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  • Offensive blue eyes amid a tangle of lashes.
    Pouty pink-cornered smile, sharp incisor, he dials and glides, a figure of 8 foam stir.
    The morning: a sync-up, Top of Minds explored, a compelling event behind each update, each catch-up.
    Please can you advise?
    Are all ducks in a row?

    The hair line crawling back, a spherical absence amongst the waxed remains.
    Opens wide his face, twists a quick rubiks of sales patter, objection handle me, for peace of mind, many thanks in advance, and kind regards to the yellow-pitted middle-management at Somewhere-in-Bracknell.

    Drop the sales rope- "this may not be the right fit for you…" compliment their due diligence, praise their goal of informed decision.
    Comparing apples to apples to speeds to feeds for like for like for like for like for surface level mulch, inaccurate headlines of his weekend strewn across the office. Fashion at the copier, smut in the toilets.

    Reach out to me
    Thanks for touching base
    Quick one for you-

    Before Friday comes, and he wears a casual dark, hard and pressed Jean with a "weekend" shirt, lanyard rests against pigeon chest.
    What is his exit strategy?

    His best of breed wife, tired with fulfilment issues, the empty brand, expanding bandwidth, lack of family ROI, she no longer eats her own dogfood.
    Alone in the garage office, rugby frames and cups aloft, his hand shakes towards conferencing tools, granular, holistic, the dusty forecast silences benchmark his lack of value-add.

    What will he bring to the table, when his wink has slowed to the wince of a drunk man, he has ceased to leverage a win-win, and his vision of a Tokyo glass high-rise is just a ballpark figure.
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