Page 5 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

Chapter Two

AN ENGLISHMAN IN NEW YORK

George

In my experience meetings can fall into two categories. Dull and deathly dull.

Presentations on the other hand, especially where the main objective is to unveil an ad campaign that will land the client, well, I will move mountains to ensure they never fall into either category.

I like to think of them as the place where preparation, creativity and adrenalin come together to create something beautiful.

The presentation I’m currently in the middle of was representative of this. Until I realise, I don’t quite have a handle on what is happening…

For example, Tim Duggins is either on schedule and talking about algorithms and budgets for influencer marketing and I’ve suddenly lost the ability to understand Advertising 101, or he has decided to really spark my adrenalin by speaking in Klingon. As he really isn’t the type to mix things up during a presentation we’ve been honing for weeks, I can only conclude the problem lies with me.

Maybe I could concentrate better if my chair hadn’t suddenly developed the ergonomic properties of custard.

What. The. Hell.

In a move so mind-bendingly slo-mo I could be in a Matrix movie I lean back against the chair’s mesh backing. I feel weird. Like I’m falling through space.

At the absurdity of the sensation, I sit up straight, grip the edge of the table and wheel my chair in as close to it as possible.

‘What do you think, George?’

What do I think, Tim? I think something is very wrong.

Obviously, I can’t say that in the middle of a presentation that’s supposed to secure me my next promotion. Can’t even allude to it. This is why I need to shake it off and concentrate on nailing the campaign’s objectives so the client is salivating to sign with us.

I stare at Tim and realise he’s speaking again.

My hearing seems to be coming in and out.

I put this together with the feeling of being off-balance and … okay … what makes most sense is that I have an inner-ear infection?

‘George?’

‘Sorry, Tim.’ I glance at the PowerPoint slide and deliver a sentence calculated to make our prospective client, Mr. Yeong of Yeong Cosmetics, look good. ‘Regarding CTA,’ I say, ‘I agree with Mr. Yeong. “Verbifying” our campaign isn’t going to speak to the demographic we’ve identified – which is why we’ve come up with a clear market-specific message.’ As I illuminate Mr. Yeong and the rest of the meeting attendees on how we went about that, I can’t help feeling that the head of the cosmetics company doesn’t look like he’s been ill a day in his life.

Me neither by the way.

Not since I was thirteen.

So if, by some galactically poor timing, I am to be ill … well, I can’t be.

Not today.

Not in this room. With its glass walls meant to denote status and sophistication but which only highlight the miles of cables needed for the huge projection screen they forgot to build in and the fact that the WiFi signal is rubbish.

God, what is it with this heat? It’s pulsing and radiating out of me like I’m some super-hero in a comic tapping into my talent. My face feels like it’s on fire and now I am actually worried a colleague will remark on it.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Anya’s head swivel in my direction.

Damn.

To anyone else, Anya looks politely enquiring, but if they knew her like I know her, they’d be reading her expression as, What’s the deal, George? Make the deal, George.

I throw her a smile, clear my throat and man up. ‘Now that Tim’s gone over the benefits of signing with our agency today, why don’t I get to what we’re really here for. Let’s begin with unveiling our new strapline…’ I pause for effect, allowing time for Mr. Yeong and his entourage to lean an anticipatory bit closer to the large screen in front of them. ‘Can I have the next slide, please,’ I say, and then watch as the screen reveals the new skincare product range with the strapline: Forever Yeong.

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