On The Edge

It isn’t the rush hour traffic or the same daily routine that bothers me. I like routine most days, like knowing what to expect when I get up in the morning. What I hate is every day, trying to come up with the “next big thing”, the great idea that will have people sitting up and taking notice. The idea that will cause millions of YouTube hits and viral conversation to span the world on Facebook.

For a marketing executive, the next big thing is like the Great American Novel to a writer. It’s the Holy Grail. It’s also elusive, like catching dandelion fluff in a breeze. Nowadays, consumers are jaded and fickle, quick to move from the latest gadget to the next amidst a constant storm of competing products and ideas. Few things ever stay relevant long enough to truly be on top for longer than a brief few minutes of glory. Fifteen minutes of fame no longer exists, it’s been cut down to about five.

And yet here I sit, trying not to let my gaze become fixed as I listen to Edward, the marketing director, drone on about the latest toothpaste, our next product we’ve been charged with promoting. Saving America’s teeth, one mouth at a time. Could there be any higher calling than this?

“We need something fresh, something new, something no one else has ever done before,” he proclaimed, pacing before us and waving his arms with each statement. “I want each of you to get outside the box on this one, be bold.”

I looked across the table at Margie, our newest team member. Rumor had it she was stolen from a rival firm by one of the upper management. Stolen or not, she’d shown herself to be quiet, only speaking when she had something worthwhile to say. A cool head in a marketing department can be an invaluable advantage and it didn’t hurt she was very easy on the eyes. I watched as a curtain of her long black hair fell forward from behind her ear, obscuring one side of her face as she diligently took notes. I imagined running my hands through those silky strands, her perfect red lips pressed against mine in passion.

Edward clapped loudly, “Great work everyone, let’s get to it”, and I jerked in my seat, startled from my daydream.

“Wake up time Billy,” Andrew, my co-worker for the past three years and cubicle-partner slapped me on the shoulder as he walked past, presumably headed back to our shared office space. I stood to join the rest of my colleagues and return to my desk.

“Bill, can you stay a minute?” Edward said, looking toward me. I nodded and watched as everyone streamed past, headed for the safety and oblivion of their eight-by-ten cubicle villages.

“Go ahead and close the door, would you?”

I complied but stood near it, unsure what to do with myself. I tuck my hands in my pockets, conscious of their sudden dampness.

“So, it’s that time of year again, isn’t it?” Edward said, looking up at me from where he’d taken a seat at the end of the table.

“Time of year?” I ask.

“Performance review time.”

“Oh, yes,” I reply, struggling to remember when the actual review was due. I’d received an email about it the week before but only skimmed it. I tried to remember when the actual review was scheduled for and said lamely, “that time of year.”

“And, it appears we’ll very soon have a senior marketing position opening up. Did you know that?”

I shook my head.

“You’ve been with the firm for six years now. As the most senior and experienced of the current marketing executives, I would expect you’re going to put forth your best effort on this campaign.”

I nodded.

“That’s good, because I’ll certainly be watching.” Edward stood. “Oh and good work on the Donovan Law Firm. The numbers have been really good on that campaign.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“That’ll be all.”

I nodded, unsure what else to say and hurried out of the glass enclosed conference room. My mind was reeling. Did that really just happen? Did my boss just tell me I was being considered for a promotion? And if so, did I even actually want it? Sure it would mean more money but it would also mean longer hours spent hob-knobbing with clients and prospects, plus overseeing a team. But it would take off some of the pressure to come up with new ideas and give me a chance to oversee the idea-generators, a position which had its benefits. Not to mention, senior marketing meant a nice bonus program.

Instead of turning toward my cubicle, I headed toward the break room, sure I’d find Andrew there, hovering around the coffee pot. True to form, there he stood, sipping from his signature coffee cup inscribed with “Carpe Diem: Seize the Day” on it in bright orange letters.
“Hey man, what’d the boss want to see you about?” Andrew asked as soon as he saw me. I looked around the break room, relieved to see we were the only ones.

“A new position’s opening up,” I said, reaching for a Styrofoam cup. I watched Andrew’s face out of the corner of my eye and was pleased to see the surprise flood his face.

“And?”

“And,” I said and raised my fingers in a quotation marks sign, “he’s going to be watching me. Performance review.”

“Dude, that’s awesome. Nobody on the team’s been around here long enough to possibly compete with you. You’re practically a no-brainer for the position.”

I nodded, taking in his words.

“We gotta celebrate. Meet me tonight, seven o’clock, at Brady’s. First shot’s on me.”

“You know me; I’ll never turn down a free drink.” I said, as we walked out of the break room and toward our desks. “But first we gotta come up with something good for this toothpaste.” We rounded the corner and on my desk sat a large cardboard box.

Andrew flipped open the box flap and pulled out a square box, “Samples are here.” He tossed one to me. The box rattled as I caught it, the toothpaste inside bouncing against the box’s confines. I studied the plain packaging before me. It was striped in diagonal green and white lines and labeled “Minty Fresh”. Not the most inspiring packaging I’d ever seen.

“What do you think?” Andrew asked.

I shook my head. “I think I could use that shot now.”

***
The bass from the live band made the air outside the bar reverberate and once inside, I feared my teeth might crack from the jarring cymbals and drum beats. Brady’s was a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, with a dark interior perfect for getting close to that special someone and yet tinged with the undertone of stale beer and cigarette smoke. A favorite of college students, it frequently featured local “talent”, bands who worked cheap and just wanted an opportunity to get exposure for their music. I looked through the early evening crowd, trying to find Andrew. I made my way toward the bar and spotted him on the other side. He waved to me and I wound my way through the crowd.

“Hey buddy!” Andrew hollered in between drum beats. “I hope you don’t mind but I invited a few others from the office.” I nodded and looked past him. Standing behind him was a dumpy middle-aged man wearing a polo shirt and slacks. Next to him stood a taller, leaner version whose pale complexion screamed computer geek. And standing with her back to the table, elbows propped behind her and waist-length black hair swaying to the beat, was Margie. I felt my chest tighten at the sight of her.

“This is Jack, he’s in Accounting.” I shook Jack’s damp hand and resisted the urge to immediately dry my hand on my pants. “This is Steve from IT.” I nodded at him from across the table. “And, of course, you know Margie.” Margie turned her head and sent a polite smile my way before returning to watching the band. A Heineken sat sweating at her elbow.

Andrew put both hands to his lips and gave a piercing whistle that could just barely be heard through the reverberating percussion. A waitress in a low cut white top and skin tight black shorts, serving tray in hand, soon appeared. Andrew ordered a round of shots and the drinking began.

After the third round of shots, the band thankfully took a break and some classic rock and roll played through the speakers at a volume a little more conducive to conversation. Jack and Steve began to discuss the processing advantages between the Intel I5 and I7 processors while Andrew flirted with the waitress. Margie stared off into the crowd, occasionally sipping her beer.

At a loss for anything else to talk about, I brought up the only topic I could think of. “So, made any progress on the Minty Fresh project?”

Margie’s head swiveled toward me, perfectly arched eyebrows raised above velvet black eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I asked if you’ve come up with anything for the Minty Fresh project?”

She gave a rueful smile. “Not really. The packaging isn’t exactly anything awe-provoking.”

“Yeah, I wonder if they got their designer from a Cracker Jack box instead of a proper ad agency.”

Margie grinned at me and took a sip of her beer. I felt the silence grow longer and struggled to find another conversation point. “So, how do you like it so far with us at E & M?”

“It’s okay. Different from my last firm.”

“How so?”

“More collaborative, not so cut-throat.”

“Are you from here?”

“No, I just moved here from New York.”

I nodded and filed it away in the back of my mind. Being new to the area made it unlikely she had a boyfriend.

“Liking Dallas so far? It must be pretty different from New York.”

“Well, it’s not the city that never sleeps but yeah, so far I like it.”

Suddenly, Margie was shoved hard against the small table in front of us, and her chest bumped into her drink, sending it spinning across the table. I moved sideways as a stream of beer shot across the table. I looked back at Margie, who was shoving a man away, his long dark hair hanging in front of his face. I moved around the table and cupped her elbow, holding my hand against the chest of the man in front of her. A large wet spot soaked the front of her red blouse. The man stumbled around us, headed for the bathroom in unsteady, lurching steps. The smell of beer was suddenly stronger.

“Are you ok?”

Margie nodded and grabbed a napkin from the table and dabbed at her blouse.

“Do you have a change of clothes in your car?” Margie shook her head. “Wanna get out of here?” Margie nodded and after saying our goodbyes, we headed to the door. Outside, the night air had gotten crisp and the stars shown bright without any clouds to obscure them. I opened the passenger side door to my car, which I’d thankfully parked near the door and when assured Margie was comfortably inside, made my way into the driver’s seat. We didn’t talk much as she directed me to her place. I pulled up in front of her townhome and hurried around to open her door.

She made her way up the sidewalk, teetering a little on tall stilettos. A crack in the sidewalk almost made her lose her balance and I put my arm around her waist to steady her. She let me brace her as she fumbled to fit her key into the lock. An orange pumpkin stood next to the door and I wondered if it had been there since the last Halloween. I could tell the drinks were affecting her more than me and hesitated on the porch. She looked at me over her shoulder, “You coming?” I nodded and followed her inside.

“I’ll be right back; I’m just going to clean up real quick. Living room is straight ahead, make yourself at home.” I listened to her slow steps on the stairs, trying not to imagine her slender legs and the sway of her hips as I made my way down a narrow tiled hallway and into a spacious living room. A modest flat screen television hung on the wall and a fireplace took up another wall, across from which was a sectional sofa in a deep burgundy. I decided to make myself useful and started a fire in the fireplace.

Margie appeared a few minutes later, barefoot, in jeans and a long sleeve black shirt, carrying two wine glasses half full of red wine. She handed one to me and then sat next to me.

“Andrew told me something interesting today,” she said, looking at the swirling wine in her glass.

“Andrew always has something interesting to say,” I said with a chuckle. “What’d he come up with this time?”

“I’ve seen you watching me.” She looked at me and I found myself unable to look away. “He says you like me.”

I swallowed, trying to think of something to say, unused to a woman being so forward. The complications were too numerous to contemplate, the most cardinal of which is romantic relationships in the workplace. Before I could speak, Margie set her drink on the coffee table in front of us and leaned toward me. Feeling a bit like I was dreaming, I cupped her cheek, marveling at the softness and warmth of her skin as well as her invitation. Her eyes drifted closed, long lashes shadowing her flawless skin. I kissed her slowly, trying to remember to breathe, wanting to savor the rush of heat that blew through me like a lightning bolt. Her lips tasted like red wine and fit mine so well I felt sure I could lose myself in kissing her. I gently cupped the back of her head and ran my fingers through her cool tresses, marveling at the way they flowed through my fingers, like the finest silk, far better than I had imagined. When we finally parted, her porcelain cheeks were flushed with heat, her eyes lidded in drowsy desire. Without a word, she took my hand and led me toward the stairs.

***
“So Billy-boy, what’d you do last night?” Andrew asked in a low voice, swiveling toward me with a cocky smile.

I rolled my eyes. “None of your business.”

“Did you take her home?”

I didn’t respond.

“Well, you’re welcome. I knew you’d never make a move on your own.”

Before I could respond my phone line rang. Not taking my eyes off the report on my screen, I picked up the phone. “This is Bill.”

“Hey, it’s Margie.”

“Good morning.”

“Dinner tonight? My place?”

I nodded. “Sure. What time?”

“Six thirty. Bring dessert if you want.”

I said goodbye and hung up. A new window popped up on my screen, a calendar reminder. “Oh shit!” I exclaimed and jumped up out of my seat. I yanked my jacket on over my shirt.

“What’s up?’

“My performance review meeting is today. I thought it was next week.”

“Good luck, man.”

“Thanks,” I said, grabbed my notepad and a pen then sprinted down the hall for the elevators.

***
That night I lay in bed, tossing and turning. The meeting for Minty Fresh was Friday, two days from now and I still hadn’t come up with a solid idea to share at the brainstorming session. I looked over at the clock; the bright red letters read two thirty in the morning. My brain was abuzz with images of Margie, the feel of her, the smell of her perfume that still lingered on my skin from our passion earlier that evening. I rolled over, tried to pound the pillow into submission and tried to clear my head enough to sleep.

Just as it was starting to work, I bolted upright, a buzz of inspiration bringing me out of my half-sleep. I scrambled to my desk, brushing aside papers, a broken comb, seeking a pen and paper. I found a pen and yanked a blank piece of paper from the printer tray. In huge letters I wrote “Seize the Day with Minty Fresh!” I stared at what I had written and grinned at the tingle in my fingertips. This would be the idea that would set me apart and secure my promotion into management.

Friday I arrived early for the staff meeting, print outs of slides as well as a PowerPoint presentation ready to share with the group. I sat in the first seat and waiting, my nerves jangling with the rush of adrenaline from a new idea and the anticipation of sharing it. Everyone began to filter into the conference room at eight. Margie sat across from me with a restrained smile, avoiding holding eye contact for too long. Once everyone was settled,

Edward spoke. “Okay team, what do we have?”

“Edward, I’d like to present a proposal, if I may?” I spoke up. Everyone looked at me in surprise. I knew what they were thinking – it was too early for a proposal.

“Alright Bill, the floor is yours.” Edward said and relinquished his seat for mine. I dimmed the lights and turned on the PowerPoint presentation. Dramatic music filled the room as a series of images filled the screen. After a minute, the presentation ended, I turned the lights back up, and sat down to listen to the feedback. For a long time no one spoke.

“I am impressed,” Edward said. “That’s bold, it’s powerful, it’s direct.”

I nodded.

“Does anyone have anything they’d like to share?”

No one moved.

“Alright, let’s put it together. Bill, you’ll be lead on this and report directly to me.” Once we set up a meeting for that afternoon for everyone to come together and get started putting together marketing materials, designs, and a schedule for launch, we adjourned the meeting.

As I gathered my materials, Edward walked up to me. “That was a really impressive presentation Bill.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“You pull this campaign off and I’ll be making a direct recommendation for senior management.”

I nodded and smiled. “I’d appreciate a recommendation from you sir.”

“Keep up the good job.”

***
The spring weeks headed quickly into summer and before I knew it each day was a blur of meetings as we moved into the final stages of the campaign development. One evening, laying on the couch, running my hands through Margie’s hair, she looked at me.

“My parents are coming to town next week.”

“Okay,” I said.

“I’d like you to meet them.”

I forced myself to keep my hand steady, to smooth her hair gently down her back, to keep my breathing even and not give away the shock she’d sent through me. After a moment I opened my eyes. “Meet your parents?”

“Yes,” she said. “Don’t you want to?”

“Well, sure I do. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all,” I said. That night, as I headed home, I pondered what it meant. I certainly hadn’t dated a lot of women but generally meeting the parents was a pretty serious step and meant a certain level of commitment in a relationship. I wasn’t sure an office romance would be looked upon too positively by my boss, especially when being considered for a promotion. I decided to put it out of my mind and just see where things would lead. What harm could there be?

***
In September, the Seize the Day campaign for Minty Fresh launched nationwide with a series of television commercials and print ads in magazines. A social media campaign rolled out at the same time and the campaign immediately went viral. Never before had a toothpaste commercial been so popular.

A month to the day after the campaign’s launch, YouTube registered a million views. Edward brought in champagne and everyone proceeded to get good and drunk, celebrating the success of a multi-million dollar advertising program.

I stood in the corner of the conference room, listening to Andrew tell another of his many conquest stories, this time about a cheerleader at Texas A & M University.

“I’m telling you what man, those cheerleaders are so flexible. When she would do a split I swear I thought I’d lose it right there.”

I took a sip of my champagne and out of the corner of my eye, saw Edward head toward Margie who was refilling her glass. I’d been aching to talk with her all night, wishing the night would hurry up and end. I watched Edward lean toward her and then watched as she threw her head back and laughed at something he said. The feeling of success, so pervasive the whole night, suddenly tasted like ashes in my mouth.

***
I didn’t speak, simply walked in the door.

“Well, hello to you too,” Margie said, closing the door behind me.

“What the hell were you doing?”

Margie crossed her arms. “Could you be a bit more specific?”

“With Edward. At the office. Are you sleeping with him too?”

Margie gasped in shock and hurt flooded her eyes. I ignored the guilt that twisted in my gut.

“How dare you!”

“Answer the question. Are you sleeping with him?”

“Of course not,” she said. “Do you know me so little that you would even think that?”

“Well, you sure looked cozy enough tonight.”

“I think you should leave,” Margie said, and held the door open again. “Call me if you come to your senses.”

***
A few weeks later, Edward called me into his office. “Bill, please, have a seat.”

I sat in the high backed leather chair before his office.

“It’s come to my attention that you may have engaged in some inappropriate behavior with one of our staff members. Therefore, we’ve decided it would be best if we brought in an outside candidate to fill the senior management position.”

I sat in shock. “What about the Minty Fresh campaign?”

“We’ll be putting Mitch in charge of that.”

And just like that, just like so many consumer products, replaced by the newest and greatest idea or gadget, so I too had been replaced for the newest idea generator.

I stood, suddenly clear for the first time in what my path needed to be. “Actually Edward, thanks but I’ll be submitting my resignation this afternoon.” Without a backwards glance, I left his office and headed down the hall to the elevator. Inside, I tried to calm my nerves, hoping against hope I wouldn’t be too late. As soon as the elevator doors opened, I headed down the hall and stopped beside Margie’s cubicle. She looked up at me, and then sat back in her seat.

“I’m resigning.”

Margie raised an eyebrow in surprise but said nothing.

“I was an idiot to you. Worse than an idiot. I was an ass. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just hope it’s not too late for you to forgive me.”

Margie stood and stepped in front of me. “And?”

I stared at her for a moment, at a loss for what she could mean. Then it struck me. This quiet woman, who neither minced words nor used more than was absolutely necessary, had known what I was too blind to see.

“I love you,” I said, pulling her into my arms.

Margie simply smiled then kissed me, her beautiful hair falling around me like a silken waterfall.

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