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idea but still believed that at best, there was really only one media hit per outlet in each city. It seemed like a big investment for a few clippings.
    Amanda went on to describe setting up a news bureau of sorts to develop and pitch story ideas on a sustained basis. This would be staffed, nearly full-time, by a team of four in our office, with others contributing potential stories as well. The social mediateam proposed setting up a “ NASA in Canada” blog, Facebook presence, YouTube channel, and Twitter feed. I tried to make up the ground I’d lost in the last meeting by adding a few thoughts and tweaks to some of the stories and commending my colleagues on the others. But I mostly kept my head down in the meeting. Finally, a junior account coordinator blurted out that we should create a NASA mascot, kind of like the San Diego Chicken, so we could tour him/her/it around the country visiting schools, hospitals, and malls. We hemmed and hawed, then killed the mascot idea after what I thought was a surprisingly long discussion.
    Finally, at some unspoken signal, two hours in, the meeting just seemed to end. I still wasn’t that impressed with what we’d pulled together but I was keeping quiet. I was also still digesting the proposed budget for the Canadian program – just over one million dollars.
    “Okay, folks, I think we’ve got our plan and I think it’s solid,” Amanda declared. “It may not push the leading edge of creativity, but it will get the job done for a very conservative client. I think it’s what they’re looking for. I’m going to revamp the deck to include the new ideas we’ve just discussed, and put it to bed. We owe it to the D.C. office by close of business today so it can be blended with theirs. Nice work, everyone.”
    I was still fingering my keychain flash drive where I’d stored my contest slides. I wasn’t inclined to say anything given how I’d messed up my first meeting, so I didn’t. But Diane did.
    “Just before we break up, David, will you present your contest idea now that you’ve fleshed it out a bit?”
    I watched people sag back into their chairs.
    “Um, sure, Diane.”
    I really didn’t want to get into this, as the plan seemed to have been finalized already, and everyone was keen to get out of there. But I slid my flash drive into the laptop, dragged the file onto Amanda’s desktop, and a moment later had my first slide on the screen. I was more nervous presenting in front of my new colleagues than I thought I’d be. My start was shaky, but after zipping up my fly, things seemed to run more smoothly. I confess, I really liked this idea, even though I had just blurted it out at the previous meeting without the benefit of actually thinking it through. But even after a few days of kicking it around inside my head, I was more committed to it than before. Since Yuri Gagarin first left our atmosphere and found himself floating in the great black void, there has always been a mystique about astronauts. They aren’t like other humans, but exist on a higher plane. They went into space, while we stayed on Earth to cut the lawn and mind the kids. But the Citizen Astronaut contest finally broke down that barrier and allowed at least one mere mortal Canadian to fly with the elite astronauts. It stood historical convention on its head. And it was this unique shift that I hoped might mobilize a nation, if I could only mobilize a boardroom first.
    I spoke for about ten minutes as I walked through my slides.There was a beginning, a middle, and an end to the presentation, and I seldom found myself reaching for words after the first slide or so. Out of the corner of my eye, I’d seen both Diane and even Amanda nodding with approval, or perhaps with early-onset Parkinson’s. When I actually lifted my eyes to look at Amanda, she immediately stopped nodding and gave me a look that seemed to say “Wrap it up, pal, time’s a-wasting.”
    “So coupled with the comprehensive earned