Duty had called me away to handle some accounting issues yesterday, but George, and his newly adjust eyeglass prescription, had stepped in and given Campbell and her team a formal tour of all the departments at Moore’s.
Blinking, I redirect my focus to the spreadsheets on my computer, wishing I’d been there to give the tour myself, seeing Bell’s face as she took in my family’s legacy. The only place that had ever felt like home to me.
I glance at the silent intercom. George said the tour went well. When I pushed for more details, he just raised his eyebrow over his flashy wireless frames. Curious bastard.
Today he’s back manning his desk and screening my calls, and Bell and her team are holed up in the conference room down the hall, just a few steps away. They’ve been there since early this morning. I hung back when I heard them walking by my office, not wanting to seem overeager, or worse, micromanaging. I made sure George sent up more hot coffee.
Did Bell bring her employees bagels again today? She seems like the kind of boss who’d take care of her team. But I wonder what kind of boss she is when it comes to getting work done. Is she cutthroat and demanding? Quietly assuring? Is it weird that any and all of those scenarios is arousing to me?
In the little I’ve seen her and her team interact yesterday morning, I can tell there’s mutual respect. She didn’t go around hugging everyone, but her smile was genuine and their handshakes friendly. Her team, Chris and Ben, work in New York while she’s based in Houston. Yet she still asked about their lives, their families. Showed she cares. They didn’t do the same, but I’m not sure if they didn’t feel comfortable doing so because she’s their boss, or if they hadn’t known what to ask. Even so, there weren’t any stiff formalities or tie straightening and posturing like when Stan usually enters Moore’s. On those rare occasions he deigns to enter the building.
Shaking off thoughts of my family, I place my broken family picture face down and glance at the clock. Almost noon. The stack of papers I have to go through and the amount of emails and calls I need to answer means I can’t sneak away and check on the King Marketing team, much as I want to. But after getting Bell thinking about me in a nonprofessional manner, I don’t want her to think I’ve forgotten her either.
A quick Google search gives me the phone number I need.
“Thai’s Pad. May I help you?”
“Yes. I’d like to order for delivery please.”
Bell
“We could literally do anything,and it would be an improvement,” Ben says, pausing only to shovel noodles into his mouth. “I mean, they don’t even have a Facebook page, let alone a Facebook ad.” My fresh out of undergraduate marketing strategist looks bewildered, and it would be comical if it didn’t highlight just how much work we have ahead of us. “Damn, this is good Thai food.” He swallows. “Where is this from again?”
“Thai’s Pad,” I answer automatically. Best not to think too much on how Chase remembered me mentioning it. Focus on the task. “Chris. Thoughts?”
Chris pauses in mid-reach for a takeout container. “It’s weird. I’d like to know how they’ve stayed in business this long.” He grabs the box. “I don’t get it.”
“Old money.” I try not to pounce on all the Thai goodness spread out on the table. I give up and grab the shrimp spring rolls and a container of peanut sauce. I don’t even offer to share. I fully plan on double dipping.
Ben and Chris are both based in New York. They’ll travel where I need them, but it’s fortunate that they both love New York and made it their home.
Clients are usually surprised at the small teams I run, but to me, too many cooks in the kitchen gets confusing. Whichever coast I’m on, and whatever team I use, it usually only consists of two to four people. Though I have to say, together, Ben, Chris and I make up most of the marketing strategies around. They’re the best of my best. So it’s handy they’re local, as it looks like King Marketing needs a verifiable battle plan to bring Moore’s into the twenty-first century, and it would cost a mint to house them in New York for a long period of time.
Alice, who met me at the conference room door this morning carrying a book bag full of notebooks and pens like it was the first day of school, hasn’t touched the food, refusing to put down her pen or stop taking notes. Though I see her eyeing the yellow curry. I push it closer to her with my chopstick. She smiles guiltily before giving in and pushing her notebook aside.
It’s been a long morning. Yesterday we toured the store. It takes a long time to walk through almost a million square feet. We didn’t bother with the office space or restaurants, just the retail departments. George, Chase’s assistant, showed us around. He was… efficient. I was surprised how mature he was for his age. We left late afternoon to drum up ideas and first impressions so we could hit it hard this morning.
But our morning was mostly slogging through the archaic advertising Moore’s has been using and their current situation analysis. They’ve been in business for a lot of years, much longer than any of my other clients. There’s a lot of information to analyze.
“Moore’s reputation of catering to socialites and celebrities has kept them going. It’s like a status symbol. And even if they don’t have social media accounts, celebrities do, and luckily they post where they purchased certain items.” I nod to Chris. “But you’re right. It isn’t enough anymore. Even the wealthy are shopping differently. Looking more to what’s trending on social media and one-clicking their purchases online.” I take a large bite of spring roll. Dear lord, I’ve missed this peanut sauce. Best I’ve ever had.
After I swallow, I look up to see everyone staring at me.
“Enjoying that, are you?” Ben smirks.
I flush, realizing I may have moaned as I ate. “Yes, well.” I clear my throat, moving on. “Let’s look on the upside. We have a completely clean slate. We don’t have to overhaul what’s already there and debate about what to keep, what to lose, and so on. We can build fresh.”
Yesterday we dealt with tangible goods. Now we’re dealing with the corporate side, running numbers and making sure all our information is up to date. Comparing them with those of the competition.
“We’ll be meeting with Moore’s contracted marketing team, Warren and Baron, soon, right?”
I nod at Chris.
“Though who knows what they’ve been doing to earn their money,” he mutters.
Ben snorts, looking at his laptop. “Nothing, if I had to guess from the apparent lack of information at hand.”
“You know they’re going to have more than just three people, right?” Chris asks me, making me pause in my next bite. “They won’t be happy we’re here, and they’ll try to intimidate us. By sheer numbers if necessary.”
