SLOW HANDS

The doors opened and, relieved, Timothy stepped out and led her down the hallway and finally, to his office where he offered her a chair before walking to the other side of the office where he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Coffee?” he asked her.

“Yeah sure. We can drink and talk,” she said. “I’m not using props or anything, and I planned it to be more conversational than a formal presentation.”

He nodded approvingly, and moved to his chair in front of her. “Great. Let’s get started then.”

There was a moment of transition where they sipped their coffee in silence before Chloe shut off everything but the task at hand. This was her career and she knew she was damn good at it. She hadn’t gotten to where she was and survived the pitfalls without the ability to put her game face on in the face of adversity.

“I studied your last ad campaign, and I believe your company is missing a huge segment of its target audience.” she began.

Timothy blinked, set his mug down and stared across at her. “Okay, you have my attention.” he said

“Perhaps I should put it another way. I think you’re not targeting the right audience. You’re missing a huge opportunity.”

She paused for effect and then segued into her spiel. “Right now your company appeals to the sports crowd. The guy who jogs. The woman who goes to the gym. The person who cares about staying in shape. You’re all about functionality. The kids who play sports. The guys who play racquetball at the club. The casual basketball game on the weekends.”

Timothy nodded.

“Then there are the people, like me, who are allergic to physical activity.”

He snorted and sent an appraising look over her body.

She ignored him and continued on. She didn’t even want to contemplate what that stare meant… At least not right now. She couldn’t afford to be distracted at this moment.

“These are the people who watch sports. They’re tuned in to every game. The players. The teams. They run the gambit from the fanatic to the casual observer. They’re the people who will buy your sportswear not because they’re going to worry over the functionality. They don’t care. They want to look cool. They want to immerse themselves in the aura of the sports world. You’re a brand, a label. It’s a status symbol.” she continued.

Her excitement mounted with every word. He was listening intently. She had him.

“So you do dual marketing. You go after the die-hard fitness enthusiast with the sweaty workout commercials. The driven athlete who’s going to be the best and wearing your brand the entire time.”

Again she paused to gauge his reaction, and he was leaning forward, his brow creased in concentration. “Then you go after the men and the women and the kids who want your clothing and your shoes because they look good. Because they make them feel athletic without ever lifting a finger. You show them someone looking cool and sophisticated in your clothing. You show them it’s hip to have your company’s wear. They can be average, everyday Joes and still know what it feels like to be a star.”

Then she went for the kill shot. Her excitement mounted because she knew he was interested. He was all business right now and his eyes gleamed with enthusiasm.

“And the person you show to both of these groups, the man you have doing the sweaty, driven shoots and the cool, suave commercials is Bryce Collins.”

Timothy’s eyes widened a fraction, and then he sat back in his seat. “Wait a minute,” he said slowly.

She waited, trying valiantly to hide her smug grin. This would be the fun part.

“You’re telling me you can get us Bryce Collins?” He asked. He didn’t even wait for her to reply before he continued. “Companies have been after Bryce Collins ever since he entered the major leagues.”

“Before,” she said airily. “They wanted him out of college.”

“Whatever. The point is, the man has never agreed to an endorsement deal. What makes you think you can change his mind?” he sounded doubtful.

“And if I told you he’s willing to talk to you?” Chloe asked.

“No way,” Timothy breathed.

“It’ll cost you.”

“Hell, it would be worth it!” His eyes narrowed again. “He’ll talk to me. You’ve already been in contact with him?”

“I might have mentioned the possibility of you doing a new ad campaign.” Chloe said.

“And he’s interested?”

“He’ll talk to you. I provided him research, which means you passed the first round of scrutiny with him. He’s a hard guy. You land him and it’ll be huge. Not only will you have a kick-ass ad campaign, but you’ll also be the guy who signed Bryce Collins. How cool would that be?”

“I’d want exclusivity,” Timothy said quickly.

“You’d have to be prepared to pay for that privilege,” Chloe pointed out. She wasn’t about to tell Timothy that exclusivity or not, the chances of Bryce agreeing to do another deal with someone else was slim to none. The man simply wasn’t motivated by money.

“Okay, let’s forget Bryce Collins for the moment. I have to admit that my father was right and I really like your ideas, Chloe. I mean, the average Joe has never escaped my notice, but you’re right. We have never gone after him in marketing. My commercials are always about the drive to succeed. I talk to the athlete in all of us.”

“Which I’ve just pointed out doesn’t exist in everyone,” she said drily.

“Yes, you’re right. Completely. The junior-high kid trying to look cool… Huge market there that we are yet to tap.”

“Most of my ideas are about how to structure television commercials, Internet advertising and print media to target all segments of the population from the die-hard sports and fitness enthusiast to Suzy Homemaker who just wants a comfortable pair of tennis shoes. We’d speak separately to teens, young adults all the way up to the retired folks.”

Timothy nodded. “I’m interested. Definitely interested. When can you have a presentation put together for us? I’m ready to move on this. I don’t mind taking a little extra time if I can be guaranteed better results.”

“You tell me when you can meet with us and I’ll arrange it,” she said evenly.

“And Bryce Collins?” asked Timothy.

“I’ll start to arrange it as soon as I talk to my boss.”