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“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.” I clasp my hands in front of me as I stare out into the sea of faces in the conference room.
Three representatives from Remedy sit to my right, followed by Dave and a few members of the board, and then Elizabeth, Ashley, and Kerissa, who are all scowling in my direction.
I hope they’re nervous; after watching their pitch, I know mine and Jeffrey’s is better. They relied solely on packaging and marketing tactics instead of emotional appeal, which right now I feel is worth its weight in gold, especially given what I understand about women’s emotions now.
“Jeffrey and I are honored to show you what we’ve created for a marketing campaign for you, specifically for the feminine products you wanted us to focus on. So, without further ado, let’s get to the presentation.” I nod to Jeffrey to press play on the screen, bringing up the video montage that our graphic arts team helped us create before turning the lights off and returning to his seat.
“Now, without being able to test the products ourselves, we valued reviews of your customers and women close to us as evidence of the reliability of your products and hope that explains some of the dialogue choices in the video.”
The girls snicker, but Dave just winks in my direction.
“Our vision is this. The commercial opens up to a man standing in the aisle where every brand of tampon and pad is located in a store, his eyes narrowed as he scans the aisles looking for the brand he came to purchase for his significant other, but he’s clearly overwhelmed by the selection in front of him. To his right is a mother standing with her teenage daughter, explaining the different items to her as tears stream down her face. To his left, a woman walks up on a mission, dressed in workout clothing and visibly sweaty after a workout, reaching for a box of Remedy products and throwing them in her cart before walking away. She’s clearly busy, doesn’t have time to dawdle, and gets what she needs and gets out. He watches the woman leave and then turns back to the mother and daughter duo, the mother trying to console her child who obviously has just crossed over into womanhood, and the man becomes visibly distraught. Another woman strides up to the aisle, dressed in business attire, looking calm and confident as she quickly locates the item she needs and turns to leave, just as she sees the young girl.” Jeffrey continues clicking through the slides as I breeze through the script I memorized over the past two days.
“The woman’s features soften as she walks over to the girl, crouches down in front of her, and rubs her arm, saying ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart. I know this seems overwhelming and the end of the world right now. Being a girl is hard. There are so many things we have to worry about and deal with that men will never understand. But as long as you have the right tools to deal with this problem, you’ll be able to focus on the things that matter—just remember to be the strong and brilliant woman that you are.’ She hands the girl and her mother a box of pads and says, ‘I recommend these. As long as I have Remedy products, I know I’m protected and I can get right back to my life, to doing the things that I want.’ Then she stands and flashes a smile before turning to leave, walking briskly past the man still standing there before saying to him, ‘Periods are a part of a woman’s life. If you can’t handle that, then you’re in the wrong aisle.’ And then she walks away.”
The Remedy representatives are smiling from ear to ear.
“The man watches her leave, his eyes wide with alarm, but then he pulls his phone from his pocket and places a call. ‘I got what you need, babe,’ he says as he reaches for a box of Remedy tampons. ‘Now what can I get you that you want.’ And then the commercial ends as he walks away with a smile on his face.”
The video ends, and the screen goes black as Jeffrey stands and turns the lights back on. Dave is fucking beaming, a wave of relief and pride washes through me, and Jeffrey claps me on the back before whispering in my ear. “Nice job, man. You crushed it.”
“Gentleman, that was fantastic,” one of the women from Remedy stands and walks over to us. “I think I speak for the three of us when I say you surprised us and exceeded the expectations of what we could have wanted for this campaign. Your ideas are forward and celebrate female embodiment. Well done.” She turns to Dave. “We want them on the account. Send over the paperwork by the end of the day so we can get this going.”
The room clears out one by one after we shake hands with our new clients, leaving Dave, Jeffrey, and me alone after the girls give us dirty looks as they pass by.
“Damn, Damien. And Jeffrey. You guys did it.” Dave declares proudly, shaking both of our hands. “Seems you did just need to get in touch with your feminine side after all.”
“I have to give Damien most of the credit. He came up with that last-minute adjustment that helped bring it full circle,” Jeffrey explains, hugging me from the side, borderline inappropriately.
I shake him off. “Thanks, man. But you and the graphics team did a great job bringing it to life.”
“I tried to model the business woman after Charlotte as best I could. I think they did a pretty good job matching her ass,” he says as I shoot him a death glare. “What? You said…”
“Jeffrey, stop while you’re ahead,” Dave suggests with a grin on his face. “This is big, guys. Really fucking big for Goldstein. Looks like a promotion is in your future soon.” He winks before heading for the door. “I’ll be in touch.”
When he leaves, Jeffrey and I turn to each other and lock in a manly hug before sharing a handshake. “Fuck yeah, man. We did it.”
“We did,” I say, but my excitement is short-lived. There’s only one other person I want to share this with, and I’m still not sure what to say to her.
“Just call her, Damien.”
I shake my head. “I know her, Jeffrey. She’ll call me when she’s ready.”
“But what if she doesn’t? What if you never hear from her again?”
His hypothetical suggestion sinks in, but I can’t accept it as truth. “I don’t think that will happen. I’m trusting my gut on this one. Sometimes we have to have faith in what our heart knows. And I know that Charlotte loves me. She just needs to get to the point where she can admit it.”
“Ugh. You’ve turned into a lovesick sap, and I fucking love it.”
I laugh as we head back toward our offices. “I owe you a celebratory lunch, fucker. Meet me in thirty minutes, and we’ll go out to celebrate.”
“Deal.”
I step inside my office, leaning up against the door after I close it and breathing out a sigh of relief. Everything ended up working out the way I wanted it to.
So why do I feel sad and defeated? Why do I feel like this moment that should feel like watching fireworks on the Fourth of July is more like watching rain cascade down a window while being trapped on the other side?
I got the account, got the promotion, and proved that my skills shouldn’t be limited to one area in this job. This serves as validation—to both myself and my father—that making this choice for my future, choosing this career, was the best thing I could have done for myself.
But success doesn’t feel so monumental without someone to share it with, someone that knows how hard I worked to get here.
Someone like a certain brunette that I can’t get out of my mind.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I dig it out as quickly as I can, hoping to see one name in particular on the screen. But when I see my mother’s face staring back at me in her contact picture, my pulse spikes as I answer the call. “Hey, Mom.”
“Damien?” she says through tears, her voice broken and her breathing heavy.
“Mom? What’s wrong?”
“I’m…I’m at the police station, honey.”
Red clouds my vision before panic accompanies it. “What happened?”
“Your father…he…”
“What did he do, Mom?”
