Read Online My Bluegrass Baby by Molly Harper - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Molly Harper
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mysteriously disappeared from
my desk drawer. Work orders got lost on the way to printers or suppliers so often
that we eventually started hand-delivering the paperwork. And I couldn’t be certain,
but I thought my M&M jar was emptying faster than usual.
Never had the office seemed so divided and disconnected, not even during the great
“Kelsey Purchased Decaf Instead of Real Coffee” Scandal of 2010. This tension came
to a head at the monthly staff meeting, when Ray asked us for a progress report on
our project and we had very little to show him except that we’d agreed on which shade
of blue we would be using for the brochure text.
“You’ve been working on this for more than a week and all you have to show me is royal
blue?” Ray said incredulously.
“It’s closer to a peacock blue, really,” I observed just before Vaughn elbowed me
in the ribs.
“What exactly is the problem?” Ray asked. “Because I am almost certain I could turn
this over to the interns and they could have something back to me in a few days.”
Jordie the Good Intern from Transylvania University frowned at the implication, while
Michael the Idiot Intern smirked like he’d been paid a compliment.
“There’s no problem, Ray, just a difference in opinion,” I told him. “Mr. Vaughn seems
to think we can attract people to a new and exciting event by making it look like
every other historical event held in every other state. There’s no reason to take
pains to attend said event because if they miss it, they can always go to the next
one in Tennessee or Virginia.”
“Yes, I suppose that does seem disturbing to someone who wants to draw in a crowd
by making the encampment look like some sort of National Lampoon’s Vacation ,” Vaughn spat.
I stood, knocking my chair back. “Would I give people the impression their family
might risk having fun? Yes, I would!”
Vaughn stood and slapped his hand against the table. “Of course you would! Because
you believe in wacky sentimentality over proven marketability. And not just for this
project. It’s evident in everything you do.”
“Because proven marketability is boring! It’s proven because it’s been done before.
You’re not creating anything new, you’re just regurgitating some old idea.”
“Okay, let’s talk about new growth. Delacour Jewelers is building a fabrication plant
here. Kentucky would be home to one of maybe three places in the world where they
make their jewelry. Why can’t we draw some attention to that? The jeweler’s public
relations rep told me she’d contacted you three times and you never picked up on any
of the announcements she sent you.”
I threw up my hands. “Oh, sure, let’s campaign for a store where maybe ten percent
of our state’s population can afford to buy so much as a key chain. A store that already
has a substantial advertising budget and doesn’t really need our help.”
“I like their ads,” Kelsey mused. “You don’t see enough male models rolling around
on piles of loose diamonds, in my opinion.”
Ray sighed and buried his face in his hands. “Kelsey.”
“I say we let Kelsey talk,” Michael said, holding up his hand. “Kelsey, are there
naked girls rolling around—”
“Michael!” Ray barked. “Look, Sadie, Josh, let’s all calm down.”
Vaughn ignored him, throwing his arms up in the air. “And building a little goodwill
with a multimillion-dollar corporation would just be tragic, wouldn’t it? You think
I haven’t met hacks like you before? You put together your adorable little campaigns
that make people laugh, but never manage to nudge them off their couches. You love
the underdog, which is easy because everybody loves to root for the underdog. The
problem is that the underdog is usually under for a reason. And you can’t build long-term
success on adorable!”
“Well, I think the Snuggle Bear, the Cadbury Bunny, and that little
my desk drawer. Work orders got lost on the way to printers or suppliers so often
that we eventually started hand-delivering the paperwork. And I couldn’t be certain,
but I thought my M&M jar was emptying faster than usual.
Never had the office seemed so divided and disconnected, not even during the great
“Kelsey Purchased Decaf Instead of Real Coffee” Scandal of 2010. This tension came
to a head at the monthly staff meeting, when Ray asked us for a progress report on
our project and we had very little to show him except that we’d agreed on which shade
of blue we would be using for the brochure text.
“You’ve been working on this for more than a week and all you have to show me is royal
blue?” Ray said incredulously.
“It’s closer to a peacock blue, really,” I observed just before Vaughn elbowed me
in the ribs.
“What exactly is the problem?” Ray asked. “Because I am almost certain I could turn
this over to the interns and they could have something back to me in a few days.”
Jordie the Good Intern from Transylvania University frowned at the implication, while
Michael the Idiot Intern smirked like he’d been paid a compliment.
“There’s no problem, Ray, just a difference in opinion,” I told him. “Mr. Vaughn seems
to think we can attract people to a new and exciting event by making it look like
every other historical event held in every other state. There’s no reason to take
pains to attend said event because if they miss it, they can always go to the next
one in Tennessee or Virginia.”
“Yes, I suppose that does seem disturbing to someone who wants to draw in a crowd
by making the encampment look like some sort of National Lampoon’s Vacation ,” Vaughn spat.
I stood, knocking my chair back. “Would I give people the impression their family
might risk having fun? Yes, I would!”
Vaughn stood and slapped his hand against the table. “Of course you would! Because
you believe in wacky sentimentality over proven marketability. And not just for this
project. It’s evident in everything you do.”
“Because proven marketability is boring! It’s proven because it’s been done before.
You’re not creating anything new, you’re just regurgitating some old idea.”
“Okay, let’s talk about new growth. Delacour Jewelers is building a fabrication plant
here. Kentucky would be home to one of maybe three places in the world where they
make their jewelry. Why can’t we draw some attention to that? The jeweler’s public
relations rep told me she’d contacted you three times and you never picked up on any
of the announcements she sent you.”
I threw up my hands. “Oh, sure, let’s campaign for a store where maybe ten percent
of our state’s population can afford to buy so much as a key chain. A store that already
has a substantial advertising budget and doesn’t really need our help.”
“I like their ads,” Kelsey mused. “You don’t see enough male models rolling around
on piles of loose diamonds, in my opinion.”
Ray sighed and buried his face in his hands. “Kelsey.”
“I say we let Kelsey talk,” Michael said, holding up his hand. “Kelsey, are there
naked girls rolling around—”
“Michael!” Ray barked. “Look, Sadie, Josh, let’s all calm down.”
Vaughn ignored him, throwing his arms up in the air. “And building a little goodwill
with a multimillion-dollar corporation would just be tragic, wouldn’t it? You think
I haven’t met hacks like you before? You put together your adorable little campaigns
that make people laugh, but never manage to nudge them off their couches. You love
the underdog, which is easy because everybody loves to root for the underdog. The
problem is that the underdog is usually under for a reason. And you can’t build long-term
success on adorable!”
“Well, I think the Snuggle Bear, the Cadbury Bunny, and that little
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