My Magazine Ch. 14

"But if an advertiser engages an under-performing advertising agency that works up a campaign as instructed but at the eleventh hour the decision-maker comes to the conclusion that what he or she is reviewing is simply a heap of garbage, they are on a cliff-edge. They are aware that time is running out, they have committed to spending thousands - perhaps tens of thousands of pounds to that point and what do they see - an advertising campaign that simply is not going to jump the bar.

"Similarly with PR the client gets assurances that the company has all the contacts, knows how to get the job done - but no promises of course. The job is tossed to little Freddie, a shy lad who has some talent to get the job moving. But his contacts in the targeted area are zilch and the boss is not much help because he's down at the boatshed most days watching the finishing touches being lavished on his new sixty-foot cruiser.

Outcomes like this are appalling, and the image of your profession suffers as a result.

"None of you will challenge what I just said because you know it's true because you are in a sleight of hand businesses where missed cues and buggered-up campaigns are as common as spoiling summer rain in Britain."

"Let my talk to you about my own magazine, new to the market but so what? Can't a newcomer have the potential to dazzle the public? I was not so presumptuous to think that I had the magic wand in my mitt to achieve such a thing. But I tell you what; I would go to work my guts out and drag on what talent and experience I knew I had to produce something at least a little out of the ordinary.

But what happened?

The reaction of advertising agencies viewing the mock-up was typically a stall, just encouraging words such as "That's fine - good for you Jenni. Hope you achieve success. The market needs a newcomer like you to kick butt. You'll be a breath of fresh air Jenni."

"Those ego-massaging supportive comments feel like rain at Lords on the opening day of a cricket test. But hey - where was the support from advertisers and their agents? What PR firm reading about the start-up magazine bothered to find out about it and then decide whether or not to draw the attention of selected clients to it?

"Where were those keen-minded men and woman professionals? Too busily occupied at the toilet, at golf or supervising output of mediocracy I presume."

"No, don't laugh please. Jest will spoil my punch line which is this: the number of public relation firms that contacted my company looking for pre-launch information about this new magazine and offering their expertise of service was exactly zero. Congratulations guys and don't you ever go after new business opportunities for your clients?"

"The number of advertising agencies that contacted my company looking for pre-launch information before we got our own pre-launch kits couriered to them totalled exactly two. Well done both of those agencies - you'll know who you are, just as those other agencies who failed to get off their arse and do some prospecting work on behalf of moneyed clients will know who they are."

"At least my story had a happy ending. Our first issue carried advertisements received from eleven advertising agencies. Brilliant. The hooter sounded late, but at least it drew a response, mostly generated of course by our own advertising sales effort and my advertising consultant, a dear friend."

"Both advertising and PR have many brilliant individuals working within companies. But something's missing in the way such companies are being managed, don't you think? Both professions are major players in the business of communication - but there is their interest and communication with new start enterprises. Some newcomers will be breath-through enterprises.

"Well that's enough from me. Your chairman may allow questions or perhaps he'll decide to throw me out for being so testy and insolent. Fair enough."

Before the questions flowed, Jenni received a standing ovation and the chairman stepped forward to where she stood at the rostrum and embraced her.

Many of the questions were about Jenni personally as well as her My Magazine.

Finally the chairman called for one final question and while several in the audience put their hands up wanting to be selected, Snowy simply shouted, "Is it true that advertising for your latest edition closes this Friday?"

"Snowy," thundered the chairman, "Your question is out of order. You are involved with Miss Giles."

"Only in a business sense Mr Chairman, I assure you," Jenni said laughing.

That produced a storm of clapping, feet stomping and whistling.

The embarrassed chairman smiled at Jenni and thanked her "for slapping us on the wrist" and asked the gathering to thank the most provocative speaker in the history of the bi-annual joint meetings of the two professional organisations.

Jenni went with Snowy and Gracie across the street to a bar, where there was only one near empty booth. The couple moved over for them and Jenni sat next to the man's partner. They were introduced by Snowy as Mel and Abby Major.

"Mal is MD of Abby's Mail Order Fashions," Snowy said. "The company is named after his dearly beloved. Your two will know our guest speaker from the introduction earlier this evening and this is my partner for this evening, Gracie, who's a model for a maternity-wear mail order firm."

"Stop teasing us Vincent," Abby said. "We flew with you and your wife Gracie last year to the conference in Cork."

"Oh damn, caught out again," Snowy laughed. "You don't have to call me Vincent you know - everyone calls me by that other name."

But Abby was not listening. She was whispering to her husband. He nodded.

Turning to Jenni, Abby said, "I really like your magazine but was upset to hear you say tonight that it has been sold to Zephyr. Your personality signature was all over that first issue."

The waiter arrived with green tea for Gracie, a lemon squash for Snowy and vodka on the rocks for Jenni.

"Yes I hand it over at the end of the month Abby but as director of magazine publishing at Zephyr I'll be keeping a firm grip on the tiller until the new editor of the magazine settles in."

"So you don't think it will slide down-hill?"

"No quite the reverse. The entire editorial team is remaining with the magazine and the publication is on an upward swing and we'll have the full recourses of Zephyr to tap. The overall content of this second issue is better than the first one and we begin on Monday to push for an even better issue under the new ownership."

"But it's easier to say such a thing like that, but very much harder to deliver, isn't it? Mal challenged.

"Believe what you wish Mal but I'm not in the habit of puffing into the wind."

"Steady on Jenni," Snowy said. "It was only a remark."

"Sorry - but that's how I keep my mind in gear. No offence intended Mal."

"Abby suggested to me a few minutes ago that we should run the higher-priced clothing section of our winter catalogue in your current issue. It's in the same over-size format of your magazine and I believe meets your magazine's specs to go straight to plate-making - isn't that so Snowy?"

"Yes specs for your catalogue fully meet My Magazine's requirements."

"Well Jenni," Abby said. "It's a bit of a punt for us. We are trying this higher-priced winter section for the first time and the response has been quite remarkable but we can source a lot more stock if we require it. Of course, this thinking is subject to some negotiation on advertising rates."

"Exactly what level of quality clothing and accessories are you talking about?"

"Main street boutique level Jenni. We've already received several complaints from boutiques that we are under-cutting them unfairly."

Jennie: How many pages?

Abby: Sixteen. How many copies will be distributed?

Jennie: Ninety thousand.

Abby: You think you will sell ninety thou at a cover price of eight pounds?

Jenni: Yes, Abby. We've had considerable exposure in the media since the first print and with promotions continuing in the background I believe we shall stimulate readership interest.

Jenni held her nerve. This would be a biggie for a new magazine. Large placements like that normally went only to the top and well established magazines. She downed two swallows of her drink, feeling the bite in her throat and imagining steam coming out of her ears.

She was conscious that Abby had turned and was watching her intently.

"We'll invoice you direct, no middle people involved but we will charge-out production costs plus a profit margin," offered Jenni.

Abby nodded and Mal said they could courier the film to Jenni's printer in the morning.

"Our rate card discount stops at eight-pages, said Jenni. "So twice that 8-page rate less 20% is my offer."

"Thirty percent discount."

"Done Abby as your contribution will lift readership interest."

Abby excused herself went outside and made a phone call and Mal turned to a waitress to order another round of drinks.

"I'm sorry to see you with your tongue hanging out for a commission, Snowy," Jenni murmured. "But you have not been involved beyond the introduction which Abby was being proactive about and would have contacted me anyway. Is this being fair?"

He nodded and smiled.

"Well done Jenni; you negotiated that deal like a pro."

"By that you mean a professional business woman don't your dear?" Gracie commented.

"Of course dear. I value my teeth too much to imply anything else."

An hour later Jenni drove home elated, feeling like a jockey must experience heading down the straight to the finish post knowing that she was out in front.

Flashing red lights indicated a police breath-testing unit was at work.

"Damn," said Jenni out aloud. She was uneasy, though not worried. She'd only had one glass of wine at dinner, restricting herself so that she didn't trip up on words during her speech, and two vodka drinks and all well-spaced apart. She was confident she would pass the check okay.

As it happened, all the officers doing the breath checks already each a driver under test and another lined up waiting and she was waved through. She drove on sedately, noticing a police vehicle just along the road on a side street, doubtless with radar checking the speed of vehicles accelerating from the police trap.

"Clever boys," she remarked, thinking that some poor souls would pass the breath test and accelerate off very happy, only to hear a siren and see flashing lights right behind them just after passing the speed trap.

"Just drive like a good girl, Jenni," she said aloud, watching a car coming at speed towards her and a lout hanging out of the back seat window behind the driver yahooing. She thought that was the type of driving that the police should focus on, not sedate driving genteel old women like herself. With satisfaction she saw the police car accelerate from the side street, lights flashing, heading after the speedster.

Rhonda was watching one of her favourite TV programmes, the thuggery of wrestling. Jenni just couldn't stand it despite Rhonda's assurances that it was 90% showmanship.

"How did it go?"

"It was a brilliant evening - I was allowed to pass through a police breath-test cordon and then just as I was about to speed home I past a police radar trap and I was doing only a tad over the speed restriction."

"I don't mean about your drive home; I mean how your speech went."

"Oh that. Well early on they indicated my speech was boring and I tossed my prepared piece away and gave them both barrels."

"Oh the poor sods," Rhonda giggled.

Jenni grimaced as the unruly red and green locks of a fat-faced man were rammed into the padded corner post of the ring. She patted Rhonda on the shoulder and went to bed to read something a little more relaxing. Her current book was Susan Bridger's '200 years of Scandals in the White House'.

Next morning Rhonda had gone out to call Nico in for morning tea, getting buffeted by the wind. He was cleaning the exterior of Jenni's car.

"Morning tea Nico. Will you be doing my car when you return?"

"Nico only does the boss's car Rhonda. It always pays to keep in well with the boss."

A courier van drove up, the driver jumped out and handed Rhonda ten copies of Business People.

"Hold on, there's something more," said the young woman, opening the back doors of her van.

Rhonda marched through to Jenni's office holding a dozen white roses aloft for everyone to see, stimulating whistles and cat-calls, which drew Jenni to the entrance of her cubicle. She saw the flowers and smiled. From the chairman of last night's meeting, she thought, apologising for the unruly behaviour of some members.

Wrong.

"From Rhys," said Rhoda, pointing to the card.

That startled Jenni. Why would he be sending her flowers - had there been a cock-up with her article?

"Who's Rhys?" asked Brenda, sensing something was in the air.

"Rhys Cain of Business People magazine," Rhoda said.

"What? Jenni is cradle-snatching," called Mae. "He's only forty."

"How do you know him?" asked Brenda, miffed.

"He goes to my gym. He used to be on the international circuit."

"What in - seduction?"

"No Brenda, you naughty girl," chastised Mae. "His mother in American from California and his chosen sport was beach volley ball which highly develops athleticism."

"Jenni you naughty girl," Brenda teased.

"I haven't done anything you idiot," Jennie smiled. "I've only met the guy once."

"Well he's got further meetings in mind," Timothy leered. "He'd spent a packet on white roses at this time of year."

Jenni said the flowers were an apology, that something must have gone wrong with his story about her. Perhaps it had to be pulled out at the last minute."

"Oh look here's the photo of Jenni that I sent him," Rhonda cried. "Look they've cropped it to a head shot and enlarged it."

Jenni opened her copy of the tabloid to look at the page five graphic. It was from the reject pile - it should have been filed in the waste paper bin. It was a profile of her taken on the street wind blowing her hair about and her sunglasses perched above her forehead. She had rejected that photograph, deciding it was 'patently posed'.

Rhonda had argued she should keep it because the pose was 'classically Jenni' and the photographer had caught the steely glint in her eye that sometimes appeared. Jenni had told her the nasty photographer had just patted her on the butt, hence her simmering anger.

Obviously Rhonda had sneaked the photo into her file of images of Jenni. Digital images were also saved electronically on her computer and backed up.

"It's a super shot of you," Vivian said. "I should get that photographer to do my portfolio of stock pix."

"Only if you want your butt massaged," Jenni snapped.

.

Vivian claimed all professional photographers were like that and everyone laughed.

"It's morning tea time," Jenni reminded them. She returned to her desk and began reading the article.

A few minutes later Rhonda returned with a bun and a cup of black coffee.

"What's the article like?" she asked, placing the bun in front of Jenni.

"It's okay."

Vivian came dashing in.

"What a lovely writer he is - he's captured you perfectly," she enthused. "I've read a few pieces about you but never knew you decided to become a writer as a very young child because you wanted to understand the complications of Alice in Wonderland.

"Well nobody else pushed the question as he did when I said that I became interested in writing as a child."

"He seems to think you have an extra-ordinary talent in speaking to people and this reflects in your writing. He reckons this was the easiest interview he's ever conducted and says amazingly the article almost wrote itself. Obviously he's very impressed."

Brenda came in waving the tabloid publication printed on book paper.

"This guy is smitten with you," she declared.

Jenni called Brenda a hopeless romantic.

"Let me read it," said Timothy, snatching the newspaper from Brenda's hand. "My judgement will be conclusive because I'm the most cynical person in the office."

"Come on, back to work you guys," Vivian called. "We've almost have this edition licked. We're confirmed on one hundred and ninety-two pages plus cover and have only four eight-page sections left to complete and to send off to Zephyr. Great work guys."

Jennie thought she sounds just like her when she first became an editor of a magazine. Vivian needed to toughen up a bit and that would come.

She sighed happily, "I think she's got it."

Timothy walked into Jenni's office and tossed the copy of Business People into her in basket.

"Well?"

"It's an excellent article. But there's an undercurrent from which only one conclusion can be drawn; Jenni; the guy is soft on you."

"But I've done nothing, given him no encouragement at all. And anyway the guy is younger than me."

"Don't fight it Jenni. He might be just the ticket for you."

"Just the ticket?" said Nico, coming into the office. "So something is going all right for Jenni? That's good. Your car keys, please. I've decided to upgrade you from just a wash to a wash and vacuum."

"That's the ticket, Nico," said Jenni, tossing him the keys. "Oh dear, I always thought men were so uncomplicated until now."

"Is there a problem?"

"Nah Nico, Nothing that Jenni can't handle although she won't be able to handle the situation until she accepts it's happening," Timothy said.

"You guys in editorial, you're always speaking ab ... ab..."

"Abstractly."

"Thank you Jenni. You guys in editorial - you are always speaking so abstractly that it's difficult to understand what you are on about. I hope you can deal with whatever is the problem Jenni."

"Oh I will Nico. If the problem persists it will just have to take its course."

"Now that I can understand," Nico grinned. "Timothy why don't you learn to speak simply like Jenni here and then people might like you more and you'll get a girlfriend who loves you. Mind you, that Brenda has got her eye on you, she ..."

"Thank you Nico. We really must get back to work.

"See Timothy. She says it so simply. Get back to work!"

Rhonda popped her head over the divider and said to Jenni, "Lover boy has called."

Jenni looked at her suspiciously. "I haven't heard your phone go during the last few minutes."

"Check your emails."

The message read, "Bring coffee. Same bench. Today noon. R."

Jenni called out to Rhonda, "What time is that appointment I have with David Brooks?"

"Twelve fifteen - but I've already had it changed to 1:30."

"Rhonda, that meeting is important. You shouldn't have done that."

"Sorry Jenni. I just tried to think what you would have done had I were in your situation."

"Damn it Rhonda you can be so irritating at times. It must be a pain being so correct almost all the time."

"Where's this fabled seat Jenni? I thought I might stroll past and get a good look at him."

"You're impossible Rhonda Flagstaff. Would you kindly work through till 12:30 before going out to lunch. I'm expecting an important email from ... from ... from Berlin."

"Very well Jenni your spoil sport. I'll keep out of it for now."

Jenni wondered why David had wanted a meeting with her. It scarcely seemed necessary to drag her out there just to complain about her refusing to pay the extra cost of paper for her magazine. Oh well she would find out in due course.

More Coming