d be damned if I’d let her have the gratification of intimidating me on my own turf.

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