Beyond the Point(79)

Jim Webb had flown in from New York, with three other E & G executives. They lingered outside of the conference room, in crisp suits of different shades of gray. The tension in the atrium became palpable as the minutes drew closer to nine o’clock. Hundreds of thousands of dollars spent—on the building, the research, the insights, the art, the preparation—and if the deal happened, another few million dollars would change hands in an instant. All of this just to sell disposable razors, Dani mused, eyeing her superiors’ glittering watches and shined shoes. Four little blades on a plastic stick.

Just then, Laura Klein came through the door, a flurry of energy and anxiety. She wore the exact same black dress she wore every other day, only this time, the blond-haired woman had chosen a pair of red high heels and red-rimmed glasses to match. Giving Dani a once-over, her boss winked, the closest thing to approval Dani had received from her to date.

“Is it ready?” Laura asked.

“Yep.” Dani picked up the remote from the table and clicked through a few slides, then back to the beginning. “It’s all ready to go.”

“Audio, too,” said her colleague Philip, who was standing behind the computer, testing the speakers.

“Good,” Laura breathed. “No surprises. This has to be perfect.”

“You’ll do great,” Dani said, hoping to sound encouraging. But from the look on Laura’s face, Dani knew it came across as condescending.

As the crowd of white men migrated into the conference room, Dani stood back in wonder. It felt like a dream, really, to be this female, this black, in this room. Jim Webb made the introductions, taking time to properly flatter the man of the hour, Gelhomme’s CEO, Paul Duval. Dressed in a three-piece suit, with a swooping hairstyle, Duval held the seat at the head of the table, looking unimpressed. He checked his watch.

“Over the last year and a half or so, our researchers have conducted nearly one thousand in-home interviews in more than one hundred target countries,” Jim Webb began. “This is the largest consumer study E & G has conducted for a single client.”

“I can assure you,” Laura said, interrupting Webb, “we’ve watched more men shower in the last six months than you’d care to know.”

The CEO didn’t laugh.

“Laura, why don’t you go ahead and share what we’ve come up with for Gelhomme’s new razor launch,” Jim said.

Laura smoothed her black dress. She stood, took her place at the end of the table, and switched the computer screen to the presentation Dani had painstakingly written and designed for this very moment.

“As you well know, Gelhomme is the standard bearer for men’s products,” Laura said. “In interview after interview, we found that subjects mentioned Gelhomme with reverence, by name. You have a brand that is trusted and respected, Mr. Duval. That is no small feat.

“But . . .” Laura pressed a button, but the slide didn’t change. She shook the remote, pressed the button again. “Well. Sorry. This was supposed to go to the next slide.”

Philip quickly moved to the computer and tried to manually move the presentation forward. Nothing. You could feel the energy in the room shift, and Dani exchanged a worried glance with Jim Webb across the table. It was doubtful Laura had the order of the presentation memorized, Dani knew. She and Philip were the ones who’d written it and rewritten it time and time again. When they’d run through it last night, Laura had stumbled over the taglines—to get it right, Dani had noticed her boss had to read them off the screen.

“Sorry,” Philip said. “I think we’re frozen for a moment. I have to restart the computer.”

“That’s fine,” said Duval from the head of the table. “Just continue. It’ll eventually catch up.”

“Certainly, certainly,” said Laura, but by this point, she was visibly flustered. She cleared her throat, shuffled some papers in front of her, and adjusted her glasses. Buying time. “Well, as I was saying . . . uh . . . Gelhomme is a household name. A trusted brand. But. Er . . . There’s no denying that the market is changing.”

Quietness fell on the room. The CEO of their biggest client checked his watch again and looked at the door. Dani felt her stomach twist. Laura was fumbling. She was ruining all the work they’d done for nearly two years. Jim Webb shot Dani a look of desperation. He lifted his chin, as if to say . . . You. Now. Take it away.

“Laura’s right,” said Dani, still seated at the table. Paul Duval turned to look at her. “The women’s beauty market is a massive thirty-billion-dollar industry. By contrast, the male beauty market figures in the single-digit millions. Minuscule in comparison. Obviously, the two pies will never be the same size. We won’t argue that point. Women are too vain to let men look better than they do.”

The CEO grinned. Laura adjusted her weight on her high heels and smiled, as if this were all part of the plan.

“But clearly, there’s an opportunity up for grabs in the male sector,” Dani continued. “Our research shows that in the next ten years, men’s grooming will grow from a ten-billion-dollar industry to something closer to twenty billion. Unfortunately, if you continue with the messaging of yesterday, Gelhomme won’t capitalize on that growth.”

“Go on,” Duval said, spinning his chair toward Dani.

“For decades, your brand has dominated the market by making one promise: your razors provide the closest shave. Period. It was a functional claim, and that worked for a while. But what happens when every razor gives a close shave? What happens when your consumer stands in front of the mirror, day after day, knowing that no matter how close the shave is today, he’ll be back again tomorrow doing it all over again?”