Page 34 of Summer Shot
Raven’s voice speeds up with enthusiasm. “People would bid on the baskets, not knowing which player created them. We could even have some type of prize if someone guesses each basket correctly to the player on the team—it would be difficult but people love to win hard things.”
She drums her finger on her chin, thinking. “There could be an entry fee to guess, maybe some type of raffle to support the charity.” She drums her finger on her chin. “Then people would also bid for the baskets so it’s two-fold, and we could raise even more money.”
My mind races, plotting out the concept. This could be a way to ensure its public facing, and people would be bidding on mystery baskets so technically wouldn’t know which player made which basket. Knowing the players, they would definitely need some support coming up with ideas, but luckily, that’s right in my team’s wheelhouse.
The guessing component as a raffle to raise probably double the amount of money? It’s truly remarkable. It’s evident she’s damn good at charity events.
“Great example! I have one final question for you,” I tell Raven, my voice dripping with eagerness. Our interview has already gone over the hour I had planned, but I’m determined to hear more of her ideas around games. “Can you give me an example of a social media post or campaign you would create prior to game day to grow attendance?”
“Can I ask some questions?” Raven replies, poised and calm under the pressure.
“Of course,” I respond, interested to hear her questions.
“Who are we playing? What day of the week is the game? Do we have any special or unique marketing opportunities for the game?”
Each question she asks is intuitive. Raven puts a lot of detailed thought into every answer she’s given me, except I realize she nevergave detail on why sports marketing. Why is she so aloof about that? Libby or Kat will have to re-ask during her final interview.
“Great questions.” I clasp my hands together. “Assume we are playing one of our main rivals. It’s a Friday game. Any marketing opportunities, swag, whatever you can think of are fair game.”
A bright grin bursts across her face. “Perfect! I would focus on the rivalry and create a campaign around the rivalry. I’d maybe call it the rivalry rampage.” She pauses, thinking for a moment before continuing. “Scratch that I’m not sure what I would call it yet.”
“Let’s assume this opponent is someone we typically win against. Outside the arena, there would be a car with the opponent’s logo on it. The car would be donated from a local junk yard, already beat up but free to save on costs.”
My eyes widen with delight. I like where she is headed.
“People would be able to purchase a ticket. There could even be different tiers. You would place a bet on how much you think we will win by, which would enter them into the rivalry bet,” She giggles. “I’m still workshopping the name. But people could spray paint their bets on the car. We could also hit the car with a hockey stick and charge per hit, but from a safety perspective I’m not sure that would fly,” she whispers the last part to herself.
Thinking for a minute, I finally reply, “I’m not sure of logistics, but let’s just say we can do it for the sake of this hypothetical scenario.” What I don’t add is how it would need to be an expensive stick with a high flex rating . . . The old sticks the hockey department has wouldn’t work and we would not have a budget for endless new sticks.
A sheepish smile spreads across Raven’s face. “In that case, each person can pay for up to five hits, pay per ticket. Half the proceeds go to the charity and the other half goes to the winner, who is determined based on the best they placed. We are winning this hypothetical game.”
Pride fills my eyes, but I need to try to stump her. “I think this would draw a lot of attention. How would you handle people making the samebet? How would the winner be determined if over fifty people had the same exact score for the game?”
Tapping her finger on her chin, she slowly begins, “It’s a raffle, so everyone that guesses correctly would be entered—up to five times, each time you purchase a ticket to hit the car with the hockey stick you get an entry. If you guess correctly, then your tickets go into the raffle.”
Boom. She nailed it, this makes up for her strange response to the hockey question. Before I can ask any follow up questions, she jumps back in.
“There would be posts on social media, email marketing, posters around campus. I would love to do a fake promo video with the guys shirtless and hitting the car. Maybe a different car though.” Excitement dances in Raven’s eyes. “This would be so fun!”
A small, satisfied smile creeps onto my face, I cough trying to keep it from Raven’s view.
“Thank you for putting so much intention into your well-crafted responses. I will be in touch in the next few days regarding next steps. Do you have any more questions for me before we end?” I ask, still trying to hide my smile and remain natural.
“I just wanted to confirm—the next steps are the last round, correct?” Raven inquires, her voice slightly shaky.
“Yes. They will be the final interviews. However, I think they will still be virtual for the sake of time,” I inform her, “I’ll be in touch shortly. Thanks so much for your time.”
“Thank you for the time and consideration, Lauren. Have a great day!” Raven says chirpily, the confidence back in her voice.
“You too,” I reply, exiting the video call.
Something about Raven feels familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.
Chapter seventeen
Laur
Walking into my bedroom, I feel infinitely lighter, like a twenty-pound weight has been lifted off of me. Not only did I get approval from the professor lead of the program to formally shift the in-person interviews to virtual, but Bren’s old room is no longer empty, causing me heartache.
