Chapter 9: Pen Pal

So, a major day at BB for yrs. truly. On Thursday, I’m to meet Meg Gibraltar for the first time. First time I’ve met any of our clients. The occasion? Louise Lane would be unveiling two new Harvey radio spots — 15 and 30 seconds.

Ms. Sloane explained, “They’re spinoffs of our social media spots — geared for an older demographic.”

“Of course.”

During our pre-meeting prep, Auntie Pru had suggested, “Listen and learn, Birdie.”

I nodded.

She leaned in and whispered, “And keep your fucking mouth shut.”

Auntie Pru had learned that addressing me in direct terms was often more profitable. I nodded again.

Wednesday night, eve of G-Day, Louise Lane called Pru at home. “I see, Louise. No, don’t be silly, don’t even think about it.”

She looked at Peggy, “Flu.”

My mother said, “Ms. Sloane.”

Auntie Pru nodded, “Of course,” and looked at me, “Fucking mouth closed.”

Gibraltar Soup, which no longer makes much soup, or maybe they do, it’s just not as important as when Grandpa Gibraltar first started selling blue and white cans of tomato soup out of his station wagon to grocery stores. Now it’s trucks and mattresses, and who knows what all?

Well, Ms. Sloane would, she’s one of those people who knows things. You know the type.

The meeting, in their downtown office building, called, logically enough, The Gibraltar Building, started right on time. The conference room on the 13th floor at 13th and Baltimore. I started to share some insider intel — there are 13 knots in a hangman’s noose, but remembered Auntie Pru’s advice just in time.

Meg Gibraltar was about 60 and still seemed to have all of her facilities. Rather sharp in fact. I settled in, curious what this day’s harvest would be. Miss Gibraltar seemed friendly and smiled at me, the newcomer, a lot.

Pretty smooth meeting. If this is all there is to it, I’ll be a Senior Account Exec in two shakes of a lamb’s tale.

Oh, there were some of the usual tedious business questions — demographic targets, market penetration, schedules, media discounts, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Ms. Sloan probably crammed for the test — she not only knew the answers, but had sheets of ... arithmetic to hand over to La Gibraltar. Stuff I could have easily mastered.

On the walk back to the BB office, Ms. Sloan took my arm and said, “Well done, Birdie.”

The McGovern Campaign was gearing up.

On the agenda, a cocktail meet re: Ms. Sloane and Trish. And me. It went on and on and then turned into dinner. Chaz is in the Rafael Hotel; had the conver. gone on much longer, we’d have needed a room.