Free Advanced Mythology by Jody Lynn Nye Page B

if you hire us we will give you the best possible exposure, and bring in the maximum number of customers in the demographics. PDQ can present advertisements in any medium, and we welcome customer involvement. You tell us what you want, and we’ll do it.”
    Mann and the others nodded. Keith knew from Dorothy’s hasty briefing that PDQ was only one of a dozen or more agencies that were being given an audience, and almost certainly not the first to present that day. The primary approach had been made to Gadfly by the upper management of PDQ. The real test that determined whether they got the account would come later.
    “So …” Allen said when the silence went on too long, “what is the product?”
    “One thing at a time,” Bill Mann said, his resonant voice slow and unhurried. “You know the old saying about how you only get one chance to make a first impression. We want your first impression of our baby.”
    Mann gestured with one large hand to Lehmann, who lifted a box to the tabletop. “In there is the prototype of the GF Mark One. It doesn’t have a name yet. Name it. Give us one we really like, the one, and the account’s yours. Believe me, we’ve heard from a dozen agencies already. You can’t believe how many wrong ideas we’ve heard already.”
    Peggy smirked, tossing her long hair. “Yes, we can.”
    “Well, Gadfly was founded by people who like to work by the seat of their pants. So, we want to know if you’re like us. That’s why your creative people are here. We don’t want a big-time production until we’re sure we can work with you. I promise you, we’ve thought of as many dumb names on our own as anybody can. We don’t like one of them. We want to see how you think.”
    The PDQ staff shifted uneasily. Keith, who was already quivering with nerves, had to sit on his hands to keep from springing up.
    “Usually,” Dorothy said carefully, “you give us the details of what you want, and we bring it to you later, for your approval.”
    “Nope. Not this time. We want more. No, we want now. That’s how we work. It’s a test. We make up our minds very quickly. Inspiration’s usually the best indicator of how people think. I speak for the rest of the guys—guys being a unisex term in our office,” he said, reaching out to touch the table before Dorothy and Peggy, “so what I like here today goes. Got it?”
    “Whatever you say,” Dorothy said, looking at her fellow employees. The customer was always right.
    The PDQ staff nodded warily. Keith didn’t want to say out loud that brainstorming and quick inspiration were pretty much how he had been taught to work on ad campaigns, but the staff wasn’t used to doing it in front of the client. Though they were all seasoned professionals in their field, such a challenge put them under a kind of pressure they weren’t accustomed to handling. They accepted Gadfly’s terms, then waited as the cardboard box was passed from Theo Lehmann to Jennifer Schick.
    Keith leaned forward in anticipation. He saw some of the other, more experienced execs sitting back, seemingly cool and disinterested, but it was a pose. Were they frightened of making a bad impression, or did they really not care any more after so many years in the business? Keith hoped he’d never become that jaded.
    No such ennui plagued the people from Gadfly. They were up about their product, almost bouncing in their seats with excitement. They could hardly wait as Ms. Schick opened the box.
    “All right, ladies and gentlemen,” Bill Mann intoned proudly, “Gadfly presents the GF Mark One, the next great step in personal electronic technology. This is the One-Dee version. We’ll probably be in One-Eff by the time we go to market, but it will look just like this. Jen?”
    “This” was a small blue-gray box, about six inches long by two and a half wide by an inch high. Jen Schick turned it in her hands. One flat side of the unit was mostly made up of screen. The other had a small