Money For Nothing

by Dom Price

  “To not needing my hose for your fire”

  They both resembled a bulldog licking piss off a thistle as the strong spirit mixed with the rest of the booze in their system, but parity had been restored.

  In those moments without words, where the only sound track was the crackle of their combined hilarity, both Dave and Laura had spoken a thousand words. Despite not been considered the smartest cookie in the jar, Laura had ridden the lifestyle roller coaster in her short time, and backed herself with a very high emotional intelligence. In the eternity between her boss talking utter rubbish and her realisation of what was really going on, Laura had deciphered the message that was written all over Dave’s face. She’d been helped by the fact that Dave’s appraisal notes had been sent around to all the other partners in the department and Laura, as a PA, had managed a quick glance at these. Now it all made sense.

  Dave didn’t want pity or forgiveness. He wanted success, and he was frustrated that things weren’t going as planned. ‘Plan, Execute, Measure’ had worked pretty effortlessly so far, so there was some confusion as to why it hadn’t quite delivered this time. Thankfully, the tequila was numbing the pain and Dave’s usual desire to perform a post mortem of events and complete a ‘lessons learnt’ was being delayed by the infusion of 50% alcohol by volume.

  Dave felt heavy and laden with annoyance that his brilliant yet simple plan hadn’t flourished as intended. He looked over to Laura, and she appeared blurred. A quick rub of the face, and Laura was back in focus and to Dave’s amazement she had a massive beaming smile on her face.

  Laura leaned forward and grabbed Dave’s hand. Maybe it had worked. This whole signals malarkey wasn’t hard at all. It had only taken a few drinks, some strong inspiring words and a giggle and she was putty in his hands.

  “I get it Mr Marsdon, don’t worry. Don’t explain. Don’t back track. Don’t justify. I know you don’t think I am all that clever, but I am street wise and I know what is going on here.”

  Her tone was strong and very much to the point, but her smile and openness suggested warmth and empathy. This confused an already dumbfounded Dave even more.

  “I get it you see. I get that you want a woman, and I suppose I should be flattered that you started with me. Well whatever your reason for starting with me, I’ve certainly had a memorable lunch, and I think I’ve drunk more in the last hour than in the last month. But to use a word that you so frequently use yourself, I am not your ‘solution’.”

  Dave looked up to the waiter and merely nodded. The next bottle of wine was on the way, and Dave was warming to the intelligence that Laura was showing. She had been right so far, and Dave wanted to lubricate the engine that was Laura’s brain and see where this could go.

  As the bottle landed on the table, Laura started her own little monologue, and in Dave’s head, he was spuriously taking notes.

  “So if you want a woman Sir” she slurred, believably, “then you need to find one that likes you for you, that you like her for her, and that you can call the one.”

  Dave sat back with his glass in his hand, took a deep breath and began to absorb the impromptu lesson that was about to be delivered. Laura didn’t know his secret and she didn’t need to. She understood the situation and the gentle tirade of advice that followed, gave Dave enough ammunition to try Plan B. Even better, Laura had guzzled so much drink by the end of lunch that Dave was safe that none of their experience would ever be repeated as office gossip. You can’t repeat what you can’t remember.

  The mask was intact, but the mission was still in its infancy.

  ***

  Chapter Putting It Out There

  ***

  “Yeah look, I’ve got a few strategy things to work on this afternoon, so I need you to carry on working on the report and the presentation. I need to focus, so only call me if it’s urgent, OK Karina? Thanks.”

  “That is £24.60 please mate?”

  “Thanks driver. Keep the change.” Dave handed over £25 and felt very good about his generosity.

  There are theorists and then there are practical people. Dave liked to consider himself a man who whilst flattered with theories, made his money putting them into practice and delivering them with an ease that others could only aspire too. That’s not to say that he was the workaholic that many people presumed he was. Dave prided himself on working clever rather than working hard. Admittedly, he’d put in his fair share of hours in the office and running on the constant wheel of the rat race, but he was smart too. There was always an old suit jacket kept in the office that would frequently adorn the back of his chair to suggest that he was only metres away, whilst he was swinging on the golf course. Dave never left his desk without paper work in his hands of some form, so that even the stroll to the office toilet looked like an official meeting of some form. And his powers of delegation and sourcing the competitive graduates to work under his stewardship, all contributed towards providing him with plenty of ‘me time’ which Dave used to get ahead.

  History had consistently proved him right, and whilst many had cabinets filled with trophies, rosettes and team accomplishments, Dave’s success had been in the delivery of his lifestyle strategy. Sitting in his lounge, Dave was deep in thought as he considered the results of the day’s lunch and revealing discussion with Laura. He’d been quick to do two things immediately on his return to the pad to kick start his planning for the next iteration of his personal strategy.

  Firstly, he had to head into the kitchen and make himself a drink with one of his favourite toys. For Dave, an espresso was one of life’s luxuries that he frequently enjoyed and today was no exception. He was hoping that as well as providing some much needed alertness, it might just make him sober enough to get some serious thinking done. Dave took great joy in finessing his coffee from the machine, and the routine of grinding the fresh beans, through to watching the chocolaty dark liquid ooze down into his espresso shot glass to waiting for the last dark drop to leave the machine making its journey towards the glass, with elegance that demanded his utmost concentration. It was one of the few things in life that actually made Dave Marsdon stop and admire, and like every other occasion, he was transfixed by the swirling darkness as his drink settled and prepared itself to be enjoyed.

  Taking a sip, Dave gave himself the gentle reassurance he often required. “Perfection again Mr Marsdon”, smugly leaving the machine for his next task knowing that he’d passed the first challenge with flying colours.

  The second chore was equally important and time pressured. The equation in Dave’s mind was simple yet effective, like all of his plans. Alertness and sobering effect of a few espressos combined with the formalisation of Laura’s advice, overlaid with his requirement to fulfil Big Nick’s challenge, would produce the next iteration of his plan. Dave knew more than anything that keeping the end goal in sight was essential. “Easy!” Alone in the apartment, but buoyed by the caffeine hit.

  It was time for one of Dave’s older investments to pay off. Searching through his drawer of odd’s and sod’s, he armed himself with a colourful selection of white board markers, a set of tools that were as important to any businessman as a monkey wrench to a plumber.

  Dave’s opaque glass fronted built in wardrobe doors had been a lavish expense, and originally were selected for the ambience and clinical finish which they afforded his already luxurious bedroom. But as a man of achievement and efficiency, Dave was a fan of items around the house that held more than one purpose and his wardrobe doors hadn’t escaped that challenge. They doubled as his whiteboard, and Dave was in his element armed with his coloured pens, a blank canvas, a problem and a whole host of ideas that he hoped would eventually culminate in a solution.

  With the 3 glistening canvases in front of him, and with the caffeine oozing through his body, Dave was ready to recall some of the semi-inspirational words that Laura had shared with him only a few drunken hours earlier. However, as a creature of habit and a man of process, Dave knew that all good b
rainstorming sessions need a frame. Each panel of the three framed built in robe had a word written on it, in large bold letters, each door getting a different colour. Dave took an admiring step backwards and smirked to himself. It was all falling into place.

  PLAN, EXECUTE, MEASURE.

  Commencing his storming session, Dave was joyed by the fact that back in the office, his minions’ were still working away and earning him money whilst continuing his striding ascendancy towards promotion. That very thought sent a shock wave through his energised body and reminded him of the challenge at hand and the chink in his armour. All this success right now could be worth nothing without the promotion.

  There was no admitting to weaknesses in Dave’s life. Dave preferred to think about this as a hurdle, a stepping stone and an obstacle that he could manoeuvre. Life was made up of tests, and Dave knew that if he treated this one with the same respect and vigour that he’d approached others, that he would once again be victorious. Big Nick had a reputation of putting people through the mill to test their metal, and Dave was confident that he wouldn’t come up short.

  Focused, Dave racked his brain for every single insight he could produce as his selection of pens danced around the wardrobe door. Breaking only to refill his coffee cup, a now restless and agitated Dave sat back on the bed, admiring his masterpiece.

  It was no Van Gogh. It was a mind map of thoughts, ideas and possible directions. Like a map, it was full of useful information, but lacked the final destination. Dave breathed heavily, with the weight of expectation on his shoulders being added to by the frustration of not being able to solve what should be a simple riddle. Virtually all of his peers at work had girlfriends and they weren’t half as successful as him, so surely it was just a matter of finding one.

  The diagram however showed the extra dimension that was required to solve this problem, and it shot fear through Dave like nothing else could. The doors contained a selection of elaborate plans, and a complicated series of lines and arrows that lead to and from a host of phrases that he’d recalled from lunch with Laura. Some of her words suddenly came back to him as he sat there thumbing his ‘3 year strategy’, avoiding the temptation to rip it to shreds.

  “Love is like life. It’s as simple or as hard as you make it. If it seems too hard, then something is wrong and you should simplify it. If it seems too easy, then you are not doing it right. You have to put yourself out there and be on the cusp of exposure, before you find what you really need.” Laura’s words were echoing around Dave’s head.

  At the time, Dave had attributed much of Laura’s monologue to excessive alcohol intake, but looking at his diagram, it started to make sense. The realisation was slow but effective. Whilst he knew he was vastly intelligent, the world of finding a woman wasn’t about intellect but nous. It was about putting yourself in the shop window of life, and that was something that Dave had accomplished with ease in many facets, but momentarily dropping into a deeper thought, he realised that he’d only put things on the line where he was in control. Where there was a greater chance of winning. Where if he lost, he could blame others. Where victory was solely his doing. And where he could always wear his mask.

  If this was going to work, he had to take it seriously. Dave hadn’t chosen this path, and it annoyed him that someone else, someone who he didn’t respect, appreciate or particularly rate, had the power to force his hand in this way. But that was by the by. He was here and he had to deal with it. In a reaction of fury, he grabbed a tissue off his bed side table and began furiously rubbing at the words that had adorned his wardrobe door for a matter of minutes.

  Saying it out loud, Dave knew that he needed the next gear, but he also felt that sticking in his comfort zone would ultimately help him.

  PLAN, EXECUTE, MEASURE were the only words that survived his ravaged editing process, and grabbing his three horizon woman plan, and with a renewed vigour, he started again.

  Option 1 had been Laura, and whilst there were lots of lessons learnt in the post mortem process, it was important to categorise that for what it was. A failed experiment and a damn good reason to move onto Option 2. Looking back at his plan, Option 2 simply read “play the numbers game”. Using his interpretation of the business model, it required Dave to find a woman from a new source.

  Using the wardrobe doors as a matrix, Dave fleshed out Option 2, and sticking to what he knew, even using some of his favourite business statistics and probability. The bedroom suddenly became a boardroom and Dave was in his element working the floor with panache, pace and precision. Feeling like he was talking to a group of high flying Executives, Dave started by summarising that the objective of this workshop was “identify opportunities for the inclusion of a woman” and that a good outcome from the session would be “a deeper understanding of who, where and how”.

  Dave no longer needed the energy from the caffeine. It was nearing 9pm, but with the pillows ruffled on the bed to represent the important client staff that formed the workshop, Dave relaxed and the information flowed from him like steam from a runners mouth on a cold winters day. Instead of feeling pedestrian and alien in this process, Dave put it in his terms. The workshop was like any of the hundreds that he’d facilitated before, only this time the product was Dave Marsdon, and the market was one he’d never sold to before...women!

  “Right, so let’s think of it this way. In an ideal world, we want the ideal person, but we all know that is a little too farfetched. So let’s work top down. What are we working from in terms of a total sample size and let’s start by narrowing the field down to more suitable candidates”

  Turning to the wardrobe, the pen just magically immersed itself into words and squiggles on the board. Dave was seeking input from the audience, but in almost utopian fashion, he was his audience and for once in his career, every answer from the workshop participants was correct! A few minutes in, the left wardrobe door was decorated.

  Total female population = 4.3billion

  - Those under 18 or over 32 years old

  - Those without necessary qualification (honours degree as a min)

  - Those that are highly religious

  - Those that are not ambitious

  - Those that are too ambitious (must know their place!)

  - Those that are not suitably aesthetically pleasing

  - Those that aren’t within travelling distance

  - Those with facial hair

  = Still lots of women!!

  Extremely happy with the first session, Dave acknowledged the attendants with a knowing nod and appreciative thanks for their input. His criteria was precise without being restrictive. Dave looked over to the mirror and the people pillows.

  “Good work team. We’re making progress. Now, the next phase requires ranking or weighting these, and I like you to use the following categories. There is ‘Essential’, “Nice to Have’ or ‘Could do without’. So any thoughts?” as he opened up the conversation initially to the white pillow but allowing input from anyone.

  “That’s correct” he interjected excitedly in the silence of his bedroom, “they are all ESSENTIAL.” There was no room for compromise here.

  “So doing my sums quickly, whilst we have vastly reduced our target market with some excellent modelling, I fear we still have too large a total market to work with.”

  Up on the wardrobe door, Dave began planning the next phase of his workshop.

  “So team, we’re now going to flip things on their head”, complementing the excited words with hand gestures. “Now we’ll go bottom up. Let’s look at what we’ve got available for our market and try and look at some connections.”

  The board quickly filled up with some superb superlatives to describe Dave. Intelligent, successful, role model, punctual, confident, financially secure, asset rich, attractive, lucrative, flourishing, modest, deserved.

  Dave took a step back and momentarily stood in complete confusion. He realised that without focus, he could quite easily spend an entire lifetime try
ing to understand why someone so appealing, was having to complete such as task.

  Addressing his audience, he allayed their fears with the message of “some things are so good, you don’t think you can achieve them. The irony of the imbalance that such an exceptional product should require any form of marketing is one of those fascinating challenges that keep us all intrigued in business. We only have one Dave available, and so our mission must continue.”

  Turning back to the board, it was now the all important part of this session. To the left, Dave had carefully constructed the criteria for the target market using the top down approach. To the right, the not too humble words that described the Dave product were adorning the door in large bright colours and capital letters. Successful had even been circled 3 times, just for those that might have missed it.

  “So, where the top down and bottom up meet, is commonly called the middle” Dave continued enthusiastically feeling like the finishing post was nearing. “Here we will need to link the left door to the right door. Thoughts?”

  The silence was deafening, as for once Dave didn’t have an answer either. Progress had been made, but what was the link. How did successful, young, attractive men, who were busy and career focused, find these elusive women?

  Was the target market too restrictive? Hardly...Dave’s calculations showed a total possible audience of 250,000 women within 30mins tube ride or drive from his abode, that all fitted the criteria.

  Looking at his descriptive, he was confident that they are all accurate and a very fair reflection of who he was.

  Dave knew. He knew that he had to do it. He hated doing it. He’d not had to do it for years. He prided himself on not doing it. One of the principals of his life was if there was something that he couldn’t do, either by capability or desire, then he outsourced it. Often it made financial sense. The prime example was the ironing of his shirts, which represented an amazing double whammy. The lovely Vietnamese woman at the end of the street did an amazing job on washing and ironing them to a quality superior to that which Dave himself could achieve, but the icing on the cake was that at £2.50 a shirt and 10 shirts per hour, she was far cheaper than Dave was. He could invest the time saved and make a hundred times that. So it made good business sense.