Malcolm Costain - ADLANDIA: Tales From The Industry Of Persuasion

Copyright 2017 Malcolm Costain

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ADLANDIA

Malcolm Costain

Contents

You cant buy a ticket to Adlandia. You cant find it on a map and you cant drive there or fly there. If you knew what it was, you wouldnt want to go there. But you cross the frontier into Adlandia when you tell yourself that your ad is really, really important.

Albie Turner, Partner, ECD, Audacity Inc.

Book One: Full Bleed

We wanted out. We wanted in. We loved it and hated it. Someone was about to leave and start their own agency. Someone else was going to become a photographer, a director, a game designer, an Instagram poet. Someone was going to write a book.

Then ten years passed and we were all still there.

Kelvin Reis, Associate Creative Director, The Renegades Agency

Natural Grace

8:30 a.m.

Office of Leona Lee

Senior Account Director

Calthorpe Advertising

40thFloor, Calthorpe Tower

Downtown

Leona Lee, thirty-six years old and the acting account director on the Natural Grace Cosmetics account, sat frozen before the screen of her laptop. Her mouth was open and her hands were suspended above the square black tiles of the keyboard.

She had been locked in this position for almost thirty seconds, not even blinking, hardly even breathing, as motionless as a screenshot from a horror movie.

On her laptop, her email browser waited for her next command. The cursor blinked and the mouse pointed. The unread emails stood impatiently in their ranks. Whats it going to be, they seemed to ask. Select email? Reply to email? Compose email? Delete email? Were waiting for you.

But there was only one command that Leona Lee wanted, the one command that could undo the catastrophic mistake she had just made: the command to recall an email.

Shit, said Leona. Shit, shit, shit!

The trouble was, Leona didnt know how to use the command. She wasnt even sure it existed. The recall email command was like an urban myth. Maybe it existed; maybe it didnt.

Leona brought her hands up to her face and held them there. What have I done? she whispered. What have I done?

*

Forty-five minutes earlier, Leonas career had seemed much brighter.

Striding through the lobby of Calthorpe Tower, her heels echoing on the glistening stonework, she was the epitome of a woman whose star was rising.

The security guards outside the elevators smiled at her as she strode by. They could tell that here was a beautiful young woman on her way up. They didnt even mind that she ignored them.

It was true. Leona was on her way up in all senses of the word. Last month, she had been only one of many ambitious account managers in the Calthorpe empire. Now, she had risen above them to the rarified air of the higher ranks. She was acting account director on the Natural Grace Cosmetics account, the agencys most important clienta client more lucrative than either the famous sporting goods client or the alcohol client, both of whose brands encircled the globe.

Arriving at the elevators, Leona pressed the button for the fortieth floor. She looked at her reflection in the elevators shiny metal. Her reflection gazed back at a tall, elegant young woman with an Anna Wintour hairstyle and a small but satisfied smile.

Well now, said Leona to the reflection.

The elevator rocketed upward, like Leonas career, and made its destination without stopping once.

The doors opened and Leona strode forth into the corridor. All was quiet. No one else was there. It was too early for most people to arrive, but not for Leona. Early mornings, hard work, and dedication had gotten her this far; she wasnt going to stop now.

She arrived at her officethe office on the corner with a view over the city.

Leona stepped inside and strode toward her desk. She passed the row of framed posters hanging on the walls. Each was a Natural Grace advertisement; each was an example of the brand in action, with everyday women wearing the various creams, blushes, nail polishes, lipsticks and eyeliners.

Leona hardly noticed them. Only one caught her attention. It hung just beside her desk: a framed photograph of the famously imposing marketing director of Natural Grace, Augusta Chan. The photo had been a gift to Leonas predecessor, Rebecca Dawes. There was an autograph on the photo from Augusta herself: To Rebecca with thanks, Augusta.

Leona wondered at the poster, as she did most mornings. Rebecca Dawes had managed the Natural Grace account through five years of extraordinary growth, a great achievement for both client and agency.

But then, just when Rebecca should have been capitalizing on her success, something inexplicable happened: Rebecca Dawes had been fired and left the agency immediately.

No one would say what happened. Rebecca was uncontactable.

*

Leona sat down at her desk and got straight to work.

First, she reviewed the contact reports from last weeks meeting with the marketing team at Natural Grace. Then, she viewed the edit from the TV shoot in Thailand for Natural Grace Surrender.

By 8:30 a.m. she was ready for the next task: her email.

Leona clicked her mouse; Leona scrolled; Leona flagged; Leona deleted. For important emails, Leona selected Reply and typed her responses. The keys clattered beneath her flying fingernails, each one gleaming red with Natural Grace Liquid Passion. Then, Leona sent each email away with a satisfying SLAP of the return key.

Away went a reply to a request for annual leave. Away went her acceptance to meet with Calthorpe CEO, Randall Wallace at 10:00 that morning. Away went a myriad of replies, until there was only one email left.

It was an email from augustachan@naturalgrace.com.

Leona leaned closer to her computer screen. An email from Augusta Chan was to be treated with great caution, and there was something unusual about this particular email that caused Leonas heartbeat to quicken.

The email was addressed to leonalee@calthorpe.com but it had also been ccd to everyone else who worked on the account, from Randall Wallace to the most junior designer.

The subject line simply read, I expect better.

Leona began to read. As her eyes raked from left to right, she heard the deep, cold, and dangerous tone of Augusta Chans voice.

Dear Ms Leona Lee,

Now that we have finally managed to launch the Glisten campaign, I would like to bring to your attention several matters that caused my concern during the last month.

To say the least, I am very unhappy with the performance of both the account service and creative teams.

Many times, members of my staff discovered lapses on your side that can only be described as sloppy and careless. Instructions were not followed, insufficient attention was paid to detail, updates were infrequent, deadlines were missed.

These lapses are in addition to the poor standard of creative work for the Glisten campaign. In particular, I question the recommendation by the agency to use Ms Kirsty K as the celebrity chosen to endorse the product. She may be popular with our target audience, but she is an unknown quantity with regard to her conduct in the media spotlight. This concerns me greatly.

The most disappointing aspect, however, concerns your own performance, Ms Lee. You were recommended highly to us as someone with the experience to deliver the high standard of service we expect. We are yet to see any indication of this.

Frankly, a client of the size and importance of Natural Grace should not have to put up with such poor service.

I expect better and have instructed my team to monitor your progress to ensure that better is delivered or we will have to reassess our current relationship.