“In the interim Mr. Kelley informed me what your attitude had been on that first day,” Martin said. “And he told me he had learned that you were here without authorization.”
Jack was about to respond when it became clear that Kelley had come on the line. Martin informed the administrator that he’d again found Dr. Stapleton lurking in the lab.
While Martin listened to an apparent monologue from Kelley, Jack moved over and leaned casually against the nearest countertop. Richard, on the other hand, stood rooted in place, still supporting his tray of throat swabs.
Martin punctuated Kelley’s apparent tirade with a few strategically placed yeses and a final “Yes sir!” at the end of the conversation. As he hung up the phone he treated Jack to a supercilious smile.
“Mr. Kelley told me to inform you,” Martin said haughtily, “that he will be personally calling the mayor’s office, the Commissioner of Health, and your chief. He’ll be lodging a formal complaint concerning your harassment of this hospital while we’ve been making every effort to deal with a state of emergency. He also told me to inform you that our security will be up here in a few moments to escort you off the premises.”
“That’s terribly considerate of him,” Jack said. “But I really don’t need to be shown the way out. In fact, I was on my way when we happened to bump into each other. Good day, gentlemen.”
25
* * *
MONDAY, 3:15 P.M., MARCH 25, 1996
“So there you have it,” Terese said as she looked out on the expanded team of creatives for the National Health account. In the present emergency she and Colleen had pulled key people away from other projects. Right now they needed all the man- and womanpower they could muster to concentrate on the new campaign.
“Any questions?” Terese asked. The entire group was squeezed into Colleen’s office. With no room to sit they were wedged in like sardines, cheek by jowl. Terese had outlined the “no wait” idea in an expanded form that she and Colleen had devised based on Jack’s initial suggestion.
“We only have two days for this?” Alice questioned.
“I’m afraid so,” Terese said. “I might be able to squeeze out another day, but we can’t count on it. We’ve got to go for broke.” There was a murmur of incredulity.
“I know I’m asking a lot,” Terese said. “But the fact of the matter is, as I’ve told you, we were sabotaged by the accounts department. We’ve even got confirmation that they are expecting to present a talking heads spot with one of the ER stars. They are counting on us to self-destruct with the old idea.”
“Actually I think the ‘no wait’ concept is better than the ‘cleanliness’ concept,” Alice said. “The ‘cleanliness’ idea was getting too technical with that asepsis malarkey. People are going to understand ‘no waiting’ much better.”
“There’s also a lot more opportunity for humor,” another voice commented.
“I like it too,” someone else said. “I hate waiting for the gynecologist. By the time I get in there I’m as tense as a banjo wire.”
A wave of tension-relieving laughter rippled through the group.
“That’s the spirit,” Terese said. “Let’s get to work. Let’s show them what we can do when our backs are against the wall.”
People started to leave, eager to get to their drawing boards.
“Hold up!” Terese shouted over the buzz of voices that had erupted. “One other thing. This has to stay quiet. Don’t even tell other creatives unless absolutely necessary. I don’t want accounts to have any inkling of what’s going on. Okay?”
A murmur of agreement arose.
“All right!” Terese yelled. “Get to it!”
The room emptied as if there had been a fire. Terese flopped back into Colleen’s chair, exhausted from the emotional effort of the day. Typical of her life in advertising, she’d started out that morning on a high, then sank to a new low, and was now somewhere in between.
“They’re enthusiastic,” Colleen said. “You made a great presentation. I kind of wish someone from National Health were here.”
“At least it’s a good idea for a campaign,” Terese said. “The question is whether they can put it together enough for a real presentation.”