The Labyrinth Campaign (5 page)

T
he group was seated around Will Hawkins’s office conference table in a posh office tower in Dallas. It wasn’t the trendiest office address in Dallas, but Will’s 2,000-square-foot office on the forty-first floor had to be one of the most stunning anywhere. The room featured a natural wood interior coupled with custom-made furniture that was somewhere between Ralph Lauren and Ethan Allen, which made it a very comfortable workspace with a view looking out over the Crescent and onto Highland Park and North Dallas. The conference table seated twelve and was as rustic as they come. It had once served as the mess table for the 10th Mountain Division that trained near Vail, Colorado, during World War II.

The conference table was half full. John Rollins and Pete Robinson, Will’s key advisers, were among the attendees. The task of the day was to finalize the framework of Will Hawkins’s campaign strategy. The opinions varied, but it was clear that Will was in control. They all felt that they were making progress when Stephanie Wood, Will’s Dallas-based administrative assistant of more than ten years, politely knocked on the door. She discreetly motioned to Will that she needed to see him in her own spacious, well-decorated outer office.

When Will strode through the door, Stephanie said, “David Ellis is on hold for you. I thought you would want to take the call.”

Stephanie made it her business to know what calls Mr. Hawkins would want to take and which ones she would politely take a message for. As usual, her instincts were dead on; Will looked stunned.

He returned to his office and dismissed the entire strategic team. “I’ve got a very important call I must take. Let’s reconvene after lunch. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

As the group left the office, John Rollins eyed Will suspiciously. Will winked at Rollins, trying to put his mind at ease. When the group was gone and the office door shut behind them, Will picked up the phone.

“Mr. Ellis, what an unexpected surprise.”

“Cut the bull, Senator Hawkins. You knew I would call.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, sir, but I don’t appreciate being spoken to in that tone of voice.”

“I apologize, Senator, but I don’t appreciate being patronized, either.”

“Fair enough, Mr. Ellis. Let’s start over. What can I do for you?”

“I believe,” responded Ellis, “it’s what we can do for each other.”

“Really,” Will sighed noncommittally. “And what might that be?”

“I’m calling to suggest an alliance,” Ellis stated. “A mutually beneficial one. I don’t for a minute want you to believe that I like your politics or your style. But we do have a common enemy in the president.”

“Enemy is a strong word, Mr. Ellis. I prefer opponent,” Will said.

“Very well, opponent. But the point is, President Hughes is destroying our country. His lack of economic vision, his lax ecological policies, his reduction of funding for the war on drugs … it’s slowly and relentlessly bringing us down.”

“I agree,” Will said, “but what does that have to do with you and me?”

“Well,” David responded, “in a nutshell, I pledge the foundation’s support to your campaign, and in return you commit to real economic and ecological change, a return to a full-scale war on drugs, and, oh—a post for me in your cabinet.”

“Well, Mr. Ellis, the commitment to real change is an easy one. That has been my platform for the past eight years. In fact, I’ve always believed
your foundation was guilty of a little plagiarism, if you want to know the truth. But the cabinet post is a little tougher. I’ll have to visit with my advisers on that subject.”

“The choice is yours, Senator,” David said. “I’d just hate to have to pledge our support in a different direction.”

As they exchanged goodbyes, both men were very pleased with themselves. Will couldn’t believe the good luck that had just graced his luxurious office; David knew he had just reeled in the biggest fish of his career.

I
t was a beautiful October morning in Dallas, as each morning had been for the past three weeks. Jack McCarthy was on his third cup of coffee as the sun began to rise. Today was the day. At 10:00 sharp, the GenSquare new-business pitch would begin. It was the most important day of business in Jack’s illustrious career and also the most important day in the history of WPC.

As Jack strolled down the long, richly paneled executive hall toward the boardroom, the butterflies he felt before any big presentation began to assemble in his stomach. Jack smiled, remembering what Allen Hamilton had said about prepresentation jitters. “Everyone gets butterflies,” Allen had told him. “The question is whether you can get them to fly in formation.”

Jack knew that a stellar performance today was a lock. He’d practiced his presentation hundreds of times. The agency had spared no expense in getting the team ready. They were as prepared today as they would ever be.

Jack entered the boardroom and was once again awed by the magnitude and thoroughness of WPC’s organization for today’s presentation. The entire room had been converted into an interactive extravaganza; it looked like an Apple store, featuring every new product they had to
offer. Each piece of technical hardware had been wirelessly connected to the GenSquare software product. The entire WPC presentation could be viewed on individual monitors by the attendees sitting around the boardroom table. The walls of the boardroom were adorned with oversized copies of the best print work the agency had ever produced. And the TV reel WPC’s creative team had assembled would be the envy of every other agency in the country. WPC was ready. Jack was ready. Only two more hours until showtime.

Jack was seated at the end of the boardroom table as his colleagues arrived. One by one, the best and brightest the agency had to offer took their seats around the table. Allen Hamilton was the last to arrive. He walked to the front of the room. All eyes were upon him. It seemed like an eternity before he began to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the day we’ve all been waiting for. This is the moment in time that will define who we are for the rest of our careers. I am proud of how well we’ve prepared. But all of this hard work will mean nothing if we don’t get the business. So, don’t sit around the table and gloat about the great product we’ve created. Bear down. Concentrate. Execute. It’s first and goal at the one-yard line. But we don’t win if we don’t score. Each and every one of you will play a key role in whether we succeed or fail. Do your job. Do it like we practiced. Let’s bring home the trophy.”

As Jack listened to Allen, he realized this was a special moment; he was listening to the best Knute Rockne speech anyone at WPC had ever heard. And as he looked around the table, he knew they were going to win. He saw the fire in the eyes of his colleagues. Winning was the only option.

“Everybody take a deep breath,” Allen said as he concluded. “I want you to relax as much as you can. We’re an hour away from the presentation; your brains need some down time, and your bodies need some fuel. I have a light brunch set up in my conference room. Get something to eat. Try to talk about something other than GenSquare. Be back here at 9:45 sharp.” The GenSquare team filed out of the boardroom and left Allen alone with his thoughts.

At 10:03 the elevator doors of WPC opened, and the GenSquare contingent stepped into the lobby. The group was led by Bo Hawkins, followed closely by Will Hawkins and three other members of GenSquare leadership. They were taken to the boardroom, where the WPC team had been waiting for nearly twenty minutes. The introductions were brief and slightly strained. It was apparent that the GenSquare team had decided in advance to avoid any prolonged small talk.

Allen Hamilton began the presentation. He talked about WPC as comfortably as he would his own family. He touched on capabilities. He described the biographies of his colleagues around the table. It never ceased to amaze Jack just how simple Allen made it look. Allen ended his introduction with WPC’s Texas heritage. It was obvious that this struck a chord with Bo Hawkins and his Texas wildcatter mentality.

Next, Scott Parks presented the agency’s research findings, along with the corresponding product positioning and creative strategy. The GenSquare people appeared to be impressed. Then came Sharon Campbell, who presented the digital approach and media plan. Again, this portion of the presentation was greeted with approving nods, although Bo Hawkins didn’t appear to agree with the spending levels proposed.

Following the media portion of the presentation, Dana Howard, one of the most notable creative talents in the US, outlined WPC’s concept for the GenSquare creative campaign. While she was very polished and entertaining, Allen and Jack exchanged looks, because it was evident that the GenSquare people around the table were not reacting as positively as they had been to the previous segments of the presentation. When Dana sat down, Allen gave Jack the “time to save the day” look.

Jack began by summarizing the presentation. He outlined the strength of WPC’s research, positioning, media, and creative presentations. Jack paused to lend emphasis to what he planned to say next. “But despite all we’ve shown you so far, we know that may not be enough to win your business.”

Allen grimaced as Jack continued. “We know you’ve been meeting with some of the best agencies in the country. We’re humble enough to acknowledge that you’re probably looking for that little extra
something.” Again Jack paused. “We believe we have it. And it comes in two packages.”

Allen was now clearly nervous. He knew that Jack planned to unveil the proposed WPC compensation structure, but what else did he have up his sleeve? Jack spotted Allen’s uneasiness but plunged ahead.

“Our first tiebreaker is financial in nature. GenSquare is a startup company. While it has the power of the Hawkins family behind it, it still has financial goals to meet. And with the significant marketing costs associated with competing in this category, we believe we should share in the financial burden of getting started. So our proposal is quite simple: We don’t make money until you do. We’ve created a fee arrangement that covers our costs to service your business, but our profit only starts when yours does. We would also propose a bonus clause that allows us to recapture previously lost profits once GenSquare achieves the fair share of profits we all know it will.”

Jack’s comments were met with silence, but the look on Bo Hawkins’s face told him that he had made a positive impact.

Now it was time for Jack to unveil the second tiebreaker idea. He knew he was living on the edge, especially with Allen Hamilton. But to win big, Jack had always believed you had to take risks. So he launched in. “We’ve also been thinking about Senator Hawkins’s campaign.”

Allen winced, not knowing what was coming next.

“It appears to us,” Jack said, “that while the Democratic nomination is a lock, it will be a pretty tight race with President Hughes.”

With that, Allen Hamilton interrupted. “Mr. Hawkins,” Allen addressed Bo, “when Jack references us, he actually means him. We at WPC have obviously discussed Senator Hawkins’s campaign but have never arrived at an agency point of view. So I would like to suggest—”

Bo Hawkins raised his hand for silence and said, “Let the young man speak.”

Allen fell back in his chair.

“As I was about to say,” Jack continued, “Senator Hawkins’s platform addresses so many of the concerns raised by today’s Americans: economy, ecology, drugs. People are concerned about their children’s future, their
country’s future. Then it dawned on me: The Hawkins platform of the last eight years, and the reason I’m personally passionate about the campaign, has shocking similarities to the platform of the grassroots organization The Future State Foundation. I suggest—and I won’t say ‘we,’ Allen—that the Hawkins campaign and the foundation form an alliance. It gives you access to an up-and-down-the-street organization that can help you campaign. It gives them a viable presidential candidate who’s passionate about their issues.” As Jack paused, Bo Hawkins interrupted.

“Young man, you are obviously passionate about your business and your politics. I hate to cut you short, but our time is tight, and I’ve got an afternoon schedule to keep. So Allen, if you wouldn’t mind giving us a few minutes?”

“Certainly, Mr. Hawkins,” Allen responded.

The WPC team filed out of the boardroom.

When they were clearly out of earshot of the boardroom, Allen turned to Jack and said, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? We had Hawkins with the compensation deal, and then you go off the reservation and ad lib your own political viewpoints. If we lose this account, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

The rest of the WPC team refused to make eye contact with either Jack or Allen, with the exception of Carrie, who was looking at Jack the way a mother looks at a sick child. The silence was deafening. The WPC team was stunned by Jack’s actions and Allen’s reaction. The next five minutes seemed like an eternity, and no one said a word.

Jack finally spoke up. “Allen, I did what I thought was right. I knew you’d never let me say what I said, so I didn’t ask permission. If we don’t get the account, I’ll resign. If we get it, you owe me a big fucking apology.”

That statement shocked everyone present. Carrie looked proud of Jack’s response.

All Allen said was, “Deal.”

Just then one of Bo Hawkins’s entourage came out of the boardroom and called the WPC team back in.

Once everyone was settled, Bo Hawkins addressed Hamilton. “Allen, your presentation was fantastic. The efforts behind your recommendations were very apparent. Your compensation proposal was innovative and compelling. And Jack McCarthy’s political instincts are uncanny.

“Allen, I have a proposal for you. GenSquare believes you are the agency partner for us. As of this moment we are awarding you the account. Additionally, while your compensation package is intriguing, we are not interested in your proposed arrangement. We don’t want anything getting in the way of your commitment to our business, so we would prefer to pay you under a more typical arrangement. But I do have one favor to ask.”