Chapter nine (9)
For apparent reasons, most colleagues in attendance at the Thursday 10:00 am meeting were attentive and alert. This was the inaugural “green light session” since Monsieur McQuade announced his “radical” new improvement system. This was a kick-off session and it was a Prospective Client Meeting. That meant that all who attended would be required to develop ideas, strategies, concepts and outlines for the new potential client.
The topic: The PowerDrop lottery account.
So … according to the new McQuade Plan, all ye who entered the business meeting would be “competing” for a spot on the team which would compete against the other regional ad agencies for the multi-state account. In theory, it could reap many financial benefits. Of course, no one knew how much money it could mean for a particular team member, but one could always hope.
And fortunately for everyone present, Sonny McQuade was not to be present today, although the video tape camera was a-whirring. The upside is that the video tape recorder cannot prate dull and boring anecdotes like Mr. Aforementioned.
The introduction was succinct. The PowerDropLottery Board was made up of a fifteen-state Authority, and it was interested in generating more revenue from the public gambling. Their perspective/perception concluded that if they had snappier, sexier ads, they’d sell more tickets. Since they get paid to run the operation, their decisions count for the public good, and so … they were in the market for a new ad agency.
New bids would be sent in the next three months. Litigation from the present ad agency would certainly commence shortly thereafter. That was not for McQuade Concepts to worry about. They wanted to generate some capital of their own.
And here was a room full of reasonably creative folks looking to cash in on a new incentive comp plan.
Photo by Mario Gogh on Unsplash
The meeting lasted for over four hours. Lunch was provided, in the form of cold cuts, cheeses and a variety of breads. Helen missed a noon time A.A. meeting at a nearby community building; that wasn’t near as critical as it would have been earlier in her recovery. She’d simply make a Commuter’s meeting at 5:30pm or one of the usual 8:00pm meetings. She made it a priority to stay in the McQuade meeting, if for nothing else, she wanted to see how this new process might shake out.
But they were given a twenty minute break at one point, and Helen picked up two napkins full of sandwich goodies and left the room. She entered the elevator with the smokers, but she turned right when she got down to the lobby. She stepped outside into the sunshine and found her mark without any effort whatsoever.
“Miss Sunshine! How is my Littlest Angel?” bellowed a sixty-two year old man in day-old clothes, who looked every bit of fifty years of age, but he was older. “What’s Going On, Dearie?”
“You are”, replied Helen, with a hug. She handed her goodie-filled-napkins to Al Hunter, who politely put them down while he sat down with his friend. It had been over a week since Helen and he had talked; as hungry as he might be, he had time to eat after they talked.
“I’m sorry I’ve only got a few minutes, Al. Career calling and all that,” bemoaned Helen, almost apologetically.
They reviewed their week as they sat on the marble-faced wall in front of McQuade Concepts. It was here that Al Hunter sat many of his daily hours away. He was homeless, and had been so for over three years. He and Helen had met in a soup kitchen that Helen was serving regularly in. They found it easy to chat and found a few things in common so they became fast, if not unusual friends. Sixty-two year old men do not usually attract thirty-two year old women, especially when one of the parties is homeless and the other alcoholic. But alcohol and drugs had never been Al’s problem and his heartfelt insights were warmly welcomed in Helen’s life. He was one friend that she had to neither weigh words nor measure thoughts when in his company. They had little else in common, but he felt comfortable with her as well. It was an unlikely friendship.
She spent most of her twenty minute break with him, hugged him and returned to “show time”.
Green Light sessions can be rather enjoyable if one is in a room of creative people who take their job reasonably seriously. If the topic is right, and the deadlines aren’t too tight, a healthy “anything goes” idea session can be as humorous as it is interesting. The only “rule” for McQuade Green Light Sessions was that Anything Goes. No idea was too fruitless, too stupid, or too off base. That led to some rather heartless attempts at hard work in previous sessions, including those run by “Junior”, himself. But today’s session was run by Mary Jane Heady, a sharp, intelligent “team player”. She was a master at keeping folks on task, she was wonderful to work with and inspiring to work for.
Ergo, another good reason why Helen seemed motivated to remain in the long, taxing session.
After a lengthy overview of various forms of media and strategies, Mary Jane concluded that more discussion needed to be focused on the lottery. She surmised that more folks needed to share their own thoughts and feelings concerning the public game itself.
The banter began almost immediately, between HIM from Pennsylvania and HER from the Mid-west.
Him: “I don’t believe in it.”
Her: “Well you’d better start.”
Him: Why? I’ve got to USE the products that we write for? That puts me off of the tampon account … dang.”
Her: “Not that … you idiot. It’s just that you’d better have some faith in the system.”
Him: “Some people have way too much faith in “the system.”
“Whatdoya mean by that?” inquired Ms. Heady, keeping the focus—and trust—intact.
Him: “I mean, that some people sink way too many resources into lottery tickets. Haven’t you ever stood behind some toothless woman, with hair in curlers at a convenience store … while she reads out ten sets of numbers?? The look in her eye says it all!”
Her: “So you would deny her that right?”
Him: “Deny her the right to spend child support or public dole monies on a game of chance in which she has virtually zero chance of winning?”
Her: “No! Deny her the right to spend her money on anything of her choosing.”
Another young, twenty-something male joined the fray.
“You believe it’s her right to spend her welfare check on the lottery?” He asked it direct and emotionless. She responded more out of a defensive posture than from a logical one.
“I don’t believe that we have any right to tell her how to spend HER money.
Before the debate deteriorated into a discussion of societal values and the political spectrum, Mary Jane took the meeting back to regenerate some corporate focus.
She thanked her participants and asked if anyone can share some movie titles and plots which address the concept and mindset of any lottery.
For five minutes the discussion turned to the movie of a married cop who, when embarrassed that he had no money for a waitress’ tip, promises her that if his lottery ticket hits, he’d split it with the attractive employee.
It does, he does and his wife gets a little upset when half of her dream money is given away to the stranger. McQuade’s amateur movie critics sounded off on the quality of the directing, actingand writing of the reasonably-popular movie.
The conversation turned to the financially sound empire that has cropped up surrounding the lottery industry. Lottery magazines, lottery play strategies, lottery reporting businesses and lottery psychics are turning over millions of dollars.
One of Heady’s assistant’s reported some real-life news reports concerning lottery winners:
“When a New Jersey Police Officer correctly matched six Lotto Texas numbers in a 1994 Lotto drawing, he thought he had won $10.4 million. The Texas Lottery thought otherwise.
“They refused to turn the jackpot over to the Police Officer, claiming the officer had violated the law by purchasing his winning ticket from a multi-state ticket agent in Pennsylvania. He would have been on duty at the time of the purchase, and therefore had no business being out of state. The Officer sued.
“Finally, after more than three years, he prevailed and will receive a settlement of about $3 million.
Lottery officials say The Police Officer bought his winning ticket from the now defunct Pic-A-State in Croyden, Pa., near his home in Riverside, N.J. Originally, a federal judge in Houston sided with the Lottery and refused to pay the Officer. But the 5th U.S. Court of Appeals reversed the decision.”
There was talk about the history of lotteries, where the fact that most colonial states generated money through lotteries emerged. Mary Jane’s crack assistant also had a statistic that most, if not all of these lotteries were proven to be crooked.
This generated a heated discussion on the role of government within the lottery industry, and of course, the role of advertising in the mix.
In an attempt to bring about a little more laughter into the room, Heady finished by asking for open comments on plans should one ever win the bulging jackpot. Immediately the mood lifted.
“What would you do with money?”
“Travel everywhere!”
“Get the hell out of this town”
“Buy my parents a house”
“Buy everyone here a car”
A chorus of Yeah, Yeah, Yeah’s brought a smile to everyone’s face.
“Leave my husband so fast, he’d get frostbite”
(“He’d get half, you know?”
I’d hide it from him. Some judge somewhere would understand.”)
“Elvis bought everyone Cadillacs”
Elvis discussion: did money or drugs ruin him? (chicken or egg). Soon they were back “on task”.
“Would you let the money ruin you?”
“Of course not”
“I know how to keep it from ruining me”
“How?”
“I would lend money to everyone”
“I would lend money to no one”
“I would set up a charitable foundation”
“I wouldn’t quit my job.”
“I wouldn’t let them put my name in the paper, and I wouldn’t tell no one
(“You’d have to; it’s public money. Once you pay your dollar or two, you have no choice because it becomes public information. Besides it’s HOT NEWS. People want to know all about the folks who won it. It’s their only ‘reward’ for having NOT won it.”)
The meeting carried on until just after two in the afternoon, where plans were made for an early week follow-up to today’s meeting. Research assignments were given to a few of the newcomers; given that team selection hinged on individual participation, many associates jotted notes as to their contributions next week.
Helen packed up her notebook and returned to her cubicle, where she had a deadline for a retail ad she’d signed on for.
The phone rang shortly after four. It was Dorothy
“Are you ready for tonight?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be. I feel good about it. Thanks for our talk. It helped.”
“You bet, friend. I just wish I can be there for you tonight. My schedule is still nuts. I want to be there.”
“You will be, Dorothy. You will be.”