Agency

In Which the New Managing Director Arrives

the following Monday

Allegra Mercedes Wood-Crosbie, so named by her parents in the assurance that she would never have need of a down to earth, normal person's name due to the fact that she was born into a quintessentially just-about-upper-class British family with a multi-generational leasehold on a stately (if somewhat damp smelling) Victorian townhome in the royal borough of Kensington, London, United Kingdom, The World.

However, and due ultimately to her having chosen a career in advertising rather than a more suitable one in matrimony, Allegra was now finding herself very far from home indeed and wished madly that she might have been named something average that could have camouflaged her just a tiny bit in her new environment. Alice. Or Jennifer, as every third person her age in North America seemed to be called.

But no such luck. She found herself transferred from the agency's global head office to the heretofore unconsidered reaches of the Commonwealth without the proper name, accent or puffy coat to hide behind.

She tried to look on this transfer as complimentary. London was feeling pressured to consolidate their satellite offices. Globally speaking, it hadn't been a good year for the agency. Belts needed tightening. Deadwood needed chopping. The first prunings would naturally come from the international offshoots. Better them than us, the London office felt. She'd agreed with that until she became "them" with the unexpected receipt of a new assignment.

To her surprise, Allegra had been made Managing Director of Canadian operations. A promotion for her, certainly. She'd been Head of Account Services back home. Managing Director of her own outpost was a big leap up the corporate chain — which, in itself, made her wonder why she and not any of her male peers had been selected for the job. Of course, the promotion came with downsides to explain that. Having to pack one's actual life up into boxes and ship it overseas to a rented condominium selected for you by the agency's real estate group, the main attraction of which appearing to be proximity to the office. The fact was, and she knew this, she'd been selected because she met the criteria:

Single

Childless

Ruthless

Her role would be to take the reins on what had for decades been a nearly autonomous arm of the agency; to quickly assess cost-cutting opportunities and implement strict adherence to the newly mandated ways of working. Namely: frugality, austerity, and punchiness. She felt rather like Churchill in the war when she thought about it like that. If she could buttress the Toronto shop against invading forces, it stood a chance of being left open. If she could not, it was probable that the office would simply be closed. So, through that lens, there was every chance — well, some chance at least — that she could parlay the inevitable bloodbath and destruction into something that could reasonably be explained as hopeful.

And that was, in sum total, her plan as she stood in her highest heels, her crispest suit and with her auburn hair in the severest of french twists at the front of the Canadian shop's largest conference room which was called, she noted with a grimace, "Hogtown."

It was 8:01 on a Monday morning. Over the weekend, all staff had been issued a calendar invite for 8 am. She checked her watch impatiently and shook her head at the half-empty seats.

Standing beside her at the front of the room was the full complement of the Canadian office's leadership:

Niall Flannery, Executive Creative Director — transplanted years before from the Dublin office. All charm and good looks with absolutely nothing to say for himself that made any sense to her.

Fraser Smith, Head of Accounts — an actual Canadian. He hadn't embarrassed himself with an 'eh' yet, but she could see in his jokey, man-of-the-people manner that it was only a matter of time.

Samara Lee, Head of Production — American, came from one of the New York competitors. She was brusque, efficient and, Allegra knew from a review of Samara's personnel file, widely complained about as a tyrant.

Denton Horowitz, Head of Creative Tech and Data Science — he'd come to the agency as a co-op student less than five years ago. His meteoric rise to Head was due, more than to any particular leadership quality, to the fact that nobody knew what Creative Tech was, and it appeared that only people under 24 could do it.

These were the people who would report directly to her in her new position. She had met most of them for the first time over the weekend.

"Is a late start typical on Mondays?" she asked her team tersely. "Only we're meant to be starting at 8 am, and it's well past now."

"My people are all present," replied Samara matter-of-factly without so much as an arse-licking smile.

Fraser jumped in. "My guys could be at client meetings. Or on the phone. They like to check in first thing. Client-first, you know how it is. I'll fill them in later. No biggie."

Allegra arched her eyebrows at him, then turned to Denton. "Is your team accounted for?"

"Yes. Yes, both." Denton stated, without making eye contact. "Sissy is third row, fourth seat from the right. Praveen, back row, first on the left. Praveen has a small bladder. He likes to be close to the exits." he added with characteristic specificness.

"Fine," said Allegra. "Niall, I don't suppose you might be able to scare up any of your oversized department this morning?"

"Ah, now Allegra, be fair," he winked at her. "They've been working all weekend. They're just flat out in the team room, asleep like babies and well deserved, so." He cast around for David, who he found parked in the first row as near as possible to the leaders. "David, my son. Go wake the kids. Tell them there's breakfast in here."

David nodded once and stood up, placing his notebook on his seat to save it, then walked briskly out toward the team room to round up the troops.

***

Berry was standing in the hall that ran between Accounts and Creative. He still had his coat on and his sunglasses were pushed up on his forehead. He stood, rooted, listening. He had been about to pop his head in to see how Margot and Martin had gotten on this weekend with the Atrabax work, but he'd been stopped in his tracks by the unexpected sound of Margot's voice. Singing.

He was trying to make it out, but her voice was low, almost under her breath. He didn't want to embarrass her by walking in. Nor did he want to walk away.

"Berry? You should be in the conference room. Everyone's there."

Berry looked up sharply, embarrassed to be caught idling in the hall.

"Oh, David. Right. I was just..." he motioned vaguely at the creative door, paused, then turned toward Hogtown.

David shook his head at Berry's retreating figure and walked into the team room, clapping his hands for attention. All the creatives wore oversized headphones — they worked alongside each other, each engrossed in their individual task, without having to converse or be distracted by the others.

The diaper team was building a research wall at the far end of the room. Margot was refining life-sized drawings of warrioress women while singing along to whatever was playing through her headphones.

Failing to catch their attention, he clapped again, louder this time and gave a little wave of his arms. Finally, everyone turned and took their headphones off, with the exception of Martin, who remained face down on the couch.

"Martin, wake the fuck up," David intoned. "Everyone, conference room, please. Niall is waiting."

***

Overall, Allegra thought, the introduction went well. As Head of Accounts, Fraser had taken the lead in introducing her to those who'd been arsed to show up in the end. Niall had, of course, insisted on blathering on far too long on the theme of new beginnings or some nonsense. The others had stood mute while Allegra made her intentions implicitly clear. She was there to right the ship, increase billings, trim fat, and ensure the future of the agency.

It was all over in less than 30 minutes, at which time the team was pointed in the direction of the pastry and mimosa table that had been set up for the event.

Allegra took note. Food and drink at a morning meeting — and there weren't even clients present to impress. That was the first thing she'd put an end to.