Page 32 of Phishing for Love
Kenzie:I think it’s instinct. Don’t take it personally.
Tess:Promise to retrieve my body before that happens?
Kenzie:Promise.
Tess:Sofia?
Sofia:This is why I don’t have a cat.
Tess:That’s what Kate said.
Sofia:Smart woman, your sister. I’ve always liked her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
At work Tuesday morning, Enya calls an impromptu meeting with all the writers and designers at Amell Greetings. As we take our seats around the conference table, Enya bustles in. Our forty-something editorial manager appears intimidating with her sharp brown eyes and thick black hair cut in a blunt bob, but beneath all that severity lies a zany sense of humor, which is why I get along so well with her.
She takes a seat next to Farah, the senior designer at Amell Greetings.
“Calvin’s not happy,” Enya announces.
We all know what that means. Calvin’s unhappiness will cascade down to everyone in the company.
I exchange a glance with Kenzie. She shrugs. Neither of us have any idea what’s going on.
Apparently, Farah explains, there’s been blowback from one of our Christmas Day card ranges featuring pugs on the cover. Complaints have poured in from vets all around the country, accusing Amell Greetings of promoting animals who are bred to have health problems.
Connor, a staff writer, who also writes poetry and song lyrics in his spare time, says, “Are you kidding me?”
Enya shakes her head. “I wish I was.”
“Is it only pugs?” I ask.
Farah rubs her forehead wearily. “It’s all flat-faced pets, including French bulldogs and Persians.”
“The vets claim the animals have breathing difficulties and a whole host of other problems,” Enya says.
We fall silent. The card business can be tricky. There’s always someone somewhere who’ll have a problem with our cards. Sometimes, it’s our tongue-in-cheek humor that offends. On other occasions, we’ve been accused of enforcing stereotypical ideas about motherhood and fatherhood. One man wrote to us complaining that our Mother’s and Father’s Day cards reinforce the messaging that mothers are the strong ones who hold the family together, while fathers simply fart around. Literally.
“It’s not the first time an animal on a card has landed us in trouble,” Farah says.
Connor twirls a pencil between his fingers. “Remember the happy birthday card with the chimpanzee?”
We remember. Only because Calvin takes great pains to remind us of the time Amell Greetings attracted the outraged attention of an animal rights group after one of our happy birthday cards displayed a photo of a chimpanzee wearing a party hat. There were no more chimpanzee cards after that.
Occasionally, we run with a controversial card line and prepare ourselves for the fallout. Lately, however, Calvin’s become increasingly risk averse, particularly in light of all the keyboard warriors out there. He’s even moving us away from humor (my favorite genre) and leaning us more toward schmaltzy (my least favorite cards to write).
“We’re going to discontinue the line,” Enya says briskly. “Which means we need to come up with something else.”
New designs, new copy. A whole lot of additional work.
A collective groan makes its way around the room.
All of a sudden, Calvin puts in an appearance, wanting to ensure we’re all on board with the changes. Enya and Farah assure him we are, and when his steely gaze travels the room, we all nod like brainless bobbleheads.
A satisfied smile takes over his face. “Since we typically work on seasonal cards six months in advance, this shouldn’t throw you out too much.”
No one offers a nod in response to that ridiculous statement.
