Jillian Chantal

This week the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt die. I’m working on the last short story in the book I am going to release in the fall.

Check out the other tales here.

When I arrived at the meeting room for the conference with my clients, Lacey and Miguel were both there as well.

It was do or die time. I didn’t really expect the rest of the audience but I’d made presentations to whole boards of directors in the past who looked at me as if I didn’t belong in their men’s only enclave so this shouldn’t be a problem. After all, I’d had ice cream with Miguel and a tour of the milking facilities with Lacey. Their grandparents had also been kind since I arrived so this should be fine. Right.

I opened my laptop and turned it toward the screen that had been placed at the end of the table. As I started the PowerPoint, I took a deep breath.

“This first couple of screens might be a problem as I prepared them before my tour of the milking area. We can adjust the idea as necessary.”

The picture I had on screen two was of a milkmaid sitting on a stool with a pail under a cow’s udders and the maid’s hands on one as milk squirted out.

The nervous sounding laughter around the table caused me some distress. I feared they’d toss me out before I could fully explain so I started talking fast.

“My thought is to use what you have already on hand as resources to attract more business.”

“And how does milking a cow do that?” Miguel asked.

“Since we’re so close to New York City, there are a number of people who have never had a countryside experience. They haven’t had a chance to get up close and personal with cows or other livestock.” I laughed. “Like me for example. I had no idea cows were so full of personality until that one came up to me yesterday and licked my phone. She also liked it when I patted her nose and side. I had no clue these creatures were so gentle and loving.”

“But how does that attract the kind of clientele we want? We’re trying to be a conference center that attracts conventions. Did you not understand the request? It doesn’t seem so.” Mr. Matthews sat back with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

Oh boy. He was going to be a hard sell. “Yes, sir, I understood. If you’d please give me a chance to explain all my ideas, I think you’ll be pleased.” My gut was tied in knots as he stared at me like I was a three-headed hydra.

In a moment, he gave a slight nod. “Five minutes. Then you’re gone if you haven’t shown me something I can use.”