The Phones in Beijing

When Sarah arrived in Christchurch she walked through customs clutching the little piece of torn paper on which Dan had scrawled his number. It was early morning and the world outside the airport was slowly yawning to life beneath a wash of purple light. She made her way over to a telephone booth near the exit and ignoring the lists of numbers for local hotels shakily punched his number into the keypad. There was a pause, then a unfamiliar ring tone, and then the sound of Dan's voice:

"Hello?"

"Dan, it's Sarah."

They had worked together in one of the English school's in Beijing. Dan, having been in the country for nearly two years, had had a better idea of how things worked, how to teach the classes, where to go drinking in the evening. She had told him that on her first day she had wandered over to the busy E. Chang'an Avenue, that she had walked aimlessly watching crowds of women carrying umbrellas against the sun. "It seemed so strange and yet so beautiful," she had told him. Clouds of colored umbrellas streaming deliberately along the sidewalks as if caught by a wind she couldn't feel.

The second day she had wandered in the same direction, cutting through a small strip of garden with little ponds filled with golden fish and tall red pagodas standing at their shores. This was more in tune with the China she had expected, more so than the highways and traffic she had seen as the taxi led her from the airport.

At some point that morning, as she moved from one sight to another she had become aware of a young girl walking to her left. "You visiting?" the girl asked when Sarah turned to look at her. She was smiling broadly, and holding her hand as a visor across the top of her eyes to shield them from the sun. Sarah said that she lived there. "Here in Beijing?" The girl said as if she didn't believe her. "Yes." Sarah replied but unconfidently. "You want me to show you some things? Look come with me." The girl took Sarah's hand and led her over to a small bridge straddling one of the ponds. She pointed to it and smiled. Sarah felt silly for having felt so wary of the girl and was even beginning to warm to her. Sarah motioned for the girl to move closer to the bridge so she could take a photo and the girl, understanding what was required of her, leapt into position and thrust two fingers into the air, an international signal for peace, but Sarah couldn't remember if she had ever seen anyone do this in real life.

After they has taken a number of photos, the girl led her out of the park and down small streets where men cycled bikes pulling large trailers behind them and stores selling unrecognizable fruits and vegetables lined the sidewalks. The girl pointed toward them as if to say 'Look, this is China'. At intervals along the street bright orange domes grew from the concrete on sleek silver stems like alien flowers. When the girls saw Sarah looking at them she waved her over to one and said "come, come." She saw that they were phone booths. Suddenly the girl tried to take the camera from Sarah's neck and Sarah lurched back as if she had been waiting for this moment to come. The girl laughed at her. "No, no. I'll take your photo." "In the phone booth?" Sarah asked. The girl nodded. Sarah handed her the camera and then stood beneath the large orange dome, the air was strangely cooler in its shade. As she held the phone to her ear and opened her mouth in a half smile, half mock conversation, the girl snapped a photo and nodded enthusiastically to say that it was good.

After she handed the camera back, the girl looked around and started suddenly as if surprised "Oh! Look here!" She took sarah by the hand and pulled her toward a store.

"Of course she wanted you to buy something" Dan said that evening as they sat in the bedroom Sarah shared with one other teacher. "She wasn't showing you anything for free. What did you buy?" Sarah reluctantly showed him the long rectangular ink drawing of a panda sat amongst bamboo cane. "The store owner also wrote my name in Chinese symbols, look." She showed him the second sheet of paper she had been given and Dan laughed.

HTML Giants

Beauty lies beyond the eye
An open window to the soul
Who knows then how to bring her forth
Then knows the beauty of control

Unofficial Company Motto, written by Fabrice K. Gautier, President and Worldwide Creative Director, !Gautier LLC.

"Thank you for coming in so early." The company president said. It was icy cold in the conference room, despite the entire staff being huddled there. "I want to tell you two things"

"One. We are in the midst of a revolution. I want you to understand that this is a revolution sweeping throughout the advertising industry. It is an ugly revolution but a revolution nonetheless. We have prided ourselves for so long now on the power of poetry, on the power of beauty to strike to the core of the consumer. To elevate them. To make their purchase decisions matter. This relationship is now in flux. For every generation technologies emerge, they challenge how we perceive life, how we engage with one another. The written word is dead, I have destroyed all of my books and I urge you to do the same. The printed ad is dying, the magazine industry... Ah..."

His speech dissolved into sobs. There were many heads nodding thoughtfully around the room. The Deputy Senior Associate Group Account Manger stepped forward, resting a comforting arm upon the President's shoulders.

"This is a trying time for us all" The Deputy Senior Associate Group Account Manager continued where her president had left off.

"As an agency we intend to meet the challenges of a new world head on. When you return to your desks you will each find a questionnaire. Please fill this out and return it to me as soon as possible this morning. It is imperative that we are aware which of you is conversant in modern technologies and which of you is not. Thank you so much for your time."

The employees shuffled from the conference room and returned to their seats.

At his desk Mark studied the questionnaire that lay before him. It was a very simple 'yes' 'no' box ticking affair. Do you understand HTML, do you understand Flash, do you understand social networking. He was disappointed to find himself ticking 'no' for a large number of questions. He could operate a facebook page but he couldn't have told you how the thing was designed. He looked around at his colleagues. Each of them was staring down, a look of deep concentration fixed upon their faces. He looked particularly at the older Senior Associate Creative Directors. If new times called for new methods and new strategies, where would they fit in to all of this?

Later that afternoon, after a day of filling out purchase order forms and expense sheets, he was beckoned into the General Manager and New Business Director's office. The General Manager and New Business Director was a thin man in his early forties. It was his job to steer the ship so to speak, to oversee each of the accounts, and to generally manage. "Mark, please take a seat." He said.

Mark sat on the pilates ball that doubled up as chair. It was good for posture, but left its user bobbing in such a way that it was difficult to conduct serious conversations whilst straddled across it. It was for this reason that they had been banned from client meetings and new business pitches.

"Mark" He began. "I want you to understand that we value the work that you have done for us here."

Mark phased out.