The agency attends a meeting of the sector. a dinner, no less. It gets “awkward”.
Carla and Joe had been warily getting to a more trustworthy stage of their relationship, in between very hectic work schedules. There’d also been a delay while Carla removed a few impediments in the form of casual boyfriends, the occasional and largely useless variety. They now went out reasonably regularly, sometimes with Dorothy and Al, who were also trying to have a relationship while being staggeringly busy. Unlike Dorothy and Al, they hadn’t yet got physical, largely because Joe was extremely shy, and Carla, who wasn’t, was a bit worried he might embarrass himself and seize up on her. She’d never seen a guy so totally lacking in self confidence. She decided that meant lacking in conceit, too, which was a nice change.
Joe, not an actual wallflower, wasn’t just shy. A truly frightened male, who was at this stage looking at Carla like any guy who sees the woman he really loves, was in and out of denial. She eclipsed anyone else, easily. Comparisons were just funny. He was rather amused to note that for such an attractive woman, what really appealed to him most was her company. Never dull, never mean, never trivial. She also wasn’t a gold digger; he’d seen her be positively rude to some very well known walking bank statements. Interestingly, she also actually intimidated some very self-assured individuals, and did it almost offhand.
Tonight they were off to a sort of informal dinner with some industry people. Dorothy and Al arrived at Carla’s place like a pair of shoes. They looked like a perfect fit for each other. Both Carla and Joe separately wondered how they matched up as a couple. They were thinking “we” a lot more often these days, and each felt they were a bit of a liability to the other. Carla, whose lack of vanity was bordering on the unjustifiable, was from a very straightforward background, and was a little awed by Joe’s family despite their desperately restrained efforts. They loved her too, and were trying not to be off-putting about showing it. Joe was so sick of tedious little socialites he was barely able to stay in a room with them if he accidentally happened to be there, was worried that Carla might find his family’s somewhat inevitable social circle too boring. He did. She didn’t seem to blame them for such people, but the most tolerant person has a limit.
Dorothy and Al were having a bet with each other about how long it would take Carla and Joe to get over this particular non-existent hurdle. Dorothy thought Carla would see how utterly irrelevant other people were to them, and break down the obstacle course. She therefore thought things would happen pretty quickly, given Carla’s known dislike of unnecessary problems. Al thought Joe was truly hooked, and being Joe, would have to disentangle himself from the self doubts and emotional driftwood before things could get moving. He’d given them six months, Dorothy had said three. That was two months ago.
They arrived at the dinner punctually, which made them first in. This was supposed to be an inter-agency affair with a few clients invited. Al had been more than a little surprised to be invited, being a very new player, but evidently one of their own clients had had something to say about it, so there they were. Sure enough, in walked Sally, looking terrifying, as usual, with one of her own designs. Carla was wearing another. Sally was by now the toast of the trade, and had badly wanted some reliable people at the dinner with her. She was getting more than a little tired of being fawned upon, and wanted some real company.
Sally’s designs for evening wear were bordering on the revolutionary. If there was anything that had never been done before, she’d do it, or at least try it. Both she and Carla were like fireworks displays, radiant, using among other innovations holographic cameos, and a sort of animation in the fabric which made the eagles on Sally’s gold dress fly seamlessly. Carla’s basically green dress had waves crashing on a beach around the neckline. There were several patents involved. Dorothy hadn’t thought she could wear things like that, but was now rather wishing she had. The designs weren’t really ostentatious, or particularly “daring” in terms of revealing anything, but they were very elegant.
Sally had brought with her a male of some sort, a designer friend called Aaron, evidently not a boyfriend, but tolerable, despite being an obvious rag trade itinerant. The four of them soon gathered he was no tourist in the business, and listened approvingly as he described his vain attempts to stop Sally from making that particular dress.
“He said it would destroy civilization and ruin the morals of generations to come,” explained Sally, grinning like an enthusiastic leopard.
“To which she replied that it was about time, and wanted to know why she hadn’t thought of it before,” said Aaron, with a degree of mock despair that approached a PhD.
They descended into details, Al admitting to himself that he’d never really seen any sort of dress design that had so much thought in it. He’d realized soon enough that Sally was a good businesswoman, but this level of artistic guts and talent had come as a shock, even so. While they talked, the herd arrived, a reasonably bearable collection of execs, obvious escorts, obvious models, obvious modular people, and a few actual heavy hitters, notably the manager of the biggest agency in the country, Belinda Greenberg, who was 50-something and looked like a teenager. It was the first time Al had seen her in person, and it was clear that everyone who’d ever met her had probably underestimated her for that reason. She’d eaten alive several agencies and made them into one very efficient and very throat-cutting business.
He wasn’t sure, but it looked as though the other CEOs were considering tetanus shots before approaching her. She stood alone, with some sort of human attachment who was clearly an employee. She gave a few nods to some of the big names, and stared through the crowd like a killer whale glancing at the sardines. Following her gaze, which had turned stony, Al saw the too-famous Dave Donaldson, who Bill had told Al to avoid. Donaldson was one of those semi-anthropoid events called “flamboyant”, which translates as “insufferable” most of the time. Loud, overweight, and overbearing, and those were his good qualities. He also had a mouth no sewer would have tolerated. Dorothy, glancing at the noise, wasn’t impressed.
“It’s odd, but one look at him, and all I can think is “flasher”. Not good for the digestion.”
Sally looked and commented, “He looks like what he really needs is a plumber.”
“Or a really enthusiastic taxidermist,” agreed Carla.
Joe had noticed that Donaldson had brought a supply of sycophants. That sort usually do. They were already merry to the point of liver failure. They even laughed like sheep. So much noise was coming from their inevitably joined tables that Belinda, who was expected to welcome everyone, decided to do something about it. She went to the microphone and asked,
“David, would you come up here and help me get all this started?”
“Ooh yer in trouble now Dave!……Yeah……” and other sparkling wit followed Donaldson to the stage.
It had shut them up, though, noted Al, who’d been shepherded up to be introduced as a CEO of a new agency with a couple of others. Belinda gave Donaldson the benefit of a stare that could kill cattle, said nothing to him, and said,
“Welcome to the dinner, everyone. We thought it might be a bit less of a media event if we could get together somewhere else but an award night. Friends and guests, rather than clients and agents. I hope you all have a ball. Now I’d like David to introduce you to some of our new competitors in the industry….”
Al did a quick double take. The exact reason for this Gathering Of The Mutually Oppressive was now in question. Belinda didn’t look or act like a neighborhood greeting committee. It had been her idea, though, to have this dinner, and the her ideas tended to be very practical. Dorothy and Sally instantly reacted to the word “competitors”, becoming instinctively alert. Al thought, Demonstration of power, with a bit of possible client-poaching? Carla and Joe both looked very curious, and Aaron looked amused. Things moved on rapidly. Donaldson, having found himself being asked to introduce the newcomers, obviously didn’t know who they were. Belinda smiled indulgently.
“Um….I think we better just get them to tell us a bit about themselves….” With a far too apparent effort, he sobered up. “You, sir, would you like to come and tell us…..your….firm’s name, and what you’ve been doing….”
That meant Al, whose main concern was trying to tell which way Donaldson was likely to fall. He breezed through, getting what might have been an approving blink from Belinda, and grins from his own table. The next party was someone called Chin Tang Ming, an Australian Chinese who’d managed to bridge the gap between Australian and Chinese marketing and was making a not very small fortune in the process. Chen was a lot smaller than Donaldson, and the red neck in Donaldson decided to stick itself out. Donaldson was what Australians call an “Ocker”, which is an abbreviated version of “embarrassingly insular, boorish, ignorant, incredibly ugly, useless, total loss which unfortunately happens to be Australian” in its practical applications.