“Oh, hell!” Carla frantically grabbed for the tissue box. The spilled latte had soaked her keyboard and was heading toward the annual report.

“Ack! Not that!”

The printer had been down all morning and her meeting was in 15 minutes. She was presenting to the Board of Directors. The promotion was so close she could taste it.

Ping

Her computer notified her of an incoming email.

<Subject: Your presentation>

“Damn. If they postpone this meeting again I’m going to scream.”

<<You will want to focus in on the 15-29 year old demographic. It hasn’t been shared yet, but the whole western division is moving to target a younger audience. -A friend >>

She was confused. She looked at the sender’s email address but it just said <<Unknown>>.

Advertising was not for the weak of heart. With the razor thin margins of today’s companies, they were seeking to maximize their advertising dollar. But who would know about her presentation, much less be willing to help? It didn’t compute.

She responded, “Who is this?”

No response.

She opened her deck and made some tweaks to orient it more towards that younger demographic, just in case.

Later, as she walked out of the conference room, she beamed. “That could not have gone any better.”

She was grateful to the mysterious stranger but still wary.

The helpful hints continued to arrive at strategic moments over the next few weeks. Always signed “A friend”. The friend seemed to have a broad and deep knowledge of the company, and their timing was impeccable. She couldn’t imagine who it could be, and no one had stepped forward to take credit. She was grateful for the assistance as she had snagged at least two big accounts using the inside info. She thought it could be either Russell in accounting who flirted with her at the office Christmas party, or Greg, who just made VP and who she’s caught staring at her in meetings. Either way, she decided to not overthink it.

The biennial all-company conference was approaching. Keynote speakers were being chosen in the next two weeks. It was widely understood that those who snagged a spot at the conference were almost always offered a promotion soon afterwards. Carla knew she had been crushing it over the past couple of months and had an excellent shot at a speaker role.

Sure enough, the email arrived mid-August asking her to present her ideas on shifting demographics in American advertising. She was positively giddy. She accepted and immediately set about putting it all together.

After a refreshing summer break in the Hamptons with friends, she came back to the city ready for action. She reviewed and tweaked her PowerPoint deck. She felt confident and prepared.

As she packed for the conference in Chicago, she heard her computer ping in the other room. As she approached the large screen on her desk she could make out a new, short email. She got a little chill when saw it was from A Friend.

<<I just wanted to send you a note of good luck before the big conference. I’m sure you’ve got an amazing presentation prepared. One last note on substance… My sources say that they have a surprise planned. They will unveil a new initiative aimed at a different demographic, based on a recent consultancy report. It’s been kept under wraps, but they plan to target the over 60s in several campaigns. You may want to hit that hard in your presentation and get a leg up on your competition. It’s up to you. I hope the messages I’ve sent have been helpful. Good luck! - A Friend>>

She sat back in her chair and grimaced. What the hell. Who WAS this person and why were they trying to help her? More importantly, should she trust them and change her presentation? It would be tight, but she could do it.

She continued to ponder this throughout her trip to Chicago. She arrived at the iconic Drake Hotel at 8:00pm. As she threw her bags on the bed, she made a final decision. She would do it. She could still keep the data in about youth, but would pivot hard to hit the over 60s. She knew where she could find the information and how she would present it—making it appear she was surfing the front of the next wave.

Her palms were damp as she sat at the head table, waiting to be introduced. She was the first keynote.

The Vice-Chair of the Board stood up to do the honors.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention. Please. As you know, we have been exploring how to expand our customer base and meet evolving challenges in the ad world. To that end, we have been commissioning studies to determine the optimal demographics for us to focus on.”

Carla smiled. She was about to sink her ace in the hole.

“After serious consideration, and excellent presentations from our staff,” he looked at Carla and smiled.

“We are pleased to announce that we are planning to move a significant portion of resources to meet the challenges of tomorrow, and go young!”

Carla’s smile froze.

“That’s right, we’re going to target the under 30s and become the go-to agency for youth.”

Sweat began to form on her upper lip. She was finding it difficult to breathe.

“And we have just the person to kick us off. Carla Pandolfi is here to share her take on this. She wowed us at HQ with her presentation on youth, so get prepared. Over to you Carla!”

With a smile still frozen on her face, she slowly stood up, using the table for support.

Amid the applause, she slowly walked across the dais and scanned the audience. she arrived at the podium and gripped it firmly with two hands.

Then she saw it. In the front row. Two eyes drilling into her, just as they had during so many meetings.

Greg Durbin, new VP and, she just realized, competitor for the COO post. His eyes locked on hers. She felt cold sweats overwhelm her. She had been duped.