When You’re Here, You’re Family
Perhaps god has taken pity on me because after six months of dread and doom, we’re finally pitching a client that’s fun (to me—I’m sure this would be torture to many). A good deal of my time is spent getting up to speed on topics I know nothing about and/or have no interest in, so I can pass along the info to someone who actually does something with it. Like I’ll research pharmaceuticals that are totally unnecessary (you know, things for dry eye and restless leg syndromes), see how CEO’s in certain industries are being quoted so we can “position” our client strategically, find background on the steel industry in the Balkans. Stuff that makes you want to scratch your eyes out. (And that’s just the work, which I don’t really have a problem with—it’s the people around me that make me wish I was blind and deaf.)
So, we have a major chain restaurant conglomerate to pitch (I can’t say who, though it’s not like corporate spies read my blog). That means I’ll spend the next week studying the competition, i.e. what’s on their menu, what’s the pricing structure like, who their target audience is, what kinds of promotions are they doing, etc. Oh, and we’re supposed to try out the restaurants and one of our client’s brands isn’t in NYC so it would involve a daytrip. Unfortunately, I’ll be in Barcelona while my coworkers are eating cheese slathered coconut shrimp or some nonsense. It’s for the best because the company you’re with greatly affects the chain dining experience, and I’d just end up miffed and traumatized.
Luckily, a friend is having a birthday dinner at Olive Garden next Monday so I’ll be able to indulge in a little mass produced fare with people I like. My birthday is Tuesday and I suspect I’ll be taken out to dinner someplace since I usually am, but I’m never informed until the last minute.