“The early results on the In the Books Accounting campaign are promising. I like how your heads worked together on that, where you guys went with it. It was unique. Unexpected. Clever. Endearing.” Asher’s eyes widen in surprise at the ample praise, but that’s just because he hasn’t worked directly with my father yet. “We’ve got another client on the Mitchell Media side who’s in a bit of a rut. I think we could use your guys’ brilliance on that one, too. Needs a fresh perspective.”
When we both listen and nod in tacit agreement, he goes on to tell us a bit about the client, the project, the struggle the traditional side has been having with them. How they aren’t seeing the results they’d hoped. He asks if their account manager sends us all the info we need, if we can have a campaign concept and a few initial designs to him by the end of next week, and after Asher and I make brief eye contact, we both nod in agreement.
“I’m not jeopardizing the In the Books campaign, or another client, by asking for your help on this, am I?”
“No, Thomas, we are a good three weeks ahead of schedule on In the Books, and we can balance this new one in and amongst the others we’re working on.” Asher’s eyes dart to mine, I think at the way I called my father by his first name, but he stays quiet.
“Okay, good. I like to hear that! If we need to adjust Asher’s workload in the mornings, whoever else he’s apprenticing under in that time to focus on this, you let me know and I’ll arrange that. This is a priority account for us. A legacy account, even if it’s not exactly the highest paying one, and we need to show them that we’ve evolved with the times, we can keep up with the markets and trends. Make them proud they’ve stuck with Mitchell Media for decades.”
“You got it,” I say decisively. “We’ll do a Brain Spark and get into it here shortly.”
“Thanks kids.” Thomas takes off for the door again, stopping right before he walks through to turn around and shoot me a quick appreciative smile.
There are times I’d be annoyed at my schedule, my deadlines, my life being co-opted by a client fromthe other sideas I’ve come to think of them (even if I technically help run that side of things, too). But as I glance back to the guy sitting in front of me, the look of interest on his face, I find I’m actually looking forward to proving how good of a job Darling can do. I think the next couple weeks are going to be fun.
NINE
ELLIE
“I’ve got something.”
“Hit me.” He gestures at me by crooking his fingers. “Let’s hear it.”
“It’s not like they’ve got a huge budget, so we’ve got to be clever here.” We’re a few days into the project Thomas put us on, and I think I’ve finally got it.
“Mmhmm, mmhmm.” He nods his head encouragingly, with an almost languid enthusiasm, if you can picture that. This kid is a mix all his own, I tell ya.
“It’s not like they’ve got the budget of In the Books, we can’t just do an entire campaign of custom artwork. And, I mean, we can just blindly advertise their food to people in a certain radius of the pizza shop. That’s going to have some success no matter what.”
“Mmhmm,” he repeats, still nodding, picking up what I’m putting down.
“But what if we isolate people in that area who like pizza, a precursor to the other ads? Like stage one, we do a cute illustration, another little Asher original comic, if you will, that endears people tothisparticular pizza place. Then, stage two, we target the people who engaged with that post, and focus our ad spend on those pizza-loving, cute-comic-appreciating souls.”
Believe it or not, there’s still plenty of businesses who haven’t begun marketing to potential customers digitally. I know, I know, my mind was blown, too. Apparently people still do flyers, posters, newspaper and magazine ads, even if the days of the yellow pages are ancient lore. Asher probably doesn’t even know what a phone book is. Might not even have used one as a booster seat when he was a wee little tyke. If that doesn’t make me feel like a dinosaur…
“Ooooh.” He purses his lips, sucks in a breath through them, and slaps his hand down on my desk. “I like it. But I have one question. Alfredo’s Pizza Cafe? Or Pizza by Alfredo?”
The Officereference doesn’t pass me by, and I don’t miss a beat. “It’s like eating a hot circle of garbage,” I say in my best Kevin impression.
He smirks, but gets back to the task at hand. “Maybe we do some memes in stage one, too? Milk their budget?”
The fact that heonejust went right back to work, immediately after making a joke and didn’t get distracted and talk for twenty minutes until I had to send him back to work (like most staff in our office under forty do, constantly looking for a way to get out of working), andtwojust thought of a way to bring this idea to life in a way that is best for the client, not what’s going to make our firm the most money in all of this, something inside me just melted a little bit right now.
I think it’s professional respect that’s crystallizing around that Asher-specific spot within my brain. All the mental notes I’ve made on him these past weeks, all the ways I read him right, and the ways he’s surprised me still, and this might just be my favorite one so far.
I add conscientious to the tally of his traits, and another tick in thecleverandresponsiblecolumns, and grin right back at him.
“Love that thought. Let’s start putting together some ideas on those.”
* * *
I don’t knowwhat it is. Maybe something’s in the air? Lately I’m just finding myself in better and better moods. Feeling like this version of myself I forgot used to exist. That she was the norm, this youthful, vibrant gal who was dorky enough to say words likegalbut cheerful and genuine enough that you wouldn’t make fun of her for it.
I’ve got more energy. More smiles to share, and thus get back in return. I caught myself not quite skipping, but something with more embarrassing flare than just normal walking, down the hallway yesterday. It’s like I’ve got sixty percent morelifeinside of my veins. It’s bubbling out of me, this palpable energy that’s so distinctly Ellie, erupting into my immediate atmosphere, just everywhere I go recently. I forgot what that was like.
Things aren’t resolved with David yet. I’m still crossing my fingers and toes that our most recent talk was enough to bring about the kind of developments I’ve been hoping for with that. But between the hope for the future on that front, how well things have been going at work, and this renewed vigor, this extra pep in my step—God, I really do sound like a fifties cheerleader, ignore me—I’m just really enjoying life right now. Even more than usual.
In the days since our initial Brain Spark on this new project, Asher and I have been cracking each other up, sending the stupidest memes about pizza we can find to one another. When we’re in the office, it’s a nudge of an elbow, the flick of a wrist to show the phone screen to one another, each find stupider or dirtier than the last. If it’s the morning, when he’s working under one of the graphic designers out in the main workspace, sometimes my phone or computer will light up with an incoming AirDrop. Or, like tonight, when it’s after hours, we’ve taken to sending ones that just can’t wait until tomorrow by email. By the way, almostnoneof these memes are good candidates for the client’s social, but they are hilarious, and we are making good progress on our proposal, so I don’t mind the occasional chuckle on the clock.
