Time to work my magic.
The shareholders’ are drunk enough to follow me on one of my idea-spitting sessions, so I just say the first thing that comes to mind.
Filter through the topics: What is Momma Bear Magazine? Nurturing. Individuality. Oh, god.
In reality, it’s just a way to get women to buy more hiking equipment, makeup with earth tones, and natural tampons. Is there any way to make it more… cutting edge? The answer is a resounding no.
“Teachers,” I say.
I watch every man’s expression fall, one by one. “Teachers,” Jim mutters.
I’m losing them. Quick, think of something fast. “Dogs, too,” I say.
Jim’s mouth closes, but I can tell it’s because he’s too confused to respond.
“Dogs,” Brian says. “Gotta love those guys.”
Quick, Marc...
Pulling from my memory, I focus on what this magazine could be if it was actually good. What is it about? Seattle. Women. Some kind of nostalgic freedom, a rebelliousness that’s at the heart of this country.
And then it hits me. A workable scenario. It’s not the idea of the century, but it’ll work.
“Teachers,” I repeat. “They’re our nation’s great heroes.”
Jim’s grey mustache twitches. “You’re already losing me.”
Clearing my throat, I run up to the front of the conference room and grab a tripod with a white board attached. Quickly, I start drawing a scene from memory. First, a station wagon at a gas pump. “Here’s our cover model, traveling across the city after a long day at work. She’s tired. She’s hungry.” I say, noticing Jim starting to open his mouth. “And she doesn’t need Jim over here to tell her what to do.”
Brian laughs, and surprisingly, the room follows. Even Jim chuckles once I come to his side and squeeze his shoulder. “She makes this long drive every single day, and she’s running on empty. Traffic is abysmal. Her dog is at home, waiting for their next big adventure together, as well as his dinner. To make matters worse, her card doesn’t work at the pump. Declined.”
“I’m listening,” Jim says.
“A new suburban market is piling up in droves. They’re older, they’re more self-conscious, and they’re a hell of a lot poorer too.”
“So what you’re saying is, what?”
“What I’m saying is we get a jump on something new and corner this market.”
Truth is, I have no idea where I’m going with this. I’m just spitballing ideas. This will never make it to the cutting room floor. But if this falls flat today, I’m going to be the laughing stock of the board room, and the door has my name on it. Must keep Jim entertained.
“This woman has given her all to help a few children in the classroom. Why? Because that’s what she wants to do with her life,” I say. “She’s not a rebel. She’s entirely normal.”
“I thought this magazine was about the Seattle counter-culture,” Jim growls.
A smirk forms on my face. “It is, Jim. That’s the point,” I say.
And even though Jim’s scowling, he’s going to be pleasantly surprised. If there’s anything I enjoy, it’s when a good idea takes me on a journey.
I make my way around the room, glancing over at Brian only to make sure I’m not going with the dumbest idea of my life. “She’s everything we should idolize,” I say. “But she’s been pushed aside like a...a…”
I’m starting to lose track, so I try to recall everything that night. She wasn’t traveling from her job. She was driving all the way to Tacoma to pick up a dog. Why? So that it could keep her company.
She’s not a rebel. She’s not a hero either. She’s just a good person that’s willing to put in the effort to make changes to her life.
That’s when I realize just how much she’s juggling. My days are broken down by meetings and worries of traffic and other inconveniences, but her days are a full sacrifice. Maybe I’ve been giving her a harder time than she deserves.
“She’s been pushed aside like a litter of cats,” I say.
Brian tenses up. Bad analogy?
I keep going before I lose them completely. “Look, I’m here to sell you an idea. But at the end of the day, this is a magazine for skeptical individuals who don’t like buying a lot of products.”
Jim cracks his neck and lowers his voice. He looks tired. “But that’s what we’re in the business of selling, Marc,” he says. “You’re good at this. Don’t make me explain the business to you.”
Brian meanders to the bar to get a few drinks. The situation is a little tense. I’ve got a feeling the magazine is going to get canned, and I’m not sure if I’ll be next. Placing the drinks on the table, Brian scratches his temples and nods.
“This isn’t bad, actually,” Brian says.
Actually? Did he really have to use that word?
I glare, and he redirects his thoughts with a jump to the white board. “She’s young and beautiful, works her butt off, and all she owns is a crappy station wagon. It’s not just that she’s been pushed aside. That’s not the story. The system has taken advantage of her, and now she’s ready to fight back with a new look. Activism is very popular these days among the youth.”
Brian usually keeps his mouth shut during these meetings. I’m not sure if this is helping or hurting my case. It sounds really fucking stupid.
Jim is staring at the board, eyes creased. He must know it’s a terrible idea, and now he’s coming up with the easiest plan to get rid of me. “Well, I think this is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, Marc.”
The other old men in the room agree.
In a calm daze, I slump in my chair. My salary isn’t necessary to survive, but this has been my life project. If I can say something to get them to rethink terminating this project, I’ll do it. “Look, Jim I—”
Jim cuts me off. “But I’m not someone who
