“MAD MEN” meets the Greeting Card Industry
Excerpts:
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Exerpted from Chapter One The Card Shop
There’s an old saying in the greeting card business: steal from one and it’s plagiarism, steal from two and it’s research. Just six weeks into his new career with greeting card giant Heartland Greetings, Jack Concannon was on his first research trip. The trip, as it happened, was back in New York City, where he had worked for many years at one of the largest ad agencies in the country, and after that at one of the smallest, his own shop. Now here he was, a week before Christmas, standing in a cluttered little alternative card shop on Columbus Avenue, the air filled with the sounds of the Bee Gees and the spicy-sweet smell of incense. Jack was not quite sure what he should be looking for, not quite sure why he was even there. He took a peek at the exotic creature standing a few feet away down the narrow aisle. She looked up and caught him watching her and a mischievous grin spread across her face. She handed a greeting card to him, “Here’s one you won’t find in the employee card shop.” Jack took the card from her. She waited for his reaction. On the front of the card was a stylized airbrush painting of a woman’s face and the words: “Let’s go someplace where we can sit down and get to know each other.” Jack opened the card: Your face or mine? He grinned foolishly, not sure what the appropriate reaction should be in this situation. She laughed, “Just once I’d like to bring a card like that into Committee.” Jack still couldn’t think of a damn thing to say and he was relieved when, with a flash of black eyes, Squeek Carerro turned away to resume her browsing. He studied her out of the corner of his eye. She had “artist” written all over her; her clothes looked as if she had grabbed them blindfolded from a thrift shop, colors and patterns that should not have worked together but somehow did. And her shoulder-length jet-black hair was as undisciplined and wonderful as her clothes. He had been fascinated and more than a little intimidated by Squeek from the moment he’d been introduced to her at Heartland. Still, she’d felt a little bit familiar, reminding him of many women he’d known in the advertising business—brash, sarcastic, un-awed by men. Eastern erotic. Not at all like the sweet, pretty, Midwestern girls that populated the seventh and eighth floors at Heartland Greetings. From across the card shop a musical voice called out, “Hey Squeeker, y’all ‘bout ready?” Tommy Tomble stood over by the checkout counter, his blond perm backlit into a glowing halo around an impish face. Squeek flashed him a grin and a nod, and she and Jack made their way through the narrow aisles towards the register. Behind the counter stood a slim energetic woman with streaked gray hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. She handed Tommy his change as Squeek and Jack walked up. Tommy flashed them his sunny Memphis smile, “I’ll be out on the sidewalk.” Squeek plopped her large tapestry purse up on the counter and began digging through it looking for her wallet. The woman picked up the small stack of greeting cards from the counter and began ringing them up. Muttering under her breath Squeek started pulling handfuls of items out of the purse and plunking them down onto the counter. Out came lipsticks and notepads and necklaces and scarves and among them, her plastic-encased Heartland Greetings ID badge. The woman twisted her head sideways to read the badge. She straightened up, clutching the greeting cards protectively against her chest, “You’re all from Heartland Greetings.” Squeek looked up, her face expressionless, “Yes,” and opened up a small turquoise wallet. The woman’s eyes darted toward Jack. Jack smiled at her. “Get out of here.” The woman spoke directly to Jack, in a cold, flat voice. “Just take it easy, honey,” Squeek said to the woman and began restuffing her purse. Jack was grinning expectantly, not getting the joke. The woman turned back to Squeek, and jabbed her finger toward the door. Jack’s smile faded, “What’s wrong?” She turned back to face him. “What’s wrong? You’re a bunch of spies, that’s what’s wrong.” She pointed to the door again, “Now get out!” “Don’t be silly,” Jack said, “We’re not…” “Jack,” Squeek interrupted, a sour look on her face, “forget it, let’s go.” The woman had turned bright red. Jack said, “What the hell is going on?” “You know damn well what’s going on,” she shouted at him, “you people, coming in here to steal ideas from me, put me out of business.” “That’s crazy,” Jack said. Squeek closed her purse and snapped at the woman, “Don’t bust a gut, honey, we’re leaving.” She looked up at Jack, “Come on.” “Get out of my shop,” the woman was practically screaming, “and don’t you come in here again.” She started to come around from behind the counter. Jack felt Squeek yanking on his arm. They ducked out onto the sidewalk where Tommy waited. The woman appeared in the doorway behind them, fumbling with the doorstop, “Stay away from my shop!” she shouted, then spun around and let the door swing shut. Tommy grinned at Jack, “Welcome to the Social Expression Industry.” |
