Chapter 1: Chaos

Alex Stapleton wheeled the Range Rover into the parking lot of First National Bank. He grabbed his portfolio from the back seat and sprinted to the doors. A quick check of his watch made it official: 9:06 am. He was late. Again.

As a regular visitor, Alex’s name was on the list at reception and the security guard waved him in. He found an open elevator and hit the button for the18th floor. As the doors closed, he took his first full breath of air since leaving his office.

John Stevens was a typical client. Stevens had worked at the bank for seven years. He had landed a job as business account manager straight out of business school. He spent a few years lending money to small businesses and then got a job at the bank’s head office in marketing. Prematurely bald and rail thin, he seemed angry at life for dealing him a bum set of physical cards. Stevens had no formal training in marketing, yet he insisted on directing every detail of Alex’s work.

“Sorry I’m late John. Traffic was…

“Did you bring the mock ups” Stevens asked Alex impatiently.

Alex unzipped his portfolio, wiped his brow and settled in for the long hall. Alex unveiled the first design and John Stevens didn’t flinch. No reaction. Alex began to explain the designer’s vision for the piece and Stevens waved him off.

“Let’s see the next one”

Alex presented all eight concepts while Stevens looked on with an intense scowl. After some long, silent minutes, Stevens selected the design that was least offensive to him and started to offer his instructions. He wanted the picture smaller, the font changed, the red to be more of an ‘orange red’ instead of the ‘pink red’ Alex’s designer had offered. Stevens’ feedback droned on. Alex felt as if he was back in primary school. Despite being woefully unqualified, Stevens seemed to be relishing his new role as art critic.

Alex left the meeting room promising Stevens another round of mock-ups on Monday morning. He pulled out of the parking lot feeling broken.

****

If Stevens were the exception, Alex could have lived with that but unfortunately, Stevens was a good representation of the bulk of Alex’s clients: marketing managers with crappy jobs who seemed to like pushing around their marketing agency.

Alex had started The Stapleton Agency eight years ago after a career at a blue chip agency. He started doing logos and brochures for small businesses and gradually moved up to being an “Approved Vendor” for First National Bank. Having Approved Vendor status meant the bank paid their bills and kept The Stapleton Agency on a short list of alternative suppliers to their Agency Of Record. When small jobs came up that First National’s main marketing agency turned their nose up at, The Stapleton Agency would be summoned.

When Alex started the agency he dreamed of working on important campaigns and big TV budgets. He imagined directing models and actors between booze-soaked lunches with Chief Marketing Officers. He wanted to be part of the scene.

Instead, he was trying to figure out how to explain to his designer that she would need to work the weekend because the client, a man who had never taken a design course, and was essentially a middle manager doing a job he was completely unqualified for, wanted the red changed to ‘Orange red’.

****

The Stapleton Agency was located in a funky part of the city just west of downtown. Alex paid $4,000 a month for more space than he needed with the hopes it would impress clients. The office had all of the requisite touches befitting of a creative shop: exposed brick walls, glass encased boardroom, twelve foot board room table with Polycom phone centered and permanently mounted projector overhead.  Sadly, it rarely served its purpose — First National Bank insisted Alex come to them.

Alex tried to slip into his office without Sarah noticing but she heard his keys jangle. She looked up from her computer and inquired:  “How did it go?.”

Alex stalled, “Pretty good, he had a few changes but nothing major. I’ll come see you in a few minutes.” With that, Alex went into his office and shut the door. He needed caffeine. The day’s mail was on his desk and he quickly scanned it for the familiar blue and gold logo of First National Bank. He was expecting a check. Nothing.

Alex collected his thoughts and prioritized the next few hours. He needed to get Sarah working on the First National changes, he had to get across town for lunch, get back to write a proposal and find time to call his banker.

Sarah rolled her eyes as Alex delivered the news. He was desperately trying to deliver the verdict without squashing Sarah’s motivation and further amplifying the hatred she already felt towards John Stevens and the bank he worked for. She accepted her sentence, dawned her sound canceling earphones as if to shut out the sorry world she found herself in, and set about finding an Orange-red that would appease Lord Stevens.

Alex hated himself for not standing up to John Stevens. He felt weak but the reality was, The Stapleton Agency could not afford to lose First National as a client. Last month, the bank amounted to $48,000 of The Stapleton Agency’s $120,000 in total billings. Alex, Sarah and the other seven employees of The Stapleton Agency needed First National.

****

Traffic was tight on the way across town and Alex was late for his second meeting of the day. Sandy Garmalo sat at the table sipping San Pellegrino. Sandy had been a client for five years. She headed up marketing for a law firm in town. Sandy and her firm never generated any huge billings for The Stapleton Agency but they were steady which required that Alex spring for lunch once a quarter.

For Sandy, Alex’s lunches were a nice little escape from the over bearing lawyers she served. The waiter arrived and asked if they would like a drink. Alex was about to ask for a Diet Coke when Sandy preempted him:

“I’ll have a glass of your house white”

Alex had too much to do that afternoon but knew letting Sandy drink on her own would make lunch awkward.

“I’ll have the same,” Alex said promising himself he would nurse one glass.

Sandy was a divorced forty something women ten years Alex’s senior. She enjoyed flirting with him and Alex obliged knowing that a little harmless flirting would keep the projects flowing to The Stapleton Agency.

Appetizers were picked at. More wine arrived. Sandy droned on about the lawyers she worked for over an interminably long lunch that Sandy seemed determined to prolong. Alex sat increasingly less interested in Sandy’s prattle. Eventually, the waiter cleared the plates. Dessert was offered and refused. Coffee was offered and Sandy accepted. Alex, resigning himself to another ten minutes of meaningless banter, ordered an espresso.

The bill came and Alex produced his Platinum card. One of the perks of owning The Stapleton Agency was the ability to charge $8,000 worth of expenses per month on his Amex generating a nice stash of travel points he promised himself he would use this year for a vacation with his family. Alex sat nervously as the waiter went away to ask the Amex gods for a little bit of understanding. Alex had been late paying off his balance last month and been cut off until his account was back in good standing. He knew his bill was due again some time this week and he only hoped the date had not passed.

The waiter returned and the card had snuck under the watchful eyes of the Amex credit department. Alex smiled, took the card and got on with the business of extracting himself from lunch. Sandy made some vague overtures about upcoming projects she would need The Stapleton Agency’s help with. Alex looked interested and finally escaped.

He stopped at Starbucks on the way home for a second coffee that he hope would sober him up enough to write the proposal he desperately wanted to be accepted.

****

The Request For Proposal had come in from a local Sporting goods retailer called SportsMax.  They had grown tired of their agency and were looking for a new marketing shop to handle all of their work which included newspaper ads, local radio spots, store banners and an e-commerce enabled website.

Alex knew his team could handle the print ads and in store signage. He had a friend at a radio production house who could help with the radio work. Most of the website would be outsourced, but SportsMax did not need to know that.

After pasting the requisite drivel about the history of his agency, its creative credentials and awards, Alex started to estimate his fees. There would be hard costs for studio time, proofs, freelance web designers. Then he tried to estimate the time of his staff. He billed his designers at $200 per hour and his own time was billed at $300 per hour. These were largely arbitrary rates established over time by gleaning insight about how competitors charged.

Alex hated the process of estimating hours. He knew is was an inexact science and that his actual hours invested would have no resemblance to what he was estimating. Creating marketing material was such an iterative process that there was no way to estimate his time accurately.

After four hours of writing and fuzzy math, the proposal was done. It was 6:30pm and he had missed the FedEx guy for the day so he dropped the proposal off at the depot himself on the way home. He handed it over to the clerk and hoped SportsMax would be the client that would finally make him less reliant on First National Bank and the likes of John Stevens.

Given the late hour, it was probably safe to call Mary’s office. Mary was his account manager at First National Bank where he was required to move his banking relationship in recognition of making it onto the approved vendor list. Mary had kids so she usually left by 5:30pm. Alex was bumping up against the $150,000 line of credit Mary had granted him. Ironically he was expecting a check from Mary’s employer today but it had not arrived.

“Hi, you’ve reached the confidential voice mail of Mary Pradham. Please leave a message”

“Hi Mary, its Alex Stapleton…listen, I meant to call you earlier but the day got away from me. I’m on my way home and wanted to leave you a message to let you know everything is fine. I know I’m getting close to my limit.  We should be getting some checks in on Monday. Give me a call if you have any concerns.”

Alex hoped his voice mail would buy him a few days reprieve. The Stapleton Agency provided Alex with a decent living for his family and a great vehicle for tax write offs. He ran the Range Rover through the business and whenever he eat out with friends, he was sure to keep the bill. He had been able to bonus himself $150,000 last year which, when added to his $100,000 per year salary, meant his total compensation was $250,000 last year. Not bad, but the cash flow was lumpy and this was not his first late night call to Mary Pradham.