Read Online Fem Dom by Tony Cane-Honeysett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tony Cane-Honeysett
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to be in this meeting, Clem,” pointed out Jerry, the senior writer in the group. Clem handed out six creative briefs.
“Don’t worry about Fitz. Here’s the creative brief. Everything you need to know – demographics, previous taglines, you already know the strategic positioning of the brand and where we need to take it, and last of all…budget.”
“Wow! We could get Spielberg to direct with this kinda money,” said Rachel, another of the art directors, staring at the dollar amount on Clem’s brief.
“Chuck, I need to see something from these guys here that we can approve internally by the end of next week.”
“Okay,” grunted Chuck, jotting notes on his iPad.
“What’s this client like?” asked Herman, a chubby writer on the team.
“Conservative,” Chuck Svensen informed the room.
“So no wacky alien monkeys, angry nuns or tattooed babes in bikinis,” Clem added, to a collective groan.
“You account executives have no clue about decent creative,” Jerry complained. “My alien monkeys campaign could have won me a Clio.”
Clem was used to dealing with all the egos of the creative department. “Don’t make my job any harder trying to sell the client stuff we all know he isn’t going to buy. That’ll just piss him off.”
“Heard this speech before,” Herman mumbled to Rachel.
“Come on, guys. You know my job is to sell clients campaigns that actually increase sales and not just give you golden gongs. How about that for a concept?”
“Yeah but Clem,” Herman butted in. “My buddy at Saatchi’s in London won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Advertising Awards two years back. He got a week in the south of France on the friggin’ French Riviera! Parties, Euro chicks -- all expenses paid!”
“Holy shit! Are you serious?” said Eric, the youngest copywriter in the department.
“That’s what we’re talking about!” Jerry cracked.
Everyone in the room knew that accolades led to awards and that awards led to pay raises and bonuses plus a grand old time to boot. In the creative department, there was a healthy competitive environment as each two-person team of art director and copywriter wanted to out-do the others but Clem needed all these guys to pull together now. It was up to Chuck Svensen to rally his creative troops and come up with several stellar campaign ideas but he was being unusually quiet.
“I’m leaving it up to your collective creative brilliance to show me some campaigns that’ll work in all media across the board from TV to point-of-sale. Just make the product the hero and if it has your blessing Chuck, I’ll present it to Rebakor. Let’s have an internal meeting early next week and maybe I can present to Molinaire down in Louisville the following Friday.” Clem smiled at the eager creative teams perusing his paperwork. “Okay, any more questions?”
“Yeah,” Chuck tapped his finger on the table. “Not sure this creative brief jives with the strategy Fitz presented the other day.”
“Just work to this creative brief,” said a stone-faced Clem.
“You guys are working together on this, right? I mean, I don’t want my department cranking out concepts to a brief that doesn’t fit the strategy.”
Suddenly all eyes were drilled on Clem.
“Work to the strategy in this brief, Chuck. Right – so are we done?” Clem asked bluntly to the group. The room stayed silent. Everyone knew what was needed. “Thanks, guys. Meeting over.”
Tara propped up Mistress Krystal’s business card on her computer screen. If it was a gag card of some sort it certainly looked very authentic. And why would there be a time of day scribbled on the back of the card in Clem’s handwriting? Tara grabbed the card and looked at the number. She just had to get her nerve up. What would she say if she called this mysterious woman? Tara couldn’t stop herself from turning back to look again at that photo of her and Clem in Santa Monica. It made her sad and angry.
Call,
“Don’t worry about Fitz. Here’s the creative brief. Everything you need to know – demographics, previous taglines, you already know the strategic positioning of the brand and where we need to take it, and last of all…budget.”
“Wow! We could get Spielberg to direct with this kinda money,” said Rachel, another of the art directors, staring at the dollar amount on Clem’s brief.
“Chuck, I need to see something from these guys here that we can approve internally by the end of next week.”
“Okay,” grunted Chuck, jotting notes on his iPad.
“What’s this client like?” asked Herman, a chubby writer on the team.
“Conservative,” Chuck Svensen informed the room.
“So no wacky alien monkeys, angry nuns or tattooed babes in bikinis,” Clem added, to a collective groan.
“You account executives have no clue about decent creative,” Jerry complained. “My alien monkeys campaign could have won me a Clio.”
Clem was used to dealing with all the egos of the creative department. “Don’t make my job any harder trying to sell the client stuff we all know he isn’t going to buy. That’ll just piss him off.”
“Heard this speech before,” Herman mumbled to Rachel.
“Come on, guys. You know my job is to sell clients campaigns that actually increase sales and not just give you golden gongs. How about that for a concept?”
“Yeah but Clem,” Herman butted in. “My buddy at Saatchi’s in London won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Advertising Awards two years back. He got a week in the south of France on the friggin’ French Riviera! Parties, Euro chicks -- all expenses paid!”
“Holy shit! Are you serious?” said Eric, the youngest copywriter in the department.
“That’s what we’re talking about!” Jerry cracked.
Everyone in the room knew that accolades led to awards and that awards led to pay raises and bonuses plus a grand old time to boot. In the creative department, there was a healthy competitive environment as each two-person team of art director and copywriter wanted to out-do the others but Clem needed all these guys to pull together now. It was up to Chuck Svensen to rally his creative troops and come up with several stellar campaign ideas but he was being unusually quiet.
“I’m leaving it up to your collective creative brilliance to show me some campaigns that’ll work in all media across the board from TV to point-of-sale. Just make the product the hero and if it has your blessing Chuck, I’ll present it to Rebakor. Let’s have an internal meeting early next week and maybe I can present to Molinaire down in Louisville the following Friday.” Clem smiled at the eager creative teams perusing his paperwork. “Okay, any more questions?”
“Yeah,” Chuck tapped his finger on the table. “Not sure this creative brief jives with the strategy Fitz presented the other day.”
“Just work to this creative brief,” said a stone-faced Clem.
“You guys are working together on this, right? I mean, I don’t want my department cranking out concepts to a brief that doesn’t fit the strategy.”
Suddenly all eyes were drilled on Clem.
“Work to the strategy in this brief, Chuck. Right – so are we done?” Clem asked bluntly to the group. The room stayed silent. Everyone knew what was needed. “Thanks, guys. Meeting over.”
Tara propped up Mistress Krystal’s business card on her computer screen. If it was a gag card of some sort it certainly looked very authentic. And why would there be a time of day scribbled on the back of the card in Clem’s handwriting? Tara grabbed the card and looked at the number. She just had to get her nerve up. What would she say if she called this mysterious woman? Tara couldn’t stop herself from turning back to look again at that photo of her and Clem in Santa Monica. It made her sad and angry.
Call,
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