Sunday, 1 July 2012

Thrifty Shades of Grey: Three More Shades More Grey - This Time it’s Greyer-er

I arrive at the big corporate building and step into the reception.  The blonde behind the desk looks me over as if I’m something she has wiped off her shoe, which looks like a Jimmy Choo stiletto - pricey, but then you would expect to pay more for the kind of high quality product that Jimmy Choo makes.
“May I help you?” she says, in a clipped voice that suggests she is judging me for wearing jeans, sneakers and a t-shirt, the kind you’d buy from the GAP - great quality clothes at reasonable prices.  What can I say?  I’m just a girl with simple tastes and simple pleasures, like curling up in front of the fire with a good book, usually bought from Amazon because it’s so easy to shop on that website, literally just *click* And You’re Done.
“I’m here to speak to Mr Grey.”  The receptionist smiles from behind the shiny black reception desk.  I notice that they use Apple Mac computers, and I go to ask her about it but then Think Different.
“Oh, you want the building across the road,” she says, her lips covered in what looks like Rimmel lipstick, presumably she wanted to Get The London Look. “Mr Grey has had to downsize since the whole…you know, scandal about his personal life.”  Of course I remember it, I wrote the article.
“Okay, thanks,” I say, turning to leave but then stopping to ask her something, “listen, I was just wondering, where did you get your top from?  It’s gorgeous.”
“Oh thank you!”  She lightens up, and smiles again. “I bought it from Marks & Spencer.  This is not just a cashmere cardigan; it’s a hand woven cashmere cardigan with pearlesque buttons sewn on in Nepal.  The quality is unbeatable and the price was very reasonable.  There are many branches located all across in the UK.”  But obviously, this story is set in America but that’s okay because fortunately Marks & Spencer offer a competitive rate on international delivery.
“Well, I love Your M&S top.”  I exit the building and cross the road to the shabby, run-down building with the sign “Grey Enterprises” over a door with peeling paint and a rusted handle. I think to myself that he could probably get a good deal on some door handles from B&Q.

I don’t bother with the doorbell and just go straight in.  Christian’s office is slightly off to the left and has no door,  and the reception desk is straight ahead.  I notice that his receptionist is eating a box of Kripsy Kreme doughnuts, and she offers me one without saying a word.  I skipped lunch, so I accept the doughnut and take a bite.  The fluffy, light texture and sweet delicious taste make it an exciting eating event, available at restaurants across the country.  With the powdered sugar still on my lips, I head into Christian’s office, where he is sat with his head down on the desk. 
“Hey babe,” I say, “What’s up?”  He looks up from his desk, his cheeks still damp from the tears and his eyes red from…well, the tears.
“What’s up?  Is that all you have to say for yourself?  You cost me my livelihood, Ana.  You cost me $15 million.  How am I going to make it back?”
“Oh come on,” I say, starting to take my top off, “let me cheer you up.” I climb onto his desk and reach for his tie - the grey one - but the desk collapses beneath me.
“Goddamn it, Anastasia, your body disgusts me!” He breathes heavily, and puts his head in his hands again. “You… you haven’t stopped eating since I went bankrupt… you’ve doubled in size and it…it sickens me.”
“Whoa, bit harsh, Christian.” I brush my hair away from my face as I stand up, having washed my hair earlier in the morning with L’Oréal shampoo, Because [I’m] Worth It.
“Sorry, but it’s true.  You ruined me, and now you’re ruining yourself.  I may beat the shit out of you on occasion but that doesn’t mean I want you to hurt yourself.” Oh wow. He’s so deep and thoughtful.  I brush away the dust and debris of the table and floor from my jeans, and notice that yes, my body has become somewhat bloated through my increased eating habits.  I spend a lot of time eating in various restaurants around the city.  I’ve recently indulged in a lot of McDonalds meals, and I must say, I’m Lovin’ It, but not as much as KFC - Sooo Good!  Burger King is another favourite, because they let you Have It Your Way, but sometimes it's nice to Eat Fresh, so I occasionally go for a Subway sandwich.
“Well Christian, I know you’re feeling down, but I’ve thought of a way we can make your money back.”
“Anastasia, you’re stupid enough to hang around with me even though I beat you senseless as a means of sexual gratification.  What makes you think I’m going to listen to your business proposal?”  He’s so rude to me sometimes, but only because he loves me.
“Just hear me out, Christian.  One word: Sponsorship.”
He looks at me like I’m an idiot but also like I’m a genius - the kind of genius formed by daily use of brain exercises such as those on the Nintendo DS game, Dr Kawashima’s Brain Training, available at all good game retailers nationwide. 
“That’s brilliant Anastasia,” he says, “but sponsorship for what?”
“Oh, Christian,” I smile, taking the lid off of my Parker pen (maker of fine writing instruments), “you just leave that to me.”


  1. Stieg Larsson would be proud. I can see the movie already.

  2. My marketing strategy simply HAS to pay off.