Page 1 of Selfish Suit

THE CEO

DOMINIC

The worst part about running a billion-dollar marketing empire is the fact that you have to sit through an endless session of stupid ideas before reaching an average one. The “brilliant” kind are one in a million, and most of the time, you’re left wondering why the hell you ever got into marketing in the first place.

I’ve always prided myself on being able to market anything, and after seeing so much success, I decided to give back. But sitting through days of terrible presentations makes me want to never do anything charitable in my life again.

“Now that I’ve introduced myself,” the man standing at the front of my boardroom says, “allow me to show you a product that’s about to revolutionize the car industry…”

He pulls a white sheet from a box, revealing… a tire wrapped in bright blue fabric.

“Behold, ladies and gentlemen,” he says. “Tire Toes! I.e., ways to make the tires on your luxury cars feel safe, secure, and cared for.”

Jesus Christ…

“Before you say it, we know that ‘tire socks’ already exist, but those are for cars in inclement weather, and they serve an entirely different purpose. These are for style, for class, for showing the world that you take your luxury car seriously.”

I glance at my partner—Braxton. I’m waiting for him to meet my eyes so I can give him the “Get them the hell out of here” signal, but he has the audacity to look intrigued about this bullshit.

“How do they hold up in rain?” he asks.

“Very well so far,” the guy responds. “The ten customers we’ve had so far haven’t had any complaints.”

“You only have ten customers?” I sit up. “How the hell did you get this meeting?”

“Tenvery happycustomers,” he counters. “They paid two thousand dollars each for these, so I’d say that’s quite impressive.”

“What exactly do the Tire Toes do?” I ask. “What is their actual purpose?”

“They’re for style and making the tire—which is always left out in the car bragging process—feel good.”

“So, the tires on our cars have feelings?”

“Shhh.” Braxton finally looks over at me. “Let them finish, Dominic. I’m really enjoying this.”

I’m sure.

I mentally check out as the guy drones on. I have six more of these to sit through, and I’m already over it.

Sliding my phone from my pocket, I scroll through my email under the table.

At this rate, there’s no way I’ll have time to step out for dinner between the final pitch and a late-night Zoom with a London client.

As I’m debating where I can possibly go for food, Braxton claps his hands—making me look up.

We’re now alone in the boardroom.

All the Tire Toes have rolled out.

“You know,” he says, “the next time you have the audacity to ask why everyone calls you a selfish asshole, look no further than this meeting.”

“We need to fire whoever let them onto our schedule,” I say. “Did you let them down nicely?”

“I offered ten thousand for their enthusiasm but said we wouldn’t be able to invest.”

“I’m sorry, how much?”

“You spend that on a tie.” He shrugs. “Look at it as a fine for being rude as hell. You didn’t even get up to shake their hands, not even after they left us with a complimentary set of tire socks.”

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