I was in Rockville, Maryland this morning. For a client presentation. I hate client presentations. For someone who wanted to do comedy for a living, I really hate speaking in front of people. My hands get clammy, my armpits get soaked and, at some point, I’ll get the runs.
They usually go well. Not the runs. The client presentations. This one did, at least. Client loved everything we showed. “I loved everything!” were his exact words. After the presentation, I snagged an Uber and headed towards Dulles Airport.
At the gate, I bought a bacon cheeseburger as a reward. I used my corporate card so that I could expense it later.
That’s the best thing about client presentations. Free food.
The worst thing is preparing. That’s the biggest reason I hate client presentations.
The client presentation went well. But it only went well because I spent hours rehearsing what I was going to say. It’s the only way I don’t have a mental breakdown during client meetings. Practice.
I woke up at 5:45AM to run through the presentation a few times. Made some hotel room coffee, ate a Clif bar and opened up the PDF. Then I started rehearsing.
“The creative idea came from an insight which stemmed from a fact.”
I stood in front of the mirror and worked on my hand gestures. Too slow and they’ll think you’re stupid. Too fast and they’ll think you’re on coke.
“We want to start by launching the mission with content communicating the brand message in a new way.”
I practiced making eye contact. Meet someone’s gaze, maintain for a few seconds, then move on to the next person. Let them know you’re warm and affectionate. Like a toaster oven.
“In the same style we use for the visual campaign-“
“Mmm… Mmm… Mmmmm…”
I stopped and looked around. It sounded like someone was listening to porn in the other room. I waited a few seconds. Silence. I cleared my throat and resumed presenting.
“It’s essentially a partnership in which a notification appears whenever you-“
“Ohhhh, baby.”
I stopped again. Silence. After a few more seconds, I kept going.
“We want to leverage this behavior and-“
“Oh, baby, don’t stop.”
“-tap into local influencers so that-“
“Keep going, keep going!”
“-we create buzz through their engagements and-“
“Yes. Yes!”
“-partner with major broadcasters for mass reach and awareness-“
“OH! OH GOD! I’M THERE! OH GOD!”
I stopped rehearsing and slammed my computer shut. The people in the room next to me were vigorously fucking at 7AM. The woman’s moans legit sounded like porn. I decided to do some other work until they finished.
At 8:45AM, there was a loud, prolonged grunt (it sounded like “HRRNGGGHNNrrghghhghg”) and then the moaning stopped. I opened up my laptop so that I could start rehearsing again.
“You liked that?” her partner asked.
“I loved that,” she moaned.
“Ok, my turn,” said a third voice. “We only have two more hours.”
At that point, I walked out of my room and went to the fitness center.
On the treadmill, I started thinking about the woman and her moans. It honestly sounded like somebody was watching Rectum Wreckers 4. As I walked along at 3.3 MPH, I wondered if she practiced.
Did she stand in front of the mirror and rehearse her moans? Did she try out different facial expressions to see what her clients would like? Did she think about what was going through their minds as they engaged in coitus?
What if she suffered from the same debilitating stage fright I did? Did she get the runs before performing? Do you think she had to mentally prepare herself for hours before her client presentation?
“The implications allow us to engage consumers in new and impactful ways,” I muttered to myself.
After an hour on the treadmill, I went back to my room.
“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” came her moans from the other side of the wall. Each “Yeah!” identical to the one that preceded it.
I sighed and opened up my laptop. There were a dozen new emails, so I wrote quick replies and then went back to practicing.
“These visuals could be used as social, OLA, print or even outdoor depending on the media available.”
“Oh, baby! Oh, baby!”
As I continued rehearsing to the sweet sounds of lovers in a passionate embrace, I thought about something an old creative director once said to me.
I was complaining about the amount of assignments we had been put on. My partners and I were spread thin. We had to stay late and even came in the past two weekends just to keep up with the amount of work there was. He laughed, took a sip of wine and said
“The prettiest whores get fucked the most.”
“Mmm…”
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