One morning, I walked through the Old Mutual marketing floor on the way to my desk, sensing a shift in the atmospheric pressure. As I moved past the cubicles, I noticed a series of amused, knowing smiles from colleagues, as if the entire floor was in on a secret I hadn't been invited to.
I wondered if I was imagining things until I passed David from Agency Marketing. He gave me a supportive nod and a wink.
"You go, stud," he chirped. "We're all rooting for you."
I reached my desk, confused and increasingly wary. Sitting there, face-up for the world to see, was a thermal-paper fax. It didn't contain a marketing brief or a strategy update. Instead, it was a bold, typed declaration:
"I can't wait to get my hands on you later, you sexy beast."
It was from Ally. In an era before private messaging, she had mistakenly assumed that the office fax machine was a private, direct line to my desk. Instead, it had spent the morning sitting in the communal tray, being enjoyed by every "gregarious" marketer and agency staffer who had wandered by to collect their own documents.
In that single moment, I discovered a profound new psychological state: the ability for immense pride and agonizing embarrassment to coexist in the exact same heartbeat.
I walked in a "high-potential trainee" and left the "Marketing Stud" of the building. It turns out, no matter how hard you work on your professional brand, all it takes is one misplaced fax to permanently rebrand you as a "Sexy Beast."
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