Read Online We All Fall Down by Peter Barry - Free Book Online

various social gatherings. He was passionate about his job, and would argue that advertisers simply told people about the goods they had on offer, that they presented the consumer with a choice. There was no coercion involved. The information was presented in an attractive, possibly humorous, hopefully persuasive, way that showed the product in a favourable light, but it was no more than that. ‘But you tell lies’ was often the response. ‘No, we don’t. We’re not allowed to tell lies. Commercials are taken off air if they’re considered dishonest, or if they offend the public in any way.’ If these people persisted with their accusations, he’d continue along the lines of: ‘We live in a capitalist society, and advertising is a small but essential cog that helps all the other cogs turn. If you don’t believe in advertising, then you don’t believe in capitalism.’ And he’d put on his most charming, inviting smile, and that would generally be that. Sometimes, however, they came back at him with more esoteric arguments, and he’d be ready for those too. They could be about the ownership of goods being a replacement for the acquisition of wisdom; or about the happiness some people experience when they spend money resulting in the stifling of their ability to identify with the beauties of nature. And he’d point out that advertising couldn’t be blamed for such things. ‘It’s a choice people make of their own free will. You’re surely not telling me that I and my colleagues are making your life decisions for you?’ No one was likely to admit to this, and so finally they would be able to move on to other topics of conversation.
    He wasn’t, however, of the opinion that he should have to defend his profession against John King, who was surely down there near the bottom of the list of most despised professions – along with lawyers, used car salesmen, politicians and bankers.
    â€˜Tell me, John,’ leaning forward against the table, ‘why do estate agents still insist on underquoting properties? I know it’s to draw in the crowds, but …’
    â€˜We don’t underquote, Hugh.’
    â€˜That’s not what I’ve heard.’
    The estate agent looked taken aback by this unexpected antagonism. ‘Properties are going for above the quoted price because the market’s so strong right now. Demand is pushing up prices. Hugh, it’s hardly our fault if people are outbidding each other.’
    Kate whispered to him in the kitchen, when they were serving up a new course and opening more wine, ‘She’s convinced he’s the one.’ Hugh raised an eyebrow. Jodie wasn’t his favourite person, but surely she could do better than that. Maybe John was rich? He’d brought some expensive enough wines with them, that was for sure. ‘She’s very keen on him.’ Left unsaid by Kate was, ‘So be nice to him.’
    Hugh was finding the meal too much of an effort. He stared morosely across the table. Kate and Jodie were discussing some childhood friend of theirs who had left her husband for a Russian criminal. They were both laughing. It’s all right for them, he thought, they’re having a good time . How come I get stuck with this baby-faced bricks and mortar salesman?
    â€˜You know what I can never work out …’ A little voice inside his head told him that what he was about to say was not advisable, but it was so immersed in alcohol he could barely hear it. And anyway, he wanted to prick that veneer (or could it possibly be real?) of bonhomie and positivism. ‘It’s how …’ He struggled to search for the words that would express the rest of the thought, but now, quite suddenly, he was unable to remember what that thought had been.
    It turned out John was reading his thoughts. ‘How we make so much money? Is that your question, Hugh? We also make a