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Chapter 87: Laughing Till the End
🕑 Added 2024-11-23 09:14:23 +0000 UTCThe upheaval in New York's advertising industry over the past month has been more dramatic than the entire previous year.
First, Supreme Creative burst onto the scene, snatching numerous projects from major advertising agencies like Ogilvy and IPG.
Next, the two presidents of Hengmei Advertising went from covert rivalry to open confrontation, using performance as a wager to vie for control of the company.
Finally, IPG's attempt to steal clients backfired spectacularly. They managed to snatch only two of Hengmei Advertising's clients but subsequently lost a slew of premium clients to Supreme Creative, Hengmei, Ogilvy, and other companies.
This created a domino effect. The collective attack on IPG by various firms prompted even more large agencies to join in. As a result, many small to medium-sized agencies saw their clients poached, profits plummeted, and some even closed their doors permanently.
For the past month, everyone in the advertising industry watched as chaos erupted. Companies tore into IPG like vultures, relentlessly carving away at its flesh.
Even though Sigg's tried to mitigate the damage by signing many small to medium-sized clients, it couldn't mask the company's fatigue.
Moreover, more clients meant more manpower. IPG was forced to hire a large number of new employees, who quickly formed cliques and clashed with older staff, creating a toxic work environment.
Coupled with Sigg's relentless focus on performance metrics, internal instability grew worse.
Then, something unexpected happened: a client sued IPG, accusing them of signing an advertising contract with his company only to turn around and sign a similar deal with his competitor, tweaking his slogans and giving them to the rival.
The client presented a wealth of evidence in court, leaving no doubt about the plagiarism.
Normally, IPG wouldn't make such a blatant mistake because plagiarism is the cardinal sin in any major advertising agency.
But with the influx of untrained newcomers, and the frantic push for results, someone slipped up. A rookie planner submitted work without proper review, leading to identical ads being released for competing clients.
This lawsuit could have been quickly resolved by IPG's legal team with proper compensation to appease the client and get him to withdraw the case.
However, with every advertising company watching IPG like hawks, news of the lawsuit spread instantly.
Within a day, every major newspaper's front page carried stories about IPG's plagiarism scandal. It was the final straw that broke the camel's back.
In the Supreme Creative office, laughter echoed through the halls.
Jimmy, holding a newspaper, was elated. "Look, Ethan, IPG has publicly apologized, promised to investigate thoroughly, and even fired their creative director and several other senior executives."
"Honestly, I wish they hadn't fired anyone." Ethan shrugged, taking a sip of tea from his newly acquired Chinatown tea set.
"Why's that?" Jimmy asked, puzzled.
Ethan raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Because they're stupid, Jimmy. A pushover like that is hard to come by."
If Sigg's hadn't been so reckless in simultaneously challenging multiple agencies, their vulnerabilities wouldn't have been exposed, and so many clients wouldn't have been poached.
Since the scandal broke, Supreme Creative had acquired two more clients from IPG, both in the food industry.
In terms of numbers, Ogilvy took the lead, poaching seven clients, while Hengmei claimed four.
Supreme Creative's tally wasn't as high, but the quality of their acquisitions was unmatched. Each new client was worth two or three of the others.
This was thanks to Ethan's initial strategy. When prospective clients saw Supreme Creative's portfolio of industry leaders, they naturally trusted the agency more.
Supreme Creative had become the luxury boutique of the advertising world, attracting top-tier clients.
However, this exclusivity also meant inevitable conflicts with other agencies. No company willingly surrenders premium clients, so underhanded tactics were bound to occur in the future.
But that was a problem for another day. For now, Ethan and Jimmy were content to watch IPG's downfall.
Among those watching was Ross, formerly the head of IPG's food department.
Although he had been demoted to a regular planner, this spared him from the board's mass layoffs.
Standing by his desk, coffee cup in hand, Ross smiled as he watched Milton, the man hastily promoted to replace him, packing up his belongings with a sour expression. Under the indifferent gazes of his colleagues, Milton left the office.
He wasn't alone. Sigg's and Figgs followed suit.
Ross felt an immense sense of relief, as if a weight had been lifted. The air in the office seemed fresher, and his workdays brighter.
He stepped onto the company balcony and glanced downward, noticing three figures exiting the building.
One of them looked up and locked eyes with him—it was Sigg's.
Gone was his usual swagger. His disheveled hair and composed demeanor suggested acceptance of his downfall.
After a moment, Sigg's broke the gaze, turned away, and continued walking with his box of belongings.
Behind him, Figgs' stomach growled audibly.
"Don't you ever eat breakfast?" Sigg's asked.
"How could I have an appetite, Sigg's?" Figgs patted his belly. "We're job hunting again. Damn it all."
Sigg's gave his long-time subordinate a complex look, unsure what to say. After a pause, he started walking again. "Let's go get pizza."
Figgs was taken aback. "You hate pizza."
"I still hate it... always will. But to beat your enemy, you have to understand them, right?"
"You're not giving up, are you, Sigg's?" Figgs saw through his former boss immediately.
"Not at all, Figgs." Sigg's stepped firmly, his shoes clicking against the stone steps. "We'll cross paths again, won't we?"
"Cheers!"
"Cheers!"
"Thank you, boss!"
In a luxurious restaurant, Supreme Creative's employees gathered for a celebratory dinner.
The female account managers were dressed in low-cut dresses or evening gowns, while the men wore formal suits—except Ethan.
Ethan despised formal wear in everyday life, opting for a deep brown casual outfit that set him apart.
But no one judged him for it. He was the boss.
He was the one who paid their salaries and had led Supreme Creative to break through the competition in mere months to rank among New York's top agencies.
With such an aura, even if he wore rags, people would assume he was seeking creative inspiration.
The women's admiring and adoring gazes made it clear. Each took turns clinking glasses with him, hoping to exchange a few words—or perhaps something more.
However, much to their disappointment, Ethan remained sober. Apart from a slight blush, he showed no signs of inebriation, his sharp eyes keeping their focus.
Jimmy, on the other hand, was far less resilient, stumbling drunkenly by the end of the night.
In the end, Fernando, who hadn't drunk, offered to drive Jimmy and Liliana home. The other ladies took cabs, while Ethan walked home—his house was nearby.
A cool evening breeze blew as Fernando rolled up the car windows. Watching Liliana support Jimmy into the vehicle, he asked, "Jimmy, where's your place?"
Jimmy mumbled incoherently, so Liliana answered for him. "East 13th Street, sir."
Fernando nodded, stealing a glance at her.
Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at Jimmy's building.
Seeing Liliana's intention to escort Jimmy inside, Fernando asked, "Liliana, do you live nearby?"
Liliana hesitated before nodding. "Yes, I live around here."
"Alright then, sweet dreams." Fernando smiled as Liliana helped Jimmy into the neighborhood and drove away.
"Tap, tap, tap." Ten minutes later, the sound of high heels echoed repeatedly on the wooden floor. Liliana struggled to help Jimmy to the doorway, then took out the keys from his pocket to unlock the door.
Once inside, Jimmy seemed to realize he was home. He waved off Liliana's support and started taking off his clothes on his own.
"Manager… Jimmy… can you hear me?" Lilina placed her handbag on the cabinet and took off her high heels, revealing the back of her feet wrapped in black stockings.
"I can… You're Lilina… I'm not wrong, am I?" Jimmy smiled as he loosened his tie and flung it forcefully toward the coat rack. When the tie looped around the metal rod, he cheered instantly.
"That's right, it's me." Lilina slowly approached Jimmy, reaching out one hand to hold his waist while the other hand pulled down the zipper on her dress.
Swish!
The gown fell to the floor, revealing her fair figure.
She pressed her nose against Jimmy's chest, took a deep breath, and then looked up, acting coquettishly. "Jimmy, do you like me?"
"I do… of course I do." Though Jimmy was drunk, he still retained the sharpness and impulse of a man. When his hands touched the smooth, tender skin of her back, he couldn’t help but embrace Liliana tightly.
The two stumbled toward the second-floor bedroom. Along the stairs were scattered black stockings and white lingerie. By the time Jimmy held her in his arms and fell onto the bed, they were both completely bare.
Just as Lilina straddled Jimmy, ready to take their relationship further, Jimmy suddenly seemed to sober up. He stopped her movements, widened his eyes, and asked, "Is this a one-night stand, or something long-term?"
"What?" Lilina instinctively raised her voice.
"I mean… a one-night stand… or a relationship?" Jimmy struggled to fight the effects of the alcohol and managed to get the words out.
"Why are you asking this?" Lilina was baffled, feeling a bit dazed.
The drunkenness overtook Jimmy again as he collapsed on the bed like a limp shrimp, mumbling softly, "Because I… promised… to…"
