Up & Out - Ariella Papa [24]
For the next three hours, we watch tape after poorly produced tape of propaganda about the diverse and profitable ventures that fall under the Indiana Mutual umbrella. Their motto is something dumb, as in, “Saving for you.” I can’t believe this is really necessary.
“The graphics are horrible,” Janice whispers.
“Quiet, infidels,” John says, smiling. I swear they are going to kiss. I’m not sure if I have more of a problem with being brainwashed or being seated next to the top-secret-but-not-really couple.
Various heads of various departments come up to the podium to introduce themselves and discuss how much they love working for Indiana Mutual. I wonder if they realize that Explore! is an entertainment company. That we wear jeans and read Entertainment Weekly. I wonder whose awful idea this is.
“Hey, guys,” I hear someone whisper behind us. Don Beckford. “I got pulled out of a production shoot for this.”
Now there is another snooze at the podium—a woman. She is talking about what a great fit our brands will be.
“We’ve got a really fantastic afternoon planned for you after lunch, and to give you a little idea, take a look at this. I think you’ll recognize the client.”
The lights go dim. It starts as a commercial in a bank. When the bank teller calls “next” she has trouble seeing the customer. Then we all see the customer and my mouth drops open. I turn to look at Janice and John and they are also in shock. My eyes must be deceiving me, I can’t, I just can’t believe this is happening. The red onions I lovingly placed on my bagel start to repeat on me. It is Esme, with a different voice, poorly animated, asking a teller to open a banking account. It is a strange thirty seconds. During the spot, I think time is standing still, and afterward I can’t believe it has really happened. My only proof of what I might have seen is the way Janice reaches out her hand to squeeze my shoulder. My tongue feels thick. My Esme is being prostituted to promote a bank. What?
“They must have stolen the animation test we did when she goes to get ice cream.” I appreciate that Janice has tried to crack how they did it. It is very Esme of her to play detective. But my real concern is why? And how often will it happen?
“They’ve got an awful voice-over, that’s for sure,” John says. “Rebecca, are you all right?”
I don’t know what to say. The lights come up and the media guru who benignly ruined my creation comes back to the podium.
“Okay, everyone, enjoy your lunch, but save your energy, we’ve got a big afternoon ahead of us.” That is our cue to leave the theater. I can’t move.
“Rebecca, come on, let’s get lunch,” John says.
“Hey, Becky, great job—way to get in with the big guys.” Don Beckford again. I finally speak.
“If you think I had anything to do with that travesty, you’re mistaken.” I don’t mean to sound so snotty. It is one thing to lose a little control of Esme, but this is beyond that. She is hawking savings accounts. Is nothing sacred?
“Why not?” Don Beckford asks. “I can only dream they’d like the Gopher that much.”
“I wish they would, too. Let the Gopher open a bank account.” I say this really loud, I am sure of it, but I am pissed. I don’t want Esme to be overexposed. I don’t want people to make decisions about her without me.
“Lunch, Rebecca, let’s get lunch,” Janice says, leading me out of the theater. “Calm down.”
“How can I?”
“It was just a mock-up, they would never air that.”
“Maybe not that one, but how do you even think they got the animation?” I look at her and John.
“We have no idea, but you need to relax.”
Our lunch is a far cry from breakfast. It is all a sick joke. We get soggy sandwiches and an apple. I don’t say a word the entire time. I’m certain that Janice and John would have preferred to eat alone, but they are stuck with me.
After lunch, I try to get up to my office, to check e-mail, voice mail and scream, but there are human resources reps at the doors. We are a captive audience. They say things that they’ve obviously been