Riggs glanced at his watch, careful to move his eyes and not his head. An hour and thirty minutes, give or take, they had been in the meeting, brainstorming and developing marketing ideas for a new skin formulation that promised and delivered rejuvenated skin. Utilizing nano-technology, the product provided the hormones and chemical structure that made the skin that of a twenty-year old. Never mind that the customers would be in their forties, fifties, and sixties; the result was the same: skin that looked, felt, and acted like that of a twenty-year-old. The developer, a biochemist who had been let go from his research position at a major cosmetic corporation during the economic downturn of 2009, had been toying with the concept for a year or more and did the theoretical work on his own in his modest apartment. He had spent the next two years getting the formulation patented and trying to find a company that would produce his product. The concept was so complex and so revolutionary that most companies contacted thought it was some Amazonian witchcraft and completely impossible to visualize. After all, reprogramming skin cells to produce youthful materials like collagen was something found in wistful narratives and sci-fi novels. Jeremiah Hartsheim had opened the scientific door to the appearance of youth, an evasive and ever-elusive condition sought by tens of million women and even men. Such a product, applied topically, would supplant minor cosmetic surgery, and, as long as it was used weekly, continued to give the appearance of skin that was perhaps several decades younger. The profit potential was enormous, probably in the ten billion-dollar range over the useful patent life of the product, and if successfully marketed, could sprout a dozen other products that would enhance the brand name and ensure its longevity. In short, Jeremiah Hartsheim was sitting on a gold mine with unlimited potential.
Price, Wilkinson, Wilkamp, and Farthington had lobbied hard to get the account. Two of the principals of the marketing company had made a presentation to Mr. Hartsheim and had been most compelling. They offered substantial profit potential, an opportunity to even own stock in the marketing firm, and guaranteed a minimum return on investment—something never offered to anyone who produced a product in today’s fickle marketplace. Mr. Hartsheim could hardly resist such a bold and assiduous offer, and so, the skin cream, yet to be named, was to be marketed by the Price, Wilkinson, Wilkamp, and Farthington Firm. Such was the world of marketing.
All five of the account managers were required to be at the meeting, though none of them had been either offered the account, nor had they been given details of any of the terms of the agreement with Mr. Hartsheim. Riggs looked around the table. Robert (“don’t call me Bob”) Fitzwater was surreptitiously looking at his Blackberry, Lorelei Ving was rapt and attentive, Gregg Justice was writing something on his notepad, and the youngest member of the team, Brandon James Price, son of one of the founders of the firm, was eye-balling Lorelei. Lorelei was a lovely and statuesque beauty that had been with the firm about a year. She was somewhat of an enigma to the rest of the team, though she was pleasant, gregarious, and had a killer smile. The product of an American soldier and Asian mother, she possessed the best qualities of each. She was bright and beautiful, and she had inherited her father’s height genes, standing a lovely five-feet nine inches tall.
It was no secret that Brandon James Price had eyes for her and it was also well known that she had rebuffed his advances in the interest, as she had so aptly put it, of the professional workplace and the fact they had to work as colleagues, so it just wasn’t a good thing to have an office relationship. The problem was that Brandon James Price didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer, thus his tongue hung down like that of a Labrador retriever.
Jason Riggs glanced back at the power-point presentation and wondered just who was going to get this account? His bet was on Brandon. His old man had given the kid a job, even though he brought little to the firm and showed little if any interest in marketing. None of the usual information about college major or prior experience, or proclivity for the profession was made available to any of the other account managers. Riggs had been with the firm for three years and was second in account manager seniority. He had graduated from the University of Wisconsin at Madison and worked while in college for a small advertising firm in the city. The experience had provided Riggs with the confidence and exposure that he carried with him to Chicago and the firm of Price, Wilkinson, Wilkamp, and Farthington. Farthington, who died just after Riggs had been hired had been the one who interviewed him, and had mentored him for several months after being hired. Farthington was old school, had a no-nonsense attitude about the business, and could see through a pile of crap in a second. Riggs had taken an immediate liking to the man and had done his best to make the old man proud that he had hired him. Farthington had died suddenly of a massive heart attack but his wife retained an interest in the firm and was paid a portion of the annual profits, an arrangement that had been made when the firm was originally started, thus the firm still carried his name.
The meeting ended with the charge to each of the account managers to bring ideas to tomorrow’s meeting about naming the product, clever marketing ideas, and why specifically each manager should have the privilege of managing the account. The successful manager would inherit a relative gold mine with bonuses that could amount to several million dollars over the years. Of course, with the promise of wealth came the stress of maintaining a successful relationship with the stakeholder, and realizing the promise that this new product held. If the marketing campaign failed, it would be a long fall to the pavement from the eighteenth floor of the Michigan Avenue building they now sat in.
Jason Riggs left the room and headed to his cubicle. He had mixed feelings about the account. He saw wealth and fame in this account but he also saw enormous