December 14, 2020
The Pitch
It was the end of a long day and I was looking forward to hitting a few balls and then taking a shvitz. I was packing up and getting ready to go when my partner, Barry Leviticus, walked into my office. He did not look happy. Barry had been my partner for nearly twenty years.
Together, the two of us had built the biggest pr/marketing agency in all of Babylonia - Leviticus and Numbers. We were descendants from the people who had been exiled. While most of us went back, our families stayed behind and made a life together here.
It was a great partnership. I was the ideas guy and Barry took care of finance. It is a bit ironic because my name is Numbers, Mendel Numbers. It was Barry though who was the happiest taking care of the financials. Sometimes that’s just the way it goes in the public relations game. But now, Barry did not look happy. I had seen that look before when we couldn’t make payroll but that couldn’t be the case because we were flush with cash.
Anyway, I was about to find out because you could say what you wanted about Barry Leviticus but he didn’t beat around the burning bush.
“They want us to pitch,” he said.
Getting asked to pitch was usually a good thing. It was only bad if it was an existing client.
“Who wants us to pitch?” I asked but I was afraid I already knew.
“The Board. They are coming in at 9 am. They want a brand-new campaign. Something fresh. Something which will excite the younger demographic.”
The Board was our biggest account. For five years we had handled all of their branding and publicity. They used to have an in-house guy but 5 years ago I convinced them to take us on. They now represented 50% of our total business. This was my fault. Instead of going out and getting new business I had coasted and rested on my laurels.
“Ok,” I said. “This isn’t a disaster. We can do this.”
“Mendel,” said Barry, “they are taking other meetings. Word is they are meeting with other agencies.”
“Jumping Jehoshavus!” I said. “Please tell me they aren’t meeting with Bartholomew and Mathew.” B and M were our biggest rivals. They had created the greatest marketing campaign of all time. Just this morning I had drunk coffee from a ‘walk on water’ mug.
“I don’t know. But it doesn’t look good.”
“Don’t panic Barry,” I said. “I’ll come up with something.”
So much for golf and a steam. I would have to pull an all-nighter. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. I went to make myself a cup of coffee but remembered the canister was empty. This morning I had reused the grounds I had fished out from the garbage along with the old filter. I would have to do that again. It had been gross but drinkable; coffee was Barry’s responsibility. Barry had better buy new coffee in time for the Board.
The Board showed up at 9 on the nose. Four of them. In formal suits. Barry and I stood nervously as they made their way into our conference room.
“I can’t tell one Cohen from another,” I whispered.
“Will you shut up!” Barry hissed back.
I took drink orders. Two black coffees, one with cream, and one tea with honey. Barry had picked up crullers along with coffee on the way to the office. I served the hot drinks in our own promotional mugs. They were adorned with the slogan which we, actually, which I had come up with, five years ago in our first pitch meeting.
They tried to kill us. We won. Let’s eat.
I was proud of it. It had won awards. It was a classic. Who would want to mess around with a classic.
We started with small talk.
“Mendel, how is your game?” Asked one of the board members.
“Can’t get rid of that slice. You will have to let me take you out to the club.”
“I would love to. But it is our busy season. A lot of anointing. I am booked back to back”
Barry could not brook much small talk.
“Are we losing your account?” He blurted out.
“Chas v'shalom. Heaven forbid!” Said one of the board members. “We love Leviticus and Numbers. We are just looking for a little rebranding for one of our products.”
Well this wasn’t the disaster I expected. Barry had worried me for nothing.
“Which product?” I asked.
“Hanukkah,” said one of the board members.
Hanukkah. I wasn’t surprised. Their in-house guy had completely butchered the message. Here we were in the fifth century and there was still a debate about the spelling. It was a nightmare. We had gone a long way in repairing the brand. Last year we launched Maccabi action figures. But these things take time. It was not an easy sell. For now, we had lumped Hanukkah together with Purim as part of our ‘they tried to kill us we won let’s eat’ campaign. But Purim was an easier sell. It was a no brainer - a clear-cut hero. A clear-cut villain. Costume parties and drinking. That product sold itself. Hanukkah was much tougher. It had been a great victory but had come with costs.
“Ok,” I said, “we can come up with something. How much time do we have?”
One of the Board said “No time. This is the pitch.”
Leviticus asked if anyone wanted another cruller. Everyone had a second helping. They were delicious.
“What’s your goal here?” I asked.
“We would like to have greater participation. Especially amongst the younger demographic. You have seen the numbers. We just can’t get any traction.”
I had seen the numbers. They weren't good.
“Drinking is always good,” suggested Leviticus.
“No more drinking,” declared one of the Cohens. Between Purim and the four cups at Pesach our people are becoming shickers.”
I thought about it.
“How about gambling?”
The Cohens spoke amongst themselves.
“Gambling we can live with,” they declared.
“Maybe a little gift giving?” I suggested. “Presents are very popular these days.”
“We don’t want to commercialize it,” said one of the Board.
“Well, we could cap it at 20 shekels. Just a token.”
“I think we can live with that,” he said.
I stood up and walked to the big calendar on our white board. A lot of the holidays were bunched together in the same months in the fall.
“How married are you to the date?” I asked.
The Cohens again talked amongst themselves.
“We are flexible about the date,” one finally said. “What do you have in mind?” I pointed to the empty white space in December. “Let’s move it to December. It will have the entire month to itself. Nothing to compete with. No other distractions.”
“Except for the birthday,” mumbled Leviticus.
That was true. There was the birthday. B and M had done such a good job on that campaign. The way they stretched it out.
The Cohens mumbled amongst themselves. The birthday was a bit of a sore spot.
Although...
“Although,” I said, “maybe we can leverage with something for ourselves.”
“There can be no birthday,” declared one of the board members.
“No,” I said. I was now on a roll. This is why they paid me the big bucks. “Not a birthday. A miracle. What we need here is a miracle.”
The Cohens all nodded their heads. They were big fans of miracles.
“But what could it be?”
And then I remembered the coffee I had made with the discarded filter.
“How bout this. The Maccabees recaptured the temple and wanted to light the ceremonial candles but there was only enough oil for one night. The miracle is that the oil lasted for three nights.”
“Three nights isn’t much of a miracle,” said Leviticus. “What about eight?”
“I love it,” I said, “and we light one extra candle every night.” Now I was cooking with gas.
“We can make promotional items. Coffee mugs, key chains, mouse pads. With a new slogan.” I held up my hand as if in thought. But I had already come up with it.
“A Big Miracle Happened Here”
The Cohens repeated it to themselves. A big miracle happened here. It was gold. Sometimes, in the middle of a pitch, you just know that you nailed it. We got the thumbs up. They were clearly thrilled with our idea.
They got up to leave. We all shook hands.
“When can you show us a deck?” One asked.
“Let me bring in design and analytics. I should have something for you in two days.”
We said our goodbyes. There was excitement in the air.
As he was walking out the door one of the Cohens turned back and said, “Those crullers were delicious. Maybe see if you can include something with fried dough.”
And I said “I’ll see what I can do.”
The end.