Cross Dressing Read Online Free PDF Page A

torture just because some latter-day Norman Vincent Peale was peddling positive thinking.
    Dan put Scott in the “Backsliding Climber” lifestyle segment. He was a Paul McCartney—listening, dating-service-dependent, United Way—supporting, one-bedroom-apartment-renting model hobbyist. “Time’s wasting,” Dan said.
    “Oh, right,” Scott replied. He was clutching several sheets of paper, still warm from his printer. He cleared his throat. “I think I’ve got the answer to the Fujioka question.” He waved the papers feebly.
    “So you said.” Dan looked at his recent phone messages, savoring the one from Beverly. “Minute fifty, I’m waiting.”
    Scott spread all but one of the papers onto Dan’s desk. They were comps—rudimentary ad layouts, a little artwork, and sample copy that Scott had thrown together on his computer in the last few hours. It was crude, admittedly, but at the same time, there was something inspired about it. Dan saw that right away.
    “It’s a reverse Zen thing, okay?” Scott pointed at one ofthe pages. “Here’s our spokesman. An old, wise-looking Japanese guy, like … like Master Po on
Kung Fu.”
    “He was Chinese,” Dan said, glancing at his watch again. “Minute thirty.”
    Scott’s stomach tightened as he continued, wanting just to get this over with. “Okay, Chinese. Anyway, he’s in a lotus position, right? Sitting by a pool reflecting the Fujioka logo.”
    Dan glanced at the documents. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He yawned.
    Scott was dying, but there was no turning back. “Okay, you know how Fujioka wants to position themselves with the whole bigger-louder-brighter angle, right? So here’s the tag …” Scott pulled the last piece of paper from behind his back with a tepid flourish. He held it up for Dan to see and read it aloud. “More Is More,” Scott said. He paused briefly to let it sink in. “Get it? It’s a twist on the Zen thing, less is more, but it’s More Is More. See, it—”
    “I get it already. A chimp would get it, okay?” Dan knew instantly that Scott had created the perfect campaign for Fujioka. It was elegant, it appealed perfectly to the target demographic and its bloated desire for conspicuous consumption, and best of all, it had legs. Given this, there was only one thing Dan could say. “This is crap. Why are you wasting my time with this?”
    Dan might as well have disemboweled Scott with a staple remover. “Crap?” Scott asked.
    Dan was suddenly conflicted. A lot of guys in Dan’s position would have attached themselves to the idea and shared in the certain glory. But with the price of his mom’s care going up, Dan couldn’t afford to do that. He needed this one all to himself. “Scott,” he said, “I know you mean well and I know you’d like that associate creative director position, but I just don’t think this is it. Good try, though.”
    Scott wanted to die. Why had he done this? “Is it really that bad?” he asked.
    “Let me try to put this in sort of a ‘less is more’ way … yes. And I’m not trying to be mean, but Fujioka would never go for it. They’d be over at Ogilvy’s by lunch if we pitched this.” Dan stacked the papers and held them up. “Who else has seen this?”
    “Nobody,” Scott said. “Why?”
    Dan dropped the papers into the trash. “Keep it that way. Oren doesn’t take kindly to employees working outside the team concept.
Capisce?”
    Scott could hear his father’s voice chiding him. The little ego he had left quickly withered. He looked sadly at the trash can. “Could I have that?” His voice was timid. “It’s the master copy.”
    Dan waved him off. “Scott, it’s a waste of time, shake it off. You’re better off forgetting it. Now, shoo, I’ve got work to do.” Dan picked up the phone and dialed. Emmons slouched out of the room, defeated, yet oddly reassured that he had nothing to offer. When the door closed, Dan hung up the phone and shook his head in wonder. He reached into