I sat slowly sipping a cup of steaming hot coffee at the
patio seating of my favorite coffee house clearing my mind. I was meeting a
perspective client in an hour, my nerves a little on edge, which was a good
thing keeping me on my A-game. The thoughts running in my head ranged from the
numbers, facts, and clients we as a studio had been able to attract. There was
also the number of campaigns we had put together. In another part of my mind
was the constant battle to keep at bay the fears, doubts, and securities I had
about my life and life choices.
The caffeine in the coffee hadn’t yet hit me yet, as from
where I was sitting I watched two Asian women walk up to the coffee house
patio. Now, in even another part of my mind, the game was on. The game was to figure
out the nationality of the two Asian women that walked up, maybe a bit racist,
but it was my own personal fetish and I couldn’t help it. I discreetly watched
them settle in placing their essentials they were carrying on the table. They
were both carrying iphones with black cases. One had a Burberry purse she
opened, and I could see she had an old school disposable camera inside.
I took another drink of the still hot coffee. The client I
was to meet was looking to reinvent their company, once a global youthful
brand. Over the years, their sales and audiences took a down turn. We were
asked to come on and reenergize and re-develop the lagging brand.
Korean, I thought in my head, as the phone of one of the
girls went off, catching my attention. They were now set up with a Mac laptop
to the WIFI and were fervently working and messaging on their phones. One was
dressed in a navy floral patterned summer dress with a brown leather braided
belt cinched at her waist, embellished sandals, and black-rimmed coke bottle
cap spectacles. The other seated with her legs crossed, wore a pair of jeans
shorts, a tribal print top that formed to her torso, as she looked into a
purple Land’s End tote bag. Both girls had their raven colored hair tied up in
a bun. I couldn’t make up my mind on where they were from, watching the one in
jean shorts, examining her unpainted toes, and looking up from her phone just
for that moment.
I was just about finished with my coffee feeling good about
the upcoming client meeting. Securing this account would be monumental, and it
would also make us a global production company, more than just a production
studio. Some tried to degrade our success by calling us “Kidults”. We embraced
that and really thought growing up was a trap and we, I, wanted no part of the
“old way” of thinking.
I sipped my coffee down to just about the last drop, intent
in savoring the moments before I turned on the charm and power of persuasion. I
laughed as my mind was now saying “Chinese”, as I overheard the two girls
talking. I couldn’t be sure they were speaking Chinese, but it was another
un-informed guess. The cute red headed barista called out, “Ruth”, and the
Asian girl in the navy dress went up to the counter and grabbed a drink and a
pastry, bringing it back to the table. The two girls split the sweet delicacy.
The caffeine rush was now hitting me, and I was
unconsciously tapping my foot in a nervous pattern. Now was the time to walk
back to the studio and burn off some of the buzz and do the final prep for the
client meeting. I took the last drink of my coffee got up from the table, and
began to walk the three lovely blocks back to the studio, which was a matter of
a few minutes away. I was dressed in a green YSL cashmere knit sweater, Diesel
jeans, black Diesel invasion sneakers, and my special gold Rolex on my left
wrist. I shielded my eyes with a pair of classic Ray Bans, going back on my
previous decision of thinking the two girls were Chinese, thinking now that
they were Japanese.
I began walking at a faster pace, the excitement of pitching
my studio capabilities gave me a bit of a hard on. I checked just to make sure
I wasn’t pitching a noticeable tent on State Street. When out of the crowd of
people ahead of me came a vision of beauty walking toward me. I, to this day, I
don't know what drew my attention, be it the color contrast of her dress
against her terracotta color skin, or the way she glided in and out of the
crowd. She walked, coming ever closer to me closer to me. I’m sure our eyes met
behind shaded lenses, as her head turned with a little hitch bouncing her
blonde locks into the calm breeze kicking up. The closer she got, the more
details I picked up from her. She wore a canary yellow silk Chloe dress, light
blue suede Giuseppe Z heels, and carried a white Hermes vintage leather tote.
She had easily walked into my line of sight, and the closer she got, she walked
into my heart. I thought about stopping her and complementing her on her
gorgeous dress. Yet, if we actually started a conversation, I knew my focus
would be lost for the meeting I was so wrapped up in. I felt like the Universe
was working in my favor, synchronicity to the max, but this would be the cherry
on top.
She kept walking down the sidewalk toward me. It was
inevitable we’d cross paths at this point, but then I got a message on my
phone. Grabbing my iphone from my jean pocket I see that the message was my
assistant Nicole, informing me the client had arrived at the studio. Time I
guess wasn’t on my side in this encounter. She was less than half a block ahead
of me. She moved with power and grace looking like a Jake Davis Test shot. She
was now in front of me. I tipped down my Ray Bans, showing my eyes looking
directly at her as she walked by, mouthing the words DAAAMMN! She saw me, I was
sure, but she kept walking. I turned and watched her walk off admiring the
switch in her walk; it was everything I expected it to be.
I pulled my thoughts together, walking into the studio
greeted by Nicole holding the portfolio I had set up for the client. I began
walking to the conference room and Nicole informed me the client had stepped
out to take a call. I was more than ready, and with time now on my side, I sat
at the conference table briefly looking over my notes in the portfolio like the
waning moments before a final exam. Nicole came back into the room followed by
a middle-aged man in a grey suit and then with another man maybe a bit younger,
in a navy pinstriped suit. I wondered who these two men were, since I was
expecting a middle aged woman with a Hillary Clinton pant suit or some kind of
dress to make her look younger. I shook the hands of the two men introducing
myself and finally asking, “So where is Mrs. Arguello?” The man in the
pinstriped suit, who introduced himself as a lawyer, corrected me by saying,
“You mean Ms. Arguello/” I looked at Nicole and then at the portfolio in front
of me. Everything we had was Mrs. Arguello; did we make a mistake right off the
bat?
So I went with it. “So where is Ms. Arguello?” The man in
the grey suit who introduced himself as an accountant, chimed in, “She should
be back shortly. She went for a cup of coffee.” Both men explained that Ms.
Arguello is a fan of the coffee house down the street and that where they were
from, they had to import, it and seeing it a real brick and mortar shop, she
couldn’t resist. I told the men I loved the place as well and that I was just
there, a funny thing. I looked the two men over sizing them up a little, the
only mishap thus far the Mrs. or Ms. Arguello, which got me really thinking
about who this lady was. And then she walked in a cup of coffee to go and a
pouch of coffee beans in her hand. It was the woman passed on my way here. I
was stunned. With my jaw slack, I managed to stand, as she put the pouch of beans
on the table. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. I reached out to shake her elegant
hand. She winked at me and mouthed the words DAAAMMN! We then sat down, and she
sat directly in front of me without breaking eye contact, synchronicity was on
time.
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