I feel the same about him.
Giving a slight tap on the door, I open it and peek my head in. Carrick Byrne’s office is massive. Large enough to hold an executive desk with guest chairs, a grouping of furniture to sit casually on including a couch, love seat, and two wingback chairs, and a conference room table that can seat eight. The walls are lined with built-in cabinets tastefully filled with books and what I guess are expensive pieces of art. He has a SmartBoard mounted on one wall, which I knew he would have because I had inquired. Most big companies have them in abundance, and I’ll be able to broadcast my entire pitch up on the wall so he can see it clearly and hopefully be impressed with the effort I went to on this campaign.
The man himself is sitting on the edge of his desk—more like leaning with his butt cheek on it, one leg bent and the other planted firmly on the floor—while reading over a document. I have never met Carrick Byrne before, but I’d recognize his face anywhere since he’s Seattle’s richest man as well as its most eligible bachelor.
Admittedly, for a moment, I’m a bit star-struck to be in his presence. His photos and media clips don’t do him justice. If he ever loses all his money, he could make serious bank as a professional model. His face is all chiseled angles that are perfectly aligned, yet don’t come off as soft or too perfect. His dark hair is long on top, short on the sides, and swept back into perfect waves from his face. I’d say he’s got more of a rugged look, especially set off by his thick eyebrows and a golden tan, both of which draw attention to eyes of a very unusual gold color. I’m sure they categorize it as brown on his driver’s license, but they are so light, they could pass for gold.
“Miss Thompson,” he says, lifting his head from the document he’d been reading. He stands from the desk, flashing a genial smile. “I’ve heard a lot of great things about you from Tim Carson.”
I flush because Tim Carson owns the ad agency, and he’s a legend in this business. He’s the type who sits in an ivory tower and is rarely seen. I’m surprised he even knows me because even though I’m up high in the ranks of his ad execs, I’m sure we’re still far below his notice.
“Please, call me Eliana,” I say warmly, crossing the distance to meet him for a handshake. “And thank you for the opportunity to allow us to pitch a campaign for One Bean. I had not realized Byrne Enterprises had moved into the coffee industry, but what better place than Seattle, right?”
He chuckles as he moves over to the conference table, motioning me that way. “Well, this is a business I’ve invested in as a silent partner. It’s owned and run by my colleague, Finley Porter, but I’m helping with the marketing portion. She’d be here today, but it’s her birthday so I’m going solo. And… you can call me Carrick.”
I nod, my smile showing how genuinely impressed I am he’d do that for a small business he’d invested in. I had researched One Bean thoroughly for the past two weeks while making this campaign, and it’s a small, independently owned coffee shop that’s been around for about three decades. It recently changed ownership from the founder to Finley Porter, a young woman who had been the manager there. I’m not quite sure how she got Carrick Byrne to come on as a silent partner, but I hope she knows how lucky she is to have a man of his power in her corner. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s grooming this little business to become a franchise, and that’s sort of where I went with my pitch.
“I just need about two minutes to get set up,” I say as I pull my laptop out of my bag.
“Take your time,” Carrick says. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Water would be great,” I say as I use my own HDMI cable to hook my laptop up to the SmartBoard, which has already been turned on.
I wonder if Ronan did a presentation like this and immediately admonish myself for even wasting brain space thinking about him.
By the time I have my PowerPoint presentation on the board and ready to go, along with a glossy printed portfolio of my presentation to hand to Carrick, he’s back at the table with a chilled bottle of water for me and a cup of coffee for himself.
Settling down into the end chair that faces the SmartBoard, he says, “I’m ready to be wowed.”
“I’m ready to wow,” I assure him, and I launch into my pitch.
For fifteen minutes, I go through my presentation, which includes the background research I’d done on One Bean and research about the coffee shop industry, not only nationwide but locally here in Seattle.
I took the gamble that a man such as Carrick Byrne would be thinking nationally, so my pitch focused on an ad campaign that could easily translate into future franchises across the United States. That meant I leaned away from the stereotypical Seattleite coffee drinker, a regional type of paying customer, and focused my ads on drawing in the average American coffee drinker.
The Starbucks types who were looking for a similar alternative.
I lay out the print campaign ideas, as well as radio and TV options. It was more than what was asked for, and I acknowledged that to Carrick, but I wanted him to be able to take this campaign and stretch it past the boundaries of Seattle if he wanted. I hoped my expansive thinking would put me over the top, as the campaigns I always win the bid on are done in the same fashion. Business owners appreciate the think-outside-the-box type of ideas.
When I finish, I take my bottle of water, allowing myself a tiny sip before I finish with, “Now… tell me what questions you might have.”
In deep contemplation, Carrick sits in his chair, fingers steepled before his face as he stares at the last slide I’d left up… an artist’s rendition of a franchised One Bean in middle-America suburbia.
Lowering his hands, he gives me an appreciative smile before standing from his chair. “That was a very impressive pitch, Eliana.”
“Thank you,” I beam back.
“But it’s not quite what I was hoping for,” he says, moving to stand before me. He tucks his hands in his pockets, and, because he’s so much taller than me, I have to tip my head back. “One Bean is a local icon. It’s a small shop, and Finley is happy keeping it local. Too much of your pitch is to make it a national brand when we want the focus in Seattle.”
“With all due respect,” I say as I bend over my laptop to bring back up slides ten through fourteen. “But in this part of the presentation, I focus on the local market.”
“And I appreciated it,” he says, gaze flicking to the SmartBoard and then back to me. His voice is firm, mind made up. “But Prima focused all of their energy on the one shop here locally, and their pitch better suits our style.”
“But—”
“Again,” Carrick says, cutting in over me and reaching his hand out for me to shake. I take it numbly. “It was a great presentation. I would absolutely love to hear other pitches in the future from you and the fine folks at Carson Dell, but I’m going to give this project to Prima.”
The next five minutes is a bit of a haze. As I pack up my equipment, my stomach churns while I give another lame handshake to Carrick Byrne, mutter my thanks for allowing me to pitch to him, and then somehow, I’m standing out on the sidewalk in front of his building.
The valet looks at me expectantly, remembering my BMW. I shake my head to indicate I’m not ready to collect it and glance down the block.