Page 89 of Babies at Coconuts

Chapter 62

I hate Mondays. Since the bank car was in use, Alex drove her Mustang to the print shop. At a light, she scribbled down her mileage on the back of the vendor’s business card.

It was a warm, sunshine-filled day which always made her drive a little too fast. Observing the road in front and checking the rearview mirror for potential police officers, she sped up and reached over to turn on some music. Scrolling through local radio stations, she heard the Show-Me Bank jingle followed by ear-shattering rap music. She bristled.

Oh, my God. I can’t believe this. Hannah never told me she finalized the radio spots. Now, they’re on the freaking airwaves.

Trying to calm her nerves, Alex turned the air conditioning up to full blast, found a station playing a bluesy song, and cranked the volume. Just as her blood pressure began to normalize, another head banging bank radio ad played yet again. Her stomach churned. Before the thirty-second spot ended, Alex picked up the phone and dialed her office’s direct line.

“Marketing,” Hannah chirped. “This is Hannah.”

“What the hell were you thinking using that shitty music?”

“What shitty music?”

Alex pictured her intern’s feet on her desk. Blood boiling, she said, “You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play dumb. That shitty rap crap background music you used for our freaking bank anniversary ads.”

Hannah huffed. “What’s wrong with rap? Show-Me Bank needs to engage younger customers.”

“I’m on my way to the office. Don’t leave.” Alex hung up, drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, and raced to work. Within minutes, she punched in the back door code and rushed to her office.

“Get out of my chair.”

“Well, well.” Hannah moved like a turtle to a seat across from Alex’s desk.

In an attempt to maintain her composure since her office walls were glass, Alex took a deep breath and lowered her voice. “Hannah, do they discuss targeted marketing in college?”

“Of course.”

Alex folded her arms. “And it means?”

Hannah froze. “I know what it means. You aren’t my professor.”

Alex leaned back. “Go ahead. Tell me what targeted marketing means.”

Hannah typed a few keys into her iPad.

“Are you Googling the answer? Stop. Hell, I’ll just tell you. The bottom line of targeted marketing is finding the appropriate audience for your goods or service. We provide a service. We’re a financial institution.”

Hannah pouted. “I know what a bank is. My daddy’s the—”

“President. Yes, I know. Tell me. Who is our target market?”

Glaring, Hannah said, “Apparently you have all of the answers so why don’t you stop playing games.”

Alex motioned with her index finger. “Follow me.”

“What?”

“Follow me into the lobby.” Alex stepped toward the customer area and glanced back at Hannah. “Come on. This will only take a minute.”

Begrudgingly, the young intern stomped behind Alex as she greeted long-time customers, stopped to shake their hands, introduced Hannah, showed a few to new accounts, and others to tellers or the appropriate loan officer. She got a cup of coffee for one customer and held a door for a woman with a walker.

When they eventually made their way back to Alex’s office, she asked, “What did you learn?”

Hannah slumped in her seat. “Stop with the pop quiz and tell me already.”

Alex did her best not to smirk. “Our target audience skews older. We don’t cater to millennials—not that we don’t want their business—it’s just that most of them bank online or use debit cards. Our long-time customers and board members, for that matter, are in the fifty-plus age group. Older Baby Boomers. In fact, most are over sixty-five and many aren’t exactly tech-savvy, so we still need to market using many different methods, not just online. Didn’t they teach you about targeted marketing in your master’s classes?”

Hannah huffed. “Whatever. I’m just trying to drag you into the Twenty-first Century.”

“Always consider the customer. I’m all for higher education, but step out of the classroom and look away from the textbooks to get a feel for your customer base.” Alex grinned. “Class is now over.” Feeling victorious, she texted her friends and asked if they could meet at Coconuts. All but Cheri said they’d be there within the hour.

---