did.
“Why don’t you take the day to gather potential contacts,” Conrad suggested, stepping in. “I want big names at this launch. People who are influential. Don’t be shy. Put whoever comes to mind on the list. When it’s complete, I’ll comb through it and make the necessary phone calls.”
Great. More contact lists.
“You mean like Stephen Hawking?”
It was a minor joke, but Conrad lit up. “That’s it, Goldilocks. People who will bring prestige and legitimacy to the product.” He gave me his e-mail address. “The contact list will go straight to me. I’d like to keep it under wraps. My company isn’t as large as Cepheus Scientific. My staff don’t get paid enough to stay loyal with something as big as this.”
“Got it,” I said. “I’ll have it to you by the end of the day.”
“Slow down, take your time,” he said. “I’m more tortoise than hare.”
“Does that make me a hare?” Ms. Goldstein asked, smiling.
“No, my dear. You’re a dove—a class all of your own.”
***
It was nice having the office to myself. Avoiding the harsh glare of the computer screen and certain I’d be spending many days in front of it as soon as the company jumpstarted back into action tomorrow, I went to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked out across the city, my notepad in hand.
I’d made an impression because of Italy, which thrilled me to no end, but I had to share credit with Rawn. This was my first opportunity to stand out completely on my own. It may only be a contact list, but if I could think of someone really clever, it may secure my position at Cepheus Scientific.
However, the more I paced in front of the window, the city below a blur as I fell deep into thought, I realized the standard product launch just wasn’t enough, no matter who was there. Because Cepheus Scientific sold mostly to institutions, not the public, their launches were formal—an afternoon lunch with a lecture highlighting why the product was innovative or superior. It was all business, as stiff as an election campaign.
To grab the attention of the general public, the launch needed to be taken to a whole new level—given the red carpet treatment, something Hollywood and Harvard could appreciate.
A party of stars, in more ways than one.
Motivated by my certainty that I was onto something, I sat on the floor near the window and spent the rest of the day outlining a proposal to end all proposals. When I had my notes in order, I typed them out on the laptop—the one that belonged to Rawn’s assistant. Mine was so clunky compared to the sleek ones around the office, I was too embarrassed to bring it in.
“I hope you’re on honeymoon for a while,” I said out loud as I typed on a keypad so light, it was as if my fingers floated on air.
When the proposal was finished, I didn’t hesitate to send it to Conrad. I had to, knowing my courage would falter as soon as my adrenaline died down. It was possible I was overstepping my bounds, but I knew it was a good idea.
Less than an hour later, I received a reply. There was no praise. I had not expected any, but I had thought there would be more than the short, abrupt message I received.
Not the contact list I was looking for.
Moments later, Ms. Goldstein popped her head into the office. “Madison, hi. Will you follow me into the meeting room? We need to talk.”
***
“Here, let me get you a glass of water,” Annie said, seeing how badly my hand was shaking.
“Thanks,” I said, my throat dry. I had been talking nonstop since I got home.
Returning from the kitchen, she sat back on the couch. “So what happened next?”
“Once I had the idea, I drew out the proposal, and then I emailed it to Conrad.”
Frowning, Annie took a sip
“Why don’t you take the day to gather potential contacts,” Conrad suggested, stepping in. “I want big names at this launch. People who are influential. Don’t be shy. Put whoever comes to mind on the list. When it’s complete, I’ll comb through it and make the necessary phone calls.”
Great. More contact lists.
“You mean like Stephen Hawking?”
It was a minor joke, but Conrad lit up. “That’s it, Goldilocks. People who will bring prestige and legitimacy to the product.” He gave me his e-mail address. “The contact list will go straight to me. I’d like to keep it under wraps. My company isn’t as large as Cepheus Scientific. My staff don’t get paid enough to stay loyal with something as big as this.”
“Got it,” I said. “I’ll have it to you by the end of the day.”
“Slow down, take your time,” he said. “I’m more tortoise than hare.”
“Does that make me a hare?” Ms. Goldstein asked, smiling.
“No, my dear. You’re a dove—a class all of your own.”
***
It was nice having the office to myself. Avoiding the harsh glare of the computer screen and certain I’d be spending many days in front of it as soon as the company jumpstarted back into action tomorrow, I went to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked out across the city, my notepad in hand.
I’d made an impression because of Italy, which thrilled me to no end, but I had to share credit with Rawn. This was my first opportunity to stand out completely on my own. It may only be a contact list, but if I could think of someone really clever, it may secure my position at Cepheus Scientific.
However, the more I paced in front of the window, the city below a blur as I fell deep into thought, I realized the standard product launch just wasn’t enough, no matter who was there. Because Cepheus Scientific sold mostly to institutions, not the public, their launches were formal—an afternoon lunch with a lecture highlighting why the product was innovative or superior. It was all business, as stiff as an election campaign.
To grab the attention of the general public, the launch needed to be taken to a whole new level—given the red carpet treatment, something Hollywood and Harvard could appreciate.
A party of stars, in more ways than one.
Motivated by my certainty that I was onto something, I sat on the floor near the window and spent the rest of the day outlining a proposal to end all proposals. When I had my notes in order, I typed them out on the laptop—the one that belonged to Rawn’s assistant. Mine was so clunky compared to the sleek ones around the office, I was too embarrassed to bring it in.
“I hope you’re on honeymoon for a while,” I said out loud as I typed on a keypad so light, it was as if my fingers floated on air.
When the proposal was finished, I didn’t hesitate to send it to Conrad. I had to, knowing my courage would falter as soon as my adrenaline died down. It was possible I was overstepping my bounds, but I knew it was a good idea.
Less than an hour later, I received a reply. There was no praise. I had not expected any, but I had thought there would be more than the short, abrupt message I received.
Not the contact list I was looking for.
Moments later, Ms. Goldstein popped her head into the office. “Madison, hi. Will you follow me into the meeting room? We need to talk.”
***
“Here, let me get you a glass of water,” Annie said, seeing how badly my hand was shaking.
“Thanks,” I said, my throat dry. I had been talking nonstop since I got home.
Returning from the kitchen, she sat back on the couch. “So what happened next?”
“Once I had the idea, I drew out the proposal, and then I emailed it to Conrad.”
Frowning, Annie took a sip
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