Page 20 of Scoring Chance

“What?” I keep my eyes glued to my computer in the hopes he’ll run along soon.

“You want to hear another rumor going around?” Kyle asks.

“If it’s the one about you catching gonorrhea on a Disney Cruise, I’ve already heard it.”

“It was a staph infection, and it was pretty serious.” He drops his ugly smile.

My junior copywriter Craig comes in—at six foot five, he should be in the NBA in my opinion— and lets me know Stan, the agency’s creative director, is calling a meeting for everyone.

“Everyone?” I ask.

“Everyone,” he confirms.

“I wonder what it could be…” Kyle flits away from the door, his knowing grin only adding to my anxiety.

Stan doesn’t do a lot of meetings. He’s generally busy with older clients and long-standing accounts. So why talk to the whole office?

“Do we know what this is about?” I say to Craig under my breath. I have to stand on my tiptoes so he can hear; I almost trip over a wastebasket.

“I heard a rumor.” He flings his pretty boy hair out of his eyes.

“What’s the rumor?” I ask. Being out of the loop is new for me.

“Stan’s retiring,” Craig whispers back just as we reach the traffic jam to enter the conference room.

Holy shit. A huge pit plops in my stomach.

I signal for Craig to zip it so others don’t hear us talking, especially Kyle in front of me. He doesn’t hold the door open for either of us. Typical.

The room’s walls are filled with framed pictures of past ad campaigns, for cereal and travel agencies and fax machines. Petty/Marsh has managed to remain relevant for over forty years. I could’ve tried to get in with a bigger agency in Manhattan, but working my way up at a boutique outfit has let me get more experience.

Managers and above sit around the conference table, with assistants and junior employees taking the seats around the perimeter. At the head of the table is Stan Beecham, in his navy blue suit, wearing his trademark bow tie. He liked impressing people at parties by showing them how to tie one because most have no idea how. His black skin pops against his light blue dress shirt, and the white of his tight curls gives him a regal quality.

“Yes, happy Friday to you all,” Stan says. “In advertising, brevity is key. We only have six seconds to grab the consumer’s attention. So I’m going to cut to the chase. I’ve worked here for twenty-five years, been creative director for nine of those, trying to fill the hole left by the great Drake Petty.” Stan nods at Kyle, who makes a heart with his hands.

Barf.

“It’s been a great ride, but I’ve decided to pack up my spurs and go. I promised my wife I would retire, and I have to keep that promise.”

Nobody gasps out loud, but you can feel a collective shift in the room at the news. It’s the end of an era. I have Craig sit on the opposite wall as me so we can slyly communicate during these meetings. He and I both have the same stunned look. This is real shit.

“Now, you’re probably wondering who will be my successor,” Stan continues. “Well, I’m not leaving until the end of the year, so I’ll be using these next few months to look at candidates in-house, and also some external candidates, and see who would be the best fit. Because being creative director—it’s tough. You’re running a whole agency. You’re interfacing with clients and their needs. But I know one of you can handle it. There are already a few at the top of my list.”

His eyes find me in a split-second glance. After bouncing around in my twenties, not knowing what I wanted to do with my life, and getting no guidance from my parents, Petty/Marsh, and Stan in particular, became a home to me. They were the place where I learned to be a functioning adult. I love it here. I want to stay here. I know I can lead here. This is what I’ve been working for.

Some people say it’s bad to only care about your job, to be job-obsessed. I disagree. The satisfaction that comes from work is unparalleled. I rub my finger absentmindedly, surprised to find myself looking for a ring to swirl. I left that wedding ring on all weekend by accident. Big mistake.

“Since we’re all here, let’s take a few minutes to go around and give a quick update on your different clients—who you’re working with. Des, you go first. How’s Brenner’s?” Stan spends some of his time teaching marketing and advertising at a local college, and he’s become fond of calling on us as if we’re his students. You always have to be prepared in a meeting with Stan Beecham.

“We’re presenting new creative to them today. In it, we’re playing up the excitement that spicy mustard can bring to a regular sandwich. We’re transforming the way people think about lunch.” Sometimes, I hear myself talk and have to laugh. Am I selling mustard or helping to elect the president of the United States?

Stan tepees his fingers together and nods with utmost seriousness. “Send me what you have after this meeting. I want to look it over. I wonder if we should be thinking less about transformation and more about a fun moment in the day? Transformation sounds very serious. Adding a little twist to your sandwich won’t change your life, but it’s…”

“Something different to look forward to.”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll work with my team to tweak some of the messaging.” Stan may be getting up there in years, but he’s still a fountain of wisdom. He has this innate ability to understand what people want. I’m grateful for the opportunity to have worked under him all these years, and I feel confident I can take the mantle.