Page 6 of Fake it For Good
“I’m not in a bad mood.”
“Why are you looking out the window?” he asked, closing the door behind him.
“Why do you ask so many questions?”
He chuckled and took a seat on the couch in the center of the office. It faced two chairs with a coffee table in between. It was where I often took meetings and had sit-downs with my staff. The office was opulent but not over the top. I liked it. It was one of the few things that had remained the same over the last couple of years of change in my life.
“We need to talk about Christmas,” he said.
“Don’t we always?”
“You said you had some ideas,” he reminded me.
“Not ideas as much as goals,” I said. “We need better distribution. We’ve been trying to keep our brand out of retail to give the illusion we’re only high end. We’re a luxury toy company, but that’s not a business model that’s going to work. We need to think bigger.”
“Like?” he asked with his leg crossed over his knee. His arm stretched across the back of the couch in a very relaxed pose. I liked doing business when people were comfortable. I was certain the ideas flowed better.
“Like Target, Wal-Mart, and places like that,” I said.
He curled his lip. “Really? Isn’t that devaluing our product?”
“Not all products will go in those stores,” I explained. “We’ll have a handful of our lower price points in those stores. It gets us more exposure and sales. We have to get seen. I feel like we’re losing ground. Other brands are expanding, and we have to as well. We’ve got to stay ahead of the curve.”
“I got a call the other day that I think could broaden our market and give us some free good press,” he replied.
“I like free and I like good,” I said.
He flashed a grin. It was the grin that made us millions. He could charm a crowd of investors better than anyone else I knew. He had charm in spades. Denton was born for public speaking. He could be a politician and win in every race.
“Nonprofits,” he said.
“Nonprofits?” I questioned.
“Like underprivileged kids,” he replied. “Foster kids, orphans, and stuff like that. Kids of military families that might not have much.”
I nodded as he spoke. “I like it. We’ve done some work like that in the past, but let’s go bigger. Something flashy. Something that gets our brand in the mouths of people all around the country. Hell, the world.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he said with a laugh. “I’ve already got the team working on a program.”
“Good. I like it.”
“So, I know you don’t like the idea, but we need to revisit it,” he said.
I looked up at the ceiling. I knew it was coming. I had been expecting the conversation. Denton was the only one on my team brave enough to bring up the situation. “I know.”
“We skipped the Mrs. Claus thing last year and it showed,” he said, telling me what I already knew.
“I know.”
“I think you have to do it,” he said. “It doesn’t need to be your wife. Just hire someone to be Mrs. Claus.”
I had a bitter taste in my mouth just thinking of the idea. It had been our thing. Every year Kelly and I dressed up as Mr. and Mrs. Claus. It had been the company schtick. I had not done it since the nightmare divorce. Last year, our sales showed just how important it was to our customers to see me front and center. The Santa thing had been Kelly’s idea. It worked. She loved dressing up and flaunting herself in front of some very powerful people.
“I don’t want to be Santa,” I said firmly. “I wish it worked without me strapping a pillow to my stomach.”
He smirked. “Spoil sport.”
“You do it.”
