"Shanna Swendson - Enchanted, Inc" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swendson Shanna)

wasn't even present at this meeting other than as a note taker.

Fortunately, Mimi didn't look displeased at my breach of protocol. "Yes, Katie?"
she said. I suspected she was enjoying Janice looking bad more than she was mad at
me.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to be conscious of my accent. One hint of
drawl and my idea would be shot down like a clay pigeon. "I've found that if you try
to do something too fancy-looking without the budget that goes with it, you just end
up looking cheap. Let's face it, serving low-budget shrimp puffs is just asking for
food poisoning. What if we do something that's supposed to look cheap? Instead of
doing a ritzy cocktail party, have a picnic or cookout. Grill hot dogs and serve beer
and have
a few nostalgic picnic-type activities, like sack races or bobbing for apples. Adults
get a real kick out of an excuse to act like kids, and you can give a lot of people a
good time they'll remember without spending much money." We'd done customer
appreciation days like that at the store, but I knew better than to mention the store. It
might be real-world experience, but it would detract from my credibility.

They all stared at me in silence when I was through. Finally, Mimi said in her most
acid tone, "That may work down in Grover's Comers, or wherever it is you're from,
but we have different standards in New York." I knew now wasn't the time to point
out that the play she'd referred to took place in New Hampshire, not Texas, or that
my idea would probably be even more successful in New York than in Texas. Why
else do so many easterners pay outrageous sums of money to vacation at dude
ranches? It must be a huge relief to take a break from trying so hard to be jaded and
sophisticated.

I glanced around the table to see if I had any support, but they were all rolling their
eyes or snickering. Once again I'd branded myself as a hick who was totally out of
touch with the New York business world. I silently prayed for a surprise fire drill,
but the meeting went on as if I hadn't said anything.

Joel had the final report. "The sales force met last week to prep for the launch.
We've got our collateral printed and ready to go. We'll just need to see the news
release so we'll know what the press will be seeing."

Mimi fixed him with a killer glare. "Why wasn't I at that meeting? And why didn't I
get sign-off of the collateral?"
Joel stared her down. "Because last time you were invited to one of our meetings
you said it was a waste of time and told us to leave you out from here on. As for
collateral, that's not your responsibility."

The rest of us looked for cover. I wouldn't have been at all surprised if Mimi's eyes
had turned red, her skin had turned green, and little horns popped out of the top of
her head. Collateral was a sore spot with her. In most companies it fell under the
responsibility of the marketing director, but ever since she signed off on a brochure
that misspelled the company's name and the product name on the cover, that
responsibility had been transferred to Sales. She had never recovered from the slight.