Page 63 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

Except maybe more work?

At this point I may as well.

Bit hungry, I think, rubbing a hand over my stomach while padding over to the kitchen. The pasta was good but I should have made more, or at least not forgotten about it while working, so that I was forced to eat it cold. I open the fridge and see that I also seem to have eaten all the cheddar Ashleigh got me. Grabbing my phone from the counter I decide to google where Oscars is as what I really need is some of those brownies. I note the location and then realise it’s 3am and so they’re probably shut.

With a sigh I head over to my desk, sit down and reach over to switch on the lamp. Tim’s notes about the account he’s hoping to land are in front of me. They’re not too bad. His strategy isn’t risk-free but didn’t I used to like risky? Or, as I used to call it when I had his job, boundary-pushing and creatively innovative.

Was I right to tell him to tone down and re-focus on some of the product’s strengths? To be honest I’d have preferred not going after another client in the food industry but as Tim took the time to point out, we didn’t get the Perfect Pies account, so what’s the problem?

Noodles.

That’s what the account is for.

To be specific, sweet noodles.

As in for dessert.

I crick my neck left and then right. Pull out a piece of blank paper. Grab my pen. And, for kicks, (and, let’s face it, to keep my ego intact), prepare to brainstorm other ideas. Creatively innovative ideas.

Ten minutes later I haven’t come up with anything half as good as Tim. I push back from my desk, drop to the floor and do fifty press-ups to get the blood pumping. Back in my chair for another ten minutes of brainstorming and, nope, still nothing.

I open my desk drawer and take out the crossword puzzle Ashleigh left me.

There are three clues left.

I’ve been rationing them.

Briefly I consider leaving her a clue about sweet noodles but can’t help feeling however many letters the clue was for she’d turn the answer into a distinct: Yuck.

I make this giant leap of intuition because it turns out that that was the answer to the clue she wrote for me, to let me know her opinion on tasting Marmite for the first time. I mean, I get it. Marmite isn’t for everyone. Maybe sweet noodles for me are like Marmite is for her?

I wonder what Anya would come up with for this campaign and realise her angle would be whichever provided the best evidence for uptake. Is this where I’m going wrong? I’m running my department like an extension of my old job. I’m doing less direct work on the creative side and finding that transition awkward.

I put the crossword back in the drawer until I’ve come at this pitch from every angle but after trying all my usual methods of word association and listing lifestyle indicators all I’ve done is heavily circle the best social media platform to utilise where in one search I immediately see lots of different takes on sweet noodle dishes. It’s already a case of target audience being targeted.

As my palms try and mash my eyes into the back of my skull in an attempt to banish the fatigue, I don’t know … I can’t help feeling that lately, this all feels so … irrelevant?

My heart thumps heavily and then, at the sound of my phone, I jump a mile. I swear if I didn’t have an issue with my heart before, I’m doing everything to give myself one now. What the hell time is it anyway that my phone is ringing? I squint at the phone screen.

5am.

Terrific.

Nothing to show for two hours’ supposed work except a feeling of consuming negativity.

‘Yes?’ I bark into the phone. I hear my tone. Alsatian dog? Most unlike me.

‘So, have you put a ring on it, yet?’

Hearing my brother, Marcus, immediately some of the negativity dissipates. Except, hang on a minute, being asked if I’ve “put a ring on it,” is never a line I would have expected my brother to utter.

Not only that, answering that I haven’t put a ring on Anya’s finger yet forces me to think about the fact that she didn’t stop by after her meeting and it never even registered.

‘Bro?’ Marcus asks.

‘What? No. No, I haven’t put a ring on it, yet.’

‘Well, I have!’

---