Read Online The Do It List (The Do It List #1) by Jillian Stone - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jillian Stone
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early afternoon working on concepts for the A/X Spring Collection, but when three o’clock rolled around we split up. Sarah hurried off to put out a client revision fire, and I was late to Bradley’s research briefing.
I changed back into designer fatigues and skulked into DEFCON 5. This particular creative conference room featured a floor-to-ceiling nuclear hazard symbol painted on the wall, but no conference table. Just a long leather couch, a pile of beanbag chairs, and a foosball table. A central power station provided the link to the flat screen on the wall and charged all manner of electronic devices.
I sidestepped a tangle of smart phone cords and plopped myself down on an unoccupied radiation-yellow beanbag. There were good reasons why I wore jeans or fatigues to work. Like, tell me how it’s possible to sit in a beanbag chair—in a dress—and not give every man in the room an upskirt shot?
“You’re two for two, Gracie.” Bradley turned back from the presentation screen and stared directly at me. “Two meetings—late twice.”
I stared him down. “Luckily I’m smart enough to catch up.”
He broke his gaze and surveyed room. “I’ve been briefed, at some length, on the problems and issues of the past. My charge going forward is to get research and creative working together. And I want to start by assuring all of you, my job is to help facilitate great advertising, not stand in the way of it.” His gaze connected with each face in the room, ending on mine. “Breakthrough messaging that is fresh and compelling creates sales, which makes the client happy and keeps the agency in demand, which means new business and large bonuses.”
His presentation was concise and his delivery style relaxed. It seemed pretty clear that we were all going to go out on the street, conduct individually styled interviews, then compare and contrast. He had also used the word “list” twice. Once indirectly, but the second time went something like this: “As for your intercept questions…” His gaze never left me. “Compile a list and email them to me by Friday end of day.”
Tentatively, I raised my hand.
“Yes, Gracie.”
“I get it and I’m on board, just tell me we’re not going to test creative.”
Bradley’s gaze shifted away, then returned. “The client isn’t going to spend nine point two million dollars for Super Bowl spots, and not do pre and post testing.”
My stare narrowed. “Copy testing or a disaster check—a simple thumbs up or down?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Will I have to incorporate dynamic keywords for maximum purchase optimization?” I admit I laid on the sarcasm pretty thick, but I needed to know what sort of man I was up against, personally and professionally.
“We’ll determine the kind of testing once we narrow down the creative. Axel wants to test at least one humor spot because of high memorability ratings, plus humor gets the most post game press coverage. Hot flesh is next. A Sports Illustrated swimsuit model eating anything juicy.”
“How about my dick slathered in Héros body wash?” Mark offered.
“Maybe Kobe Bryant’s dick.” I glanced up at Bradley. “I’m sorry, I thought you said big and juicy.”
Sarah plopped down beside me, sharing the beanbag.
Bradley’s gaze moved past Derek and landed on Mark. “How about you stand in the corner while I spank her?”
Derek looked up from his tablet. “Don’t take the deal, Mark. If you stand in the corner, you can’t watch.”
Bradley’s gaze shifted to Derek and lingered just long enough to be uncomfortable. “Humor, hot flesh and…” Bradley pressed a key on his laptop and advanced the PowerPoint presentation. “Heartfelt.” A picture of Clydesdales frolicking in the snow appeared on screen.
“Those are your three, admittedly loose directions. Let’s call them themes for now until we analyze the interviews.” Bradley pivoted back toward Sarah and me. “Look, I will
I changed back into designer fatigues and skulked into DEFCON 5. This particular creative conference room featured a floor-to-ceiling nuclear hazard symbol painted on the wall, but no conference table. Just a long leather couch, a pile of beanbag chairs, and a foosball table. A central power station provided the link to the flat screen on the wall and charged all manner of electronic devices.
I sidestepped a tangle of smart phone cords and plopped myself down on an unoccupied radiation-yellow beanbag. There were good reasons why I wore jeans or fatigues to work. Like, tell me how it’s possible to sit in a beanbag chair—in a dress—and not give every man in the room an upskirt shot?
“You’re two for two, Gracie.” Bradley turned back from the presentation screen and stared directly at me. “Two meetings—late twice.”
I stared him down. “Luckily I’m smart enough to catch up.”
He broke his gaze and surveyed room. “I’ve been briefed, at some length, on the problems and issues of the past. My charge going forward is to get research and creative working together. And I want to start by assuring all of you, my job is to help facilitate great advertising, not stand in the way of it.” His gaze connected with each face in the room, ending on mine. “Breakthrough messaging that is fresh and compelling creates sales, which makes the client happy and keeps the agency in demand, which means new business and large bonuses.”
His presentation was concise and his delivery style relaxed. It seemed pretty clear that we were all going to go out on the street, conduct individually styled interviews, then compare and contrast. He had also used the word “list” twice. Once indirectly, but the second time went something like this: “As for your intercept questions…” His gaze never left me. “Compile a list and email them to me by Friday end of day.”
Tentatively, I raised my hand.
“Yes, Gracie.”
“I get it and I’m on board, just tell me we’re not going to test creative.”
Bradley’s gaze shifted away, then returned. “The client isn’t going to spend nine point two million dollars for Super Bowl spots, and not do pre and post testing.”
My stare narrowed. “Copy testing or a disaster check—a simple thumbs up or down?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Will I have to incorporate dynamic keywords for maximum purchase optimization?” I admit I laid on the sarcasm pretty thick, but I needed to know what sort of man I was up against, personally and professionally.
“We’ll determine the kind of testing once we narrow down the creative. Axel wants to test at least one humor spot because of high memorability ratings, plus humor gets the most post game press coverage. Hot flesh is next. A Sports Illustrated swimsuit model eating anything juicy.”
“How about my dick slathered in Héros body wash?” Mark offered.
“Maybe Kobe Bryant’s dick.” I glanced up at Bradley. “I’m sorry, I thought you said big and juicy.”
Sarah plopped down beside me, sharing the beanbag.
Bradley’s gaze moved past Derek and landed on Mark. “How about you stand in the corner while I spank her?”
Derek looked up from his tablet. “Don’t take the deal, Mark. If you stand in the corner, you can’t watch.”
Bradley’s gaze shifted to Derek and lingered just long enough to be uncomfortable. “Humor, hot flesh and…” Bradley pressed a key on his laptop and advanced the PowerPoint presentation. “Heartfelt.” A picture of Clydesdales frolicking in the snow appeared on screen.
“Those are your three, admittedly loose directions. Let’s call them themes for now until we analyze the interviews.” Bradley pivoted back toward Sarah and me. “Look, I will
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