"Look at those two birds out on the sill dude, they are going to start banging any second now!" Mike pointed to the floor to ceiling window just ahead of him. "Look the guy one is about to mount her...oh wait maybe that is the girl, which ever, they are definitely about to bang!"
"Micheal Parish ladies and gentlemen, sexpert to the pigeons!" I recoiled with a laugh. "You are way too obsessed with the wildlife of this city and it's sexual habits, you need to get a life mate."
"That's what you get when you have an office that looks over Central Park. And anyway, I am more like sex pest to the stars. Did you clock Sasha Bushton in Soho yesterday? She was hot to trot, if only you would have let me follow her."
"Yeah, you would have got a restraining order. You can't follow every female celeb you see in the city, they just arn't going to be interested in a bearded idiot like you." I turned back to my Apple Mac and clicked enter.
"Your a philistine my friend, its the science of probability. If I stalk enough of them, at least one of them has to take me up on the offer of a drink and bite to eat." Mike sat back in his chair and let out a sigh. "How did we manage to end up in the most amazing city in the world working on the most boring of briefs?" He asked rhetorically.
"Well, we managed to get an insanely high paying senior creative job at a hot agency in the city, and I had to go and embarrass myself at an elite dinner while you pissed off back to the UK to dump the so called love of your life." I looked at him through my glasses, he refused to acknowledge my glare.
"Jack, I thought you understood that I couldn't be a high flying advertising creative in the big apple while being tied down to a half wit in blighty. It had to be done my friend, and it had to be done quickly." Mike smiled over at me with content.
"Yes, but did it have to be done on the same day as that goddamn dinner, I am amazed we still managed to land this contract, I made a complete tit of myself. You just don't care enough."
"You care too much mate."
We were sat in our brand spanking new open plan office on the 50th floor. To my left was a sheet glass wall that looked out into the main office. The main office was also open plan and housed all of the admin staff and artworkers. We would often fold back sections of the glass wall as it made us feel less important, which we thought was good, it's no good getting too big for your boots in this industry. Surrounding the large office were similar setups as ours housing the other senior creatives. The junior creatives were left to fend for desk space in the main office. The floor to ceiling windows that encompassed the whole floor made it a very bright space with little need for any artificial light, a great working environment.
In the far corner of the office was the creative directors suite. Quite withdrawn and insecure for a creative he would usually have his blinds down, cutting himself off from everyone else. He was a good man, with a brilliant eye for detail and a mind full of ideas. To the side of his suite was the huge meeting room.
The meeting room was almost filled by a gigantic, thick black marble table with about 20 large black leather chairs surrounding it, over kill if you ask me. It was fitted with all the mod cons in technology, its own Mac computer, a large projector and also a 50 inch wide screen TV. Around the walls of this room, and indeed filling any wall space left in the office, were examples of the adverts and design work BPP had received awards for. If one of your creations found its way into a platinum frame and onto the wall, it meant you had made it. We were yet to experience this rare phenomenon.
I closed down my Internet browser window and looked over at Mike who was still enjoying the insult he had just thrown at me. "Your an arsehole." I retaliated.