Page 22 of The Change
“I believe we’re all here to talk new business.” Harriett took a seat in one of the office’s white leather chairs that no woman would have chosen. “And I’m the new business director. We don’t need Max for this, so let’s start. Who’s running the meeting?”
“I am.” Andrew Howard slid forward on the couch. He was a smarmy little asshole, Harriett thought. He couldn’t have cared less about the quality of the work, but he possessed a remarkable homing instinct for steak houses, golf courses, and strip clubs. Max liked him because he kept the clients happy—and happy clients didn’t call Max. “While you were out, we were invited to take part in two pitches. First up is Pura-Tea. It’s a new line of sparkling teas from Coke. They want to bring women over thirty back with the promise of great taste and health benefits. They’re pretty confident in the strategy, and they’re keen to see work. Chris and his teams have a few things to show us.”
“Anyone actually try the product?” Harriett asked.
“Yeah,” said the strategist. “It underdelivers on taste, so we’ve focused on health benefits.”
“Are there any real health benefits?” Harriett asked.
“No sugar, great hydration, and loaded with antioxidants.”
“What the fuckareantioxidants?” Harriett joked. “Anyone know?”
Andrew snorted and shrugged. The others in the room shook their heads.
“So basically we’re selling shitty carbonated water with a few vitamins thrown in.”
“That’s why they need advertising,” Chris chimed in. “Shitty carbonated water won’t sell itself. We’re going to convince these women it’s what they’ve been missing all their lives.”
Harriett spun around to face him. “So brilliant,” she gushed. Men in advertising loved to explain how it all worked. “Max said you were a genius. I can’t wait to see what you’ve got. Is that it?” She pointed to a tall stack of foam boards lying facedown on Chris’s desk. The message was clear. She wasn’t interested in a lecture on advertising.
The smile he gave her wasn’t terribly warm or friendly. She made sure the smile she offered in return was pure light and joy.
“Yeah, so I have four ideas to show you this morning.” Chris grabbed the first board off the stack on his desk and turned it over to reveal an illustrated frame from a video ad. A very young woman in a very small bathing suit lay by a glistening blue pool surrounded by forest, a bottle of Pura-Tea on the rocks beside her.
“Fuck, this isn’t the spot I wanted to start with. Andrew, can you rearrange these like I asked?”
As Andrew leaped from the sofa like a well-trained puppy, Harriett pointed at the image of the bikini-clad girl.
“You said they’re going after women over thirty. How old is the woman in the picture supposed to be?” Harriett inquired. “The illustration makes her look sixteen.”
“It’s meant to be an aspirational image of our female audience,” Chris explained. “Fit, gorgeous, and healthy.”
It was funny, Harriett thought. Twenty-five years in advertising, and the aspirational female had never changed. It was always whoever the art director wanted to screw. And, equally serendipitously, she could only be found in places the creative team wanted to travel.
“Women over thirty don’t aspire to be sixteen,” Harriett said. “We can be fit, gorgeous, and healthy at any age. Plus, once we hit thirty, a lot of us can afford a fuck-ton of overpriced iced tea.”
“Let’s not get hung up on the casting right now,” Chris said, handing the boards to Andrew. “Just imagine our heroines the way you’d like to see them.”
“As badass bitches who keep the world running and never get their due?” Harriett asked.
Chris glared at her. “Sure,” he said. “Why not.”
“Great!” Harriett said. “I love it already.”
Andrew passed a set of rearranged boards back to Chris, who plucked several off the top of the pile and held the first up for his guests to see. Fortunately, the ad he’d chosen to start with didn’t feature a half-clad teenager, but rather a plain wooden door.
“So,” Chris said, looking down at the board. “We open with the camera locked on the door of an apartment. The door’s a bit scuffed and the paint’s peeling in places. It’s clearly the kind of apartment you had in your twenties.” He moved on to the second board. “Then we see a young man strut down the hall with a bottle of wine in one hand. He knocks at the door, and a pretty girl opens up and drags him inside. The next time the door opens, he’s coming out. There’s no wine bottle in his hand, and his clothes and hair are rumpled. He’s obviously spent the night.”
He let the board drop, revealing another illustration of the original door.
“We watch as the door gets dingier and more scuffed, markingthe passage of time. As we’re watching, a different guy shows up and knocks at the door. The door opens, and the same girl throws her arms around him and pulls him inside. He, too, leaves after spending the night.”
Chris was smiling as though he couldn’t wait to get to a punch line.
“So we see the same thing happen a couple more times. It’s always a different guy and the same girl. Each time she waves goodbye the next morning, she seems a little less satisfied. The last time, she stays at the door, looking a bit miserable. There’s a bottle of Pura-Tea in her hand. The camera moves in close as she lifts it to her lips. We see her skin sparkle as the purifying antioxidants work their magic. When the camera pulls back again, she’s framed not by a doorway but a wedding arch, and we see she’s wearing a flowing white bridal gown. One hand is holding her new husband’s hand. The other is still clutching the bottle of Pura-Tea. The tagline appears: ‘Pura-Fide.’”
Chris burst into laughter, and the rest of them instantly followed suit.
