by Hugh Mackay
‘I don’t have a brief to change the livery. Or the budget for it.’
Linc shrugged. ‘This is just off the top of my head. I’m not writing a strategy. But you know as well as I do what’s the best predictor of purchasing behaviour.’
‘Brand bought last time?’
‘Exactly. Not infallible, obviously, but the best. Which is no help to us, since we have no history to build on. So we go a bit deeper. Brand bought last time just happens to be the biggest contributor to the real predictor.’
‘Brand awareness, obviously,’ said Neroli, determined not to be outgunned, but strangely charmed to have Linc quoting Marketing 101 at her with no sign of embarrassment. There was an endearing naïvety about the man, coupled with an impressive single-mindedness.
‘First brand awareness, to be more precise. The one that first comes to mind. We’re starting with a blank slate, so building brand awareness has to be our number one priority. Number one, two and three, actually.’
The food arrived. Bob resumed his reminiscences. Neroli nodded politely. Linc demolished his steak.
Then he said: ‘Never serve any beer but Bud. Call your escorts for kids and elderly or disabled people Buddies. Have standard Bud fares, and special Spring promotions, maybe with Blossom holiday packages. Keep it all about flowers and the promise of buds – the beauty of buds and the excitement of budding. Sponsor all kinds of upmarket events for emerging artists – budding musicians, budding painters, poets, actors, budding filmmakers. Run the best flower shows in Australia – the grand prize should always be for a perfect bud, and free entry for anyone who can produce a BudJet boarding pass. By the way, ever seen anything more boring than a boarding pass? Yours should be beautiful.’
‘But people only have the boarding pass for an hour or two at the most.’
‘Buds are fleeting, too. Except that you can position yourselves as a budding airline for years – let people think they’re supporting another kind of emerging artist. Crew should all wear buds in their lapels, of course – that’s a no-brainer. They might need to be fake, for durability. You’d have a big bowl of fresh rosebuds at the check-in desk and another at the departure gate. Every time. Every flight.’
‘You said you wouldn’t rule out television,’ said Neroli, with some concern.
‘TV? Hmm.’ Linc affected reflective thought. ‘You could have time-lapse photography, dissolving from an opening bud to a BudJet take-off. Ten seconds max. No words. The most beautiful ten seconds anyone will ever see on television. Just thinking aloud, Neroli. Not writing copy. First thoughts, that’s all. Top-of-the-head stuff.’
Neroli’s concern dissolved in that instant. She had a dreamy look on her face.
‘By the way,’ Linc pushed on, ‘people can too easily get caught up in the safety thing with budget airlines, so I’d stay right away from that. Why remind them of their fears? Change the subject. Say it with flowers. Buds.’
Linc sipped his glass of water and looked out the window, conscious that Neroli and Bob were both staring at him, for different reasons. Neroli’s eyes had widened in frank and open admiration: she couldn’t get enough of Linc. Bob Kelman’s brow had descended into a doleful frown as he tried to imagine himself wedged into an economy seat on BudJet Express.
10
DRAPED OVER THE leather chairs and sofa in Bob Kelman’s office, the three partners in KK&C were reviewing the success of their strategy for managing Lincoln The Hunter.
‘Well,’ said Bob, ‘it’s looking good. Assuming The Ripper goes as well as Linc says it will, I’d say the rest of GBH will be coming our way. We have practically all of Cocky on board and, thanks to Linc, BudJet is almost a certainty.’
‘Thanks to Linc?’ Markus was outraged. ‘He destroys my presentation with his outrageous bloody Ripperman stunt and you’ve been trying to salvage the pitch ever since. Thanks to Linc?’
Bob had not yet broken the news to Markus that Neroli Fishbein was in thrall to Linc and was already discussing specific promotional concepts with him. Nor had he bothered to mention that Linc had comprehensively sabotaged Markus’s TV strategy. That could wait. Bob sensed that BudJet was on the brink of a decision in KK&C’s favour. Get ’em on board first, he thought, then hose Markus down.
‘We’ve had a handsome return on our investment in Linc. But we need to hold him for at least three more months,’ Jhon said. ‘Preferably six. Just until we bed down a deal.’
‘A deal? What deal? BudJet?’ said Markus, puzzled. ‘Surely our main concern, as far as Linc is concerned, is getting The Ripper launched and on its way to international stardom. Jerry Weisbrot has no idea Linc already has one foot outside the tent, and we need to keep it that way until the big guns from Dayton have come and gone. That presentation might be Linc’s finest hour, but it will be ours, too. You wait and see. I have some ideas of my own that will blow your minds. Ripperman is okay as far as it goes, but it’s a very limited child-orientated concept and the way the strategy is going there will be precious little media spend in it. It’s practically all promotion, as far as I can tell. I’ve asked Linc for a briefing but he’s playing it close to his chest. All he’ll say is that YouTube will be our greatest ally, whatever that means. The media department is saying they’ve had no requests for TV bookings at all. None. Can that be right? Why am I being kept in the dark? Anyway, I have my own plans for the presentation, so Linc is eventually going to have to pay attention. Once The Ripper’s up and running, do we really care what Linc does? The man is an asset, no question, but he’s a liability as well.’
The other two partners ignored all this. Bob was staring at Jhon with a raised eyebrow. ‘That’s not what you meant, is it, Jhonno? You meant exactly what you said – a deal. I think you’d better come clean.’
Jhon took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, ran a hand through his hair and lay back on his sofa with a sigh that signalled the deep weariness he affected on occasions when he needed to break unpalatable or controversial news to his partners. He imagined their sympathy for his state of exhaustion might transfer to whatever proposition he was putting to them. It rarely did.
‘Let’s not lose sight of why we decided to start this agency in the first place,’ he said quietly.
‘I know why we started it. Who knows better than I do? I put the whole idea to Bob and then we both approached you.’
‘And do you remember the one big idea that came out of all that talking and planning?’ asked Jhon, still speaking quietly, gently, as if coaxing a witness. ‘Not the simple “hey, let’s start an agency” idea – the big idea.’
‘I remember exactly what the big idea was, Jhon,’ said Markus. ‘We wanted to create the most innovative agency in the country. We wanted to make our clients rich. We wanted to make the industry sit up and take notice.’ A tear was already forming in the corner of one eye. ‘We wanted to show everyone that it was possible to do advertising in a new way. A better way. Integrity. Passion. Style. Results. Remember all that? Don’t tell me you’ve lost the vision, Jhon. What’s going on?’
‘Bob?’ said Jhon.
‘All I know is I was sick of big shops and this was a chance to get back to doing some real hands-on advertising. Back to basics. I’m sure that’s what we said at the time. Back to basics.’
‘That’s bullshit, Bob, and you know it,’ said Markus. ‘Back to basics? What kind of bullshit is that? What’s got into you two? Don’t you even remember? We wanted to create advertisements that would change the way consumers think, not just about the brands we’re promoting, but about advertising itself. About the media. About the way the world works. About their lives. For example –’
‘Put your fucking violin away, Markus,’ said Jhon. ‘We all know what we’ve achieved. What you’ve achieved. Brilliant stuff. Bloody brilliant. Well done. But let’s keep things in perspective. I’m not sure “Improve your bottom line” ever changed anyone’s view of anything except the price of knickers, but that’s another story.’
Markus drew breath, preparing to launch into the extended version of his well-worn argument for the crucial role of advertising in the development of the modern, liberal, capitalist society; for its power to lift people’s spirits, raise their sights, give them hope and a sense of control over their lives. Advertising as myth-maker. Consumption as ritual. The whole process of mass marketing as metaphor for the evolution of humanity from swamp-dwellers to kings and queens of their own castles. Advertisements as totems.
Jhon cut him off in the nick of time.
‘Markus, Markus. I know what you’re going to say. All good stuff. No question. But this agency was only ever a means to an end – and that end was most assuredly not saving mankind from existential despair.’ (Jhon knew Markus’s lines almost as well as Markus did.) ‘Surely you both remember those conversations in the very beginning. We wanted to create the most profitable business in the industry, as quickly as possible. You got me on board with the promise that I could do whatever it took to turn our little enterprise into a major, major earner for the three of us. A return on investment that would have everyone else’s jaw hitting the floor, and –’
‘No. No!’ said Markus. ‘Of course we wanted to be profitable. We knew we couldn’t survive otherwise. But the primary goal was always creative excellence – setting a new standard for the industry. Raising the bar. Stunning our competitors. Improving people’s lives, Jhon, on both sides of the cash register.’ Markus dabbed his eyes. ‘Your job was to underpin that effort. Isn’t that right, Bob?’
‘I’m astonished,’ said Jhon. ‘Do neither of you recall the basic principle on which this agency was founded. Really? Neither of you?’
‘I’ve told you,’ said Markus, hand on heart. ‘Creativity.’
‘Wrong, Markus. Means to an end. Nothing more. Bob?’
‘I’ve already said: it was to escape big-agency bullshit,’ said Bob. ‘No more hype. Just rolling our sleeves up and producing ads that thrilled our clients. Okay, I grant you, we did talk about setting a new standard for return on investment.’
‘Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.’
‘Go on, then. What’s your version?’
‘It’s not “my version”, as you call it. It’s why we did this thing. Markus talks about our primary goal. I’ll tell you what our primary goal was, and still is. We set up this agency to sell to someone. Pure and simple. And it’s taken us less than ten years to get that point. That’s some kind of record. KK&C only ever existed as a lure. A vehicle to persuade an international agency to part with some very big bucks.’
Markus and Bob both began to protest and then fell silent, each suddenly recalling Jhon’s mention of a deal.
‘Don’t tell me you lost sight of that,’ said Jhon. ‘Don’t tell me you allowed yourselves to get so caught up in the minutiae you lost sight of the big picture.’ Sensing that Markus was about to over-react to ‘minutiae’, he hurried on. ‘With all of Cocky and most of GBH on board, and the serious prospect of landing BudJet now Linc’s involved –’
Bob Kelman cut in: ‘Sorry to interrupt, Jhonno, but we’re saying BudJet, okay?’
‘Whatever. So we need a hugely successful launch of The Ripper and then we can tick all your fucking boxes at once. More industry accolades for you, Markus. All the thrills your client can handle, Bob. And some unbelievably fucking beautiful numbers for me. Adding up to what? A very eager, very welcome suitor at the door, ready to pay top dollar for our little jewel.’
‘And this suitor exists,’ said Bob. ‘Am I right?’
‘Bravissimo,’ said Jhon.
Bob and Markus looked at each other then at Jhon. Both their mouths had fallen open. ‘Bravissimo?’
Bravissimo. A Milan-based agency with a rapidly growing presence throughout Europe and fledgling offices in Mumbai, São Paulo, Chicago and San Francisco. Famous for persuading its non-Italian clients to run Italian commercials with subtitles. Universally admired work for clients in fashion, cars, wine and spirits, and upmarket facewear and wristwear – cosmetics, sunglasses, jewellery, watches – and for its eye-wateringly spectacular launch of a global chain of cosmetic surgery clinics, based on the multi-award-winning proposition: Look the way you feel; feel the way you look. Turbo-charged growth widely attributed to Mafia links, especially via the clinics. The darling of creatives everywhere, picking up the Grand Prix at the Cannes Lions three years running. No slouch on FMCGs, either – Bravissimo was GBH’s lead agency in Europe.
‘I see I have your attention. Perhaps I’ve overstated it. They’re not quite ready to pop the question, but we’ve certainly negotiated the first date without mishap.’
Bob narrowed his eyes. ‘Why weren’t we in on this from the start?’
‘This is the start, Bob, and you’re in on it. I’m the money man, remember? You’ve both always said that. “What a relief to have old Jhon looking after the money side.” I’ve heard no complaints so far. This is the logical next step. I assumed you would both realise I’ve been working towards this from day one.’
Bob began silently calculating his share of a potential sale price. Markus was dabbing his eyes, whether from joy, sorrow, shock or all three was unclear. Perhaps he was imagining how he might turn Europe into a vale of Craven tears.
Jhon went on. ‘Let me tell you about my second date with their intermediary. We’ve agreed that, next month, a couple of Bravissimo people will spend a week in Sydney, sniffing around the agency and getting a sense of what we’re about. They already know our work, of course. That will be the week of The Ripper’s strategy presentation to the Dayton people, and they would like to sit in on that. I told my man that if they wore black T-shirts and scruffy jeans they wouldn’t attract anyone’s attention. They have a global tie-in with GBH firmly in their sights. Which means that once they start serious sniffing, they will expect Linc to be part of any deal they make with us.’
‘Ah,’ said Bob.
‘Ah, indeed,’ said Jhon.
They both looked at Markus.
He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. ‘Nature does seem to be taking its course. I don’t know about addiction, but I saw him actually patting Jezebel yesterday. I’d say that’s significant.’
‘I hope he’s not going soft,’ said Bob. ‘We don’t want him losing his edge.’
11
‘I ASSUME YOU’VE spoken to Jhon Kornfield by now?’
‘Twice, Hunter, in point of fact. As you predicted, he seems very, very keen. I wouldn’t say desperate; not quite that. But I did wonder if they might be in some kind of jam, financially speaking. Overcommitted, in some way? He was, as I say, keen to the point of eagerness. Of course, Bravissimo is a magic word in the industry at present, practically worldwide. It’s like a password.’
‘You haven’t met the other two yet?’
‘No. Kornfield seemed rather taken by the idea of keeping it between us, for the time being. He wore sunglasses to our meeting, even though it was an overcast day. Perhaps he was emulating the Italians. But an element of anonymity suits me very nicely. I’m arranging for a couple of people to come out from Milan next month. Not Ricardo, I think. But a couple of their top people. Senior enough that Ricardo would trust their recommendations, one way or the other. Top people, Hunter. I can assure you of that. They’ll see your GBH presentation, of course, and we’ll possibly set up a meeting with all three partners, but not until you’ve had a private briefing with the Italians. They’ll probably want to bring Ricardo in via telepresence, as well.’
Ricardo Bertone was the only person Harry Smythe ever referred to by his first name. Linc rather liked being called Hunter. He hadn’t been called that since his schooldays (except by The Darby, her ‘my Hunter’ a uniquely spine-tingling refinement).
Linc nodded. Everything seemed to be on track – he felt as if control of the agency was almost within his grasp. He was in a private room above a bistro in a Surry Hills pub, well away from the haunts of his colleagues and clients, and he had himself worn sunglasses to the meetin
g. This was his third face-to-face encounter with Harry, Bravissimo’s unlikely point man in its potential takeover approach to KK&C and to many other agencies in many other parts of the world. Harry was a genteel-looking Englishman, tall, slim and silver-haired, with the small, round, wire-framed spectacles of an academic, a poet, or a merciless torturer. Ex-MI6, he had never worked in advertising in his life and had not the remotest interest in it. He had come to the attention of Ricardo Bertone, the global head of Bravissimo, through a contact in the cosmetic surgery clinics. Ricardo didn’t ask questions. He knew enough about Harry to decide he was perfect for the role of industrial spy and discreet gatherer of corporate intelligence. Ricardo had ambitious plans for the global expansion of Bravissimo, and Harry Smythe was his stalking horse. Harry’s first assignment – getting Bravissimo into Bulgaria – had gone without a hitch, and with surprisingly little money changing hands beyond the sale price.
Ricardo couldn’t have cared less about Australia, really, but GBH used Sydney as its regional base for South-East Asia and Ricardo wanted GBH globally. This Ripper thing sounded absurd, but he knew the GBH people in Dayton were counting on it to open up an entirely new market segment. Ricardo had his doubts. Australians . . . Americans . . . strange people. Primitive, in their different ways, he thought.
Harry had an open brief – find out whether KK&C was worth the price they’d be asking, whether their claimed profit performance stacked up, and whether GBH was wedded to the agency or only to this Hunter person. The CEO of Cocky, himself an Italian who had worked with Bravissimo in Milan, had urged Harry to go straight to Lincoln Hunter before approaching the partners, though he had warned Harry that Hunter was pieno di merda. Harry was in no doubt that, for Bravissimo to secure GBH in Australia, the deal would be all about securing Hunter, at least during the takeover process. Buying KK&C was optional, though everyone could see that would be the cleanest way of acquiring the GBH business. Linc had assured Harry, several times, that he would be perfectly capable of signing GBH, Cocky and now BudJet to a completely new outfit – a Bravissimo start-up, run by Linc himself – and Harry had relayed this to Ricardo. But Ricardo knew nothing was ever that simple, nothing was ever that certain. People moved on. Loyalties shifted. Promises proved hollow. Just like Italian politics. (‘Or politics anywhere, in point of fact,’ Harry had said, when Ricardo expressed that view.) No – the shortest route to securing the GBH business was to acquire the agency, lock, stock and Hunter.