we have standards
– Marilyn Monroe
An image haunts me—the picture of a beautiful Afghan girl on an old cover of Time Magazine with her nose and ears cut off—her crime? —Running away from a husband’s continuous beatings.
She’s the role model I’ll follow, not the high-fiving, “You go girl!” hype that passes for feminism in our culture.
I work for Carrington Marketing and every day see examples of the subjection of women that John Stuart Mill never dreamt about. The women I truly admire are the ones who keep their dignity while all about them are losing theirs.
I think you know what I mean.
Anyway, in the marketing biz, the flavor for this month is Rainbow Ripple Ice Cream. Hugh Winston, the president of the firm, decreed to the VP’s of marketing and finance that this was the campaign to pitch and put over the top—or else—meaning, heads will roll.
Since there are only two people responsible for the Rainbow Ripple account—Liza Lafair—that’s me—and Winifred Terrion aka the terrier, obviously only one of us will win.
Sound dramatic? I don’t think so. You don’t know the marketing business.
I was sitting in Coro’s pondering my future when Jilly Bean walked in—that’s not her real name, of course, it’s Jillian Stuart, but the moment she spotted me I could sense a lecture coming.
“I can’t believe you’re taking time for lunch,” she exclaimed, throwing her coat over a vacant chair and sitting down opposite me. She caught the eye of the waiter and was already ordering her drink by hand signals.
I shook my head and said drolly, “I should have bought you a semaphore for Christmas instead of a new i-phone—you’d be better able to communicate with the wait staff.”
The waiter dropped her drink as Jilly pointed on the menu to meal number three and he melted away to the dark canyons of the kitchen.
“Time is money,” Jilly sang brightly as it that excused her behaviour.
“It’s also what life is made of Jilly—savor it sometime.”
“I will dahling,” she purred in her best Zsa Zsa accent, “only find me a rich husband first.”
“You’re incorrigible,” I laughed.
“Vell, a girl has to get by!”
The waiter returned with her plate. “You ordered the goulash!” I yelped.
“Seemed appropriate.”
I reached across the table and patted her arm affectionately. “Ah Jilly, what are we doing in this cut-throat business?”
“Making a living dear heart—what else are we fit for? —Apart from adorning the arm of a wealthy man.”
“Yes and I suppose you’re about to tell me, beauty is the only thing worth having in a woman.”
“Well, that and money. Beauty fades, but diamonds last forever.”
“Okay, enough of your sexist commercial—I don’t have to be a
bimbo or a cut-throat—there’s a middle ground, you know.”
“Well, if it’s not a wedding band, then what is it?”
“It’s called being a woman of dignity. C’mon Jilly—use your real feminine wiles to get ahead. Intelligence and character still count you know.”
Jilly was still unconvinced.
“Yeah well, speaking of counting, the Terrier has already scored a dinner meeting with Brad Beaumont, the owner of Rainbow Ripple—she’s wining and dining him tonight at the Ritz. I’d say the score now stands: Terrier one, Liza Loafer zip.”
“I’m not a loafer—maybe a little laid-back, but I’m planning on meeting with him tomorrow at his office.”
“How mundane! Why don’t you just give Winifred the account and end up working as her assistant?”
“I have a plan, Jilly—I’m not worried.”
“Well, that makes one of us. Me? I’m plenty worried. I’d rather be your assistant than the Digger’s”
“Don’t worry—I don’t have to be fierce and tenacious to succeed. I think I know what Brad Beaumont needs to make him successful.”
Jilly wrinkled her nose. “ Well, tell me and I’ll turn myself into her—Winifred’s certainly plying her charms.”
“Let’s put it this way—men hunt treasures—treasures don’t hunt men. I’m not throwing myself at Brad Beaumont and if he’s a real man, he’ll appreciate that.”
“We’ll see tomorrow who’s got the better plan,” Jilly pouted, “and it better be you or I’ll be out looking for a job.”
Brad Beaumont was cordial and charming. He was about five years older than me, yet still unattached—I wondered why.
I sat listening as he talked about his plans for Rainbow Ripple—I watched him getting excited—he looked like a big kid. Suddenly, an inspiration hit me.
“Did you eat lunch?”
He stopped and thought. “I can’t remember,” he laughed.
“Well, I didn’t and I’m hungry. Why don’t we grab a bite to eat?”
“Sure. Do you want me to call for my driver?”
“Oh no, I thought we’d just walk and get something locally.”
“Uh, okay,” he said a bit dubiously, as he grabbed his coat.
We walked along Broadway enjoying the sun and I pointed him toward a small Ice Cream Parlor called Freezes.
“Have you ever been here?”
“Can’t say as I have,” he said, studying the old retro style booths, each with a built-in jukebox.
“I come here all the time. I love the atmosphere—it’s so friendly. The neighborhood kids drop in and even businessmen stop by for Tony’s famous shakes or his ice cream dishes.”
“Seems like a nice place,” he smiled.
“Hey Tony,” I shouted to the owner. “ How about two of your Super Deluxe Specials?”
Tony was in his forties—Italian, with curly dark hair, just starting to go gray. He looked like Jim Croce. He was always smiling.
Brad seemed fascinated by the place. “What’s in their Super Deluxe Special?”
“Bananas, maraschino cherries, whipped cream, peanuts and…Rainbow Ripple Ice Cream.”
“You’re kidding,” he said, breaking into a boyish grin.
Tony overheard us and said, “The secret ingredient is Rainbow Ripple—those guys make old-style ice cream—big flavor and real ingredients.”
Brad looked at me and I just smiled.
“So what are you telling me here?” he asked.
“I guess that if you have a good product, you emphasize that aspect—like Tony says—Old-Style Ice Cream—it never goes out of fashion.”
“Old-Style Ice Cream, “ he repeated, “ it never goes out of fashion—I like that slogan.”
“It’s not a slogan,” I said softly, “it’s the truth.”
The next day, Brad chose my ad campaign over Winifred’s. He liked Tony’s old-fashioned ice cream parlor so much, he insisted it be featured in all the commercials and ads.
As for Winifred—she kind of won too. Brad asked her out and now they’re seeing each other.
For Jilly, it’s a win-win. She gets to stay on and is now betting that Winifred marries Brad and goes to work for him—that way, Jilly will inherit her job.
In terms of outcomes, it couldn’t have turned out better. It was a day when no heads rolled, but oh that Winnie—she really is a terrier!