"You didn't actually leave early?" the words came from a scandalised Alex, whose grin belied her words, "A Marketing Vice-President, and you left before six in the evening! What has happened to all the dedication that you used to show?" The smiles on the faces of the two other saleswomen were proof that this was an unusual event.
"Got a little urge to play hookey, and I thought I might buy you a cup of coffee!" returned Joseph Kozcinski , knowing that he had left himself wide open for more of the same, "two coffees if you play your cards right!"
"You must think I come cheap. I just don't know about you Polish guys, two coffees and you reckon that I'll fall into your arms!"
"Well, it worked before!", he grinned, as his wife grabbed her purse, called to her girls to lock up when ready, and waltzed around towards her husband, ready for a welcome early break with her Joseph. The couple slowly walked along, content with each others' company, pointing in the occasional window and commenting on the displays. Suddenly Joe stopped in front of a gown shop, and simply asked, as he pointed to a beautiful, silken shawl, "You like?"
"Why yes, Joseph; I like very much!" replied his wife, and in they went, Joe simply saying, "We would like the shawl in the window, please. Wrap it up!"
Once outside, parcel under arm, Joe smiled and said, "Two coffees and a shawl, now I know that Polish girls don't come cheap!" The couple wandered along the mall, stopping now and again to comment or look at the displays. Joe stopped in front of an electronics hobby store, his eye caught by an unusual offering in the window. Telling Alex he would not be long, Joe entered, fished out his wallet and, after a short conversation with the clerk, returned with a flat parcel in his coat pocket. In answer to his wife's raised eyebrows, he just shrugged, and muttered "You can't be too careful!"
------------- '---------------
A dime dropped into a pay phone, which was sited at the Mall entrance, a number punched in, and when the call was answered, the caller simply stated, "It's just young love. He came straight to the Mall, waltzed along with his wife, and bought her some wrap as a present. No other reasons for leaving early. No problems. See ya!"
Chapter 4
Allison Klein lit a cigarette, in defiance of all the scandalised looks around her in the hotel restaurant, and glared around her team, as they hurriedly finished their breakfasts. "Have we got all the goodies? Herman, all the tapes stowed?" She was answered by a nervous nod, Allison being known for her vicious tongue, especially when a major client was coming down to the wire. "Serena, wipe your face, you have jam all over your lips. Have you got all the storyboards set in the sequence we talked about last night?" The young, dark-haired assistant, so addressed, nodded just a little too much. "What does that mean, Serena? Are you nodding to the fact that you have jam all over your face, or have you set up the boards properly? Please answer!"
Serena, miserable to be the centre of attention, simply replied, as she wiped her lips, "I sorted all the boards last night, and checked them again first thing this morning, Allison; honestly."
Having achieved domination over her team, which was her sole purpose in acting like the mother shark in 'Jaws 2' , the media director, Continental Account, for Morson, Hutcheons, Drew and Zeno, drew contentedly on her smoke, eyed the last member of her team, John Tynan, and snapped, "All statistics, demographics and conclusions ready for exhibit, John?"
The statistical and population expert gazed back at Allison, grinning widely, as he knew that this action set her boiling quickest. "No worries, Big Al," using the name she hated, "We got enough stats to blind the guys with science, never mind truth. What=s the big deal with this trip, anyhow? The boards were approved, the shorts and clips were refined a dozen times, and now you act like you have just given birth to a dinosaur in the middle of the night!"
Allison gazed levelly at the Australian, blowing smoke straight into his eyes, an action she knew he hated, before smiling grimly, and replying, "I had a quick word with a contact within the Client, late yesterday evening, a source you might call it. What we are being hauled in for, is to demonstrate our competence in our choice of billboard, television and showroom advertising, for all the new models within the Stiletto and Sabre ranges. My source didn't know for certain, but the take-off in sales, forecast by our company, just has not materialised, and they may well be looking for scapegoat material."
"Jeezus, Allison," this from Herman, the conceptual artist, "Are we gonna lose Continental?" The query was reflected in the eyes of each member of the team, as they realized the consequences of the loss of such a major billing, with the fatal fall-out which would undoubtedly result.
"The reason why we departed Kennedy, at such speed last night, when we should really be doing final wrap talks with Boeing on the 777 launch, is because we have no intention of losing Continental; so get this straight! We are going to be positive, we have conducted a professional campaign, there are no, repeat, no loose ends, and we are able to demonstrate exactly that!" Allison rasped. "You are all paid pretty well, even by Madison Avenue standards, and you will help me convince our client that there would be absolutely no reason to junk Morson, Zeno as their ad agency of choice, and go with someone else; O.K.?" The identical nods from around the table, gave the media woman the answer she was wanting, as did the determined looks on the faces of all three of her team. "Right, finish up here, we don't book out; keep the rooms for tonight at least, we might have to stop over. I don't know if we can avoid it," seeing Serena's face fall, "we might not be able to wrap this up in one session. There is one hell of a lot to go through, and if they want to dredge deep, and with all our answers having to go to a single person, our session might stretch over into tomorrow, so we gotta be prepared! Herman, have we got a Hertz car on tap?"
The artist answered, "No problems, Allison, it is already in the lot in front of the hotel. I got the keys, cards and things from the desk before we came into breakfast."
"Okay, team, because this is what we are, a team, going into bat for our company! There may be someone in Continental who is looking for an easy way out, point the finger at Morson, Zeno; then leave us to be kicked off down the freeway, but we will not let this happen, will we? One final thing; if you even think you have discovered a chink in our armour, under no circumstances will you disclose this to any Continental staff member. If we have a problem, keep your goddam mouths shut, tip me a wink, and we can talk it over later!" The small group left the table together, welded into what Allison hoped would be a combination which would emerge as victors, from the gladiatorial combat which was about to ensue.
The big rental Ford, Herman at the wheel, slid into the Continental visitors' car park, and the four Morson, Zeno troopers emerged, passing out the weaponry of their profession between the four; from a case of video tapes, to four folders of marked-up story boards: from the case of computer discs, carefully guarded by John Tynan, to the big roll of glossy full-colour flyers, which had been worked upon by some of the worlds' most talented graphic artists. The four laden figures walked up the approach ramp, through the main doors, and announced their arrival at reception. Margi Goering, whose unfortunate namesake had given her a lot of grief, keyed the appropriate numbers, heard Harry Lassitter's voice reply, and simply said, "They're here Harry!"
"Hold them there," was the answer, "I'll be right down to pick them up. Thanks Margi. Bye!" Harry rekeyed his own intercom, heard Mrs. Grady's measured tones reply, and asked, "Is Joe ready in five minutes, Mrs. G.? The squad from the agency has just piled in, so I am getting them settled into the small theatre. I have coffee and everything laid on, so we will be ready and waiting."
"I'll be sure and tell Mr. Kozcinski that everything is ready for him, Mr. Lassitter. Thanks for the call." replied Joe's secretary, rising as she finished speaking, to advise her boss that his visitors were being installed and welcomed.
Joe nodded, returned to his task of scanning the latest sales returns from the nationwide franchise dealers, shuddered at the story they were telling, closed
the files and asked his secretary to secure them, before shrugging his jacket over his shoulders, smiling a farewell at the junior office girls, and started heading off down the long passage towards the waiting advertising team from New York. He paused, deep in thought, returned to his office, reached into a desk drawer, and retrieved a small, flat, black-cased box; hefted it in his hand, then thoughtfully put it into his pocket, before once more walking towards the demonstration theatre area.
Joe reached the theatre just as the advertising team were setting out their wares. He was introduced to all the members, having only met Allison once, at the final run-down before the actual launch. The amenities over, he listened as Allison, after prompting from Harry Lassitter, started to lay out the review which she proposed to undertake, and the various areas that the track would pass through. Joe casually rose, asked Allison to continue while he stretched his legs by walking around the theatre, and proceeded to do just that, wandering aimlessly around the seats, back towards the projection kiosk, and in between the rows of seating. Unseen to the visitors, or indeed to the advertising co-ordinator, he slipped out the small black case, and, flipping a switch on it's side, kept glancing at a little read-out panel as he walked. Treading through the aisles between the rows, he kept checking the panel, and finally was rewarded by a change in the figures as he passed the corner of the raised area which held the lectern, and from which the demonstrations were controlled. He circled the lectern area twice, while all the Morson team members were fully engrossed in the strategy of their director; checking all the time, with quick glances at the small case in his hand, that the read-outs were real, and there could be no mistake. Making his mind up, he leant down, flipped open the small power distribution box which sat at the side of the stand, and pulled out the main fuse from the slide. Replacing the cover, he stepped down to the group at the front of the theatre, and, raising his hand, broke into Allison's pitch; "Before we begin the general overview of your company's approach, can we review the slides which formed the basis for the billboard and showroom posters; there are a couple of items I wish to check."
Allison, who hated to be interrupted, simply nodded at Herman, who stepped back towards the lectern, which held the slide projector previously set up for the visit; and started to load the magazine into the projector. He then switched on the power switch, but of course nothing happened. Herman flicked the toggle a few times, then called out, "Harry, your little machine doesn't work! Can you get it to wind up?"
Before Harry could reply, Joe stood up, simply said, "We'll move next door, the second theatre is unoccupied, and we can't wait for maintenance to come crawling out of the woodwork. Sorry for the inconvenience, Miss Klein, but if we move next door, we can get on with the business faster than if we wait. O.K.?" The party picked up the stack of items which had been laid around, and shuffled around into the next room, which was identical to the first, Joe double-locking the door as he left. As he waited for the Morson team to ready themselves, and with a few mystified looks from Harry Lassitter, Joseph Kozcinski once more went striding around the theatre, but came to a halt after the second tour he had completed around the small auditorium. "Miss Klein, please accept my apologies, if you could revert to the original track you had planned, we will get to see the slides when you are ready to show them!"
Allison Klein paused, completely wrong-footed by the conciliatory tone from her client, shrugged and went straight into her rain-dance on how the agency had approached the task of persuading a great many people to part with a huge amount of money for the purpose of buying transportation. Joe sat, slouched in one of the armchairs, intent as the story-boards were displayed one by one, and then compared to the individual televised adverts which were the end product of their input. They paused for coffee, while John Tynan set up the display which projected the screen of a computer on to the big screen of the theatre, and then led the company through the demographic statistics which had been the basis of their targeted series of thirty-second pre- and post-launch video clips, and the strategy behind the carefully crafted voice-overs which had accompanied the brightly polished series of advertisements. The occasional interventions from either Harry, or Joe, which were answered rapidly by one or other of the four, showed how much emphasis had been placed on the visit by the media director. Joe looked at his watch, murmured "Lunch break, I think. I realise that you have some very confidential files, and information wrapped up in your equipment, so I shall have the door locked, and a security guard posted outside; so we can all relax for maybe forty-five minutes, before returning to the fray." So saying, the Marketing V.P. picked up the intercom phone, requested a guard on the door; then led the way out of the theatre, locked and pocketed the key, and waited the minute until a uniformed security man appeared from the lift. "No one in until we return," he instructed the guard, then led the way forward, talking with Allison, as they made their way towards the executive dining rooms.
The dining rooms, once another bone of contention between Joseph and his father-in-law, were comparable to the Club in their approach to their customers digestive systems. Old man Tadeusz had often howled abuse at the system whereby a few privileged people had access to some of the best individual service and food in the whole of Detroit, while the canteens which served the vast assembly plants of Continental could only be described, rather kindly, as a superior greasy spoon operation. The service was slick, and aimed at executives who could not spare a great deal of time in ordering and waiting for their meal. There was a set menu, with little choice, but what was speedily served up to the lucky few was of the best. The four from Madison, used as they were to fine food in good surroundings, were silent as their choices were served within two minutes, complete with a glass of the appropriate wine. Joe sat back and inwardly smiled as his guests demolished the contents of their plates, not having expected anything near their standards outside New York. The group talked shop all the way through the meal, but only generally, with Joe interested mainly in the agency's approach to the marketing of the big new jet from Boeing. John Tynan, who had been nursing the project from inception, said, "Well, seeing as you are totally away from the aviation market, I guess there would be no loss in telling you that what we are playing on is the testing of the Triple seven, rather than anything else. What we have determined is that people look on airlines as much the same these days, and the only thing they are really interested in is, quite simply, is it safe? Can it be maintained easily; what do the pilots and ground crew think of it? That sort of thing. Now, if subliminal input did actually work, and of course was legal,..."
"Hold on, John, " asked Joe, "Subliminal, what the hell is that when it hits the track?"
"It's a term used in psychology. What it boils out to is there is a message within a message. It was assumed in old time psychology that, given the speed of old time films, at thirty-two frames per second, if you changed one of the film frames for another, with a message, you would be able to sneak it, the second message that is, past the conscious mind, and into the subconscious mind. The trouble is that, if you see a message, you register it on your conscious mind, and decipher what is being sent through. Human beings, being the way we are, all have different levels of conscious threshold levels, and the psych people found out that if the message was flashed much faster, then it didn't register at all, and at thirty-two frames, there was a significant section of people who actually saw the message in the first place. Actually, it is the ad-mans dream, because what would be happening is a form of brain washing, but targeted at selling a single item. It couldn't be used these days, mainly because we use video for just about everything. The advertising oversight people, worldwide, decided to ban any form of suggestive advertising, mainly because it doesn't work, but because it would give us all such a lousy name if anyone ever succeeded in passing one message off inside another."
The lunch over, the six walked back into the corridor, and approached the security guard, who made way for them as the group approached. He leant over,
and spoke quietly to Joe as the marketing man stood back, to let his companions through the door. "Mr. Kozcinski , there was a maintenance man here during the time you were having lunch, seemed a bit cheesed that I wouldn't let him into the theatre, but even more chewed that he couldn't get into Theatre number one. Seems he had a call that something was wrong with the power plugs, and because you had double locked the door, he was gonna have to come back!"
Joe nodded, smiling as he assured the guard that everything was under control, before turning into the demonstration theatre for the second half of the agency demonstration. His smile was, however, rather tenuous, as he had been certain that he had called no-one to complain about the power loss in the first theatre, the head office maintenance department was famous for not responding speedily to calls for help, and there was still the evidence from his little black telltale box, to be considered in the cold light of day. When he sat back and waved the reprise presentation forward, he was able to concentrate with about ninety percent of his conscious mind, leaving ten percent to struggle with the new problems he had uncovered.
Herman Dahler, the artist who now stood before the two Continental men, was explaining the approach which had been taken to the differences in advertising strategies for the Sabre, as opposed to the Stiletto. Joe suddenly interrupted, as Herman was discoursing about the polls which had contributed to the plans for the two ranges of automobiles; "Herman, has anyone at Morson, Zeno taken a poll on attitudes to the two ranges since the wrap-up of the launch?
Continental Attack: Murder and Mayhem in Detroit's Auto Industry Page 4