a few days later

Margot stopped at the vegan smoothie place on her way into the office. She found herself in there most mornings, fooling herself that drinking one of their green concoctions proved her somehow worthier than her fellow human being. Healthier, certainly. Except that, judging by the length of the line she stood in, her fellow human beings also started their days in the very same way.

As she inched forward she had plenty of time to observe that at least 8 in 10 people ordered the same green smoothie; to wonder why the smoothie place even bothered with the other flavours; even to consider with a marketer's interest the mega-explosion of the humble kale -- now ubiquitous, but previously only enjoyed by ... well, she couldn't think of who really. Hippies? Did they eat kale? Did kale even exist before 2010? She searched her childhood memory banks for any evidence that kale could have been purchased during the 80s or 90s and absolutely couldn't find it. Swiss chard, possibly. Maybe she recollected a few limp leaves of chard lying languidly across a bed of mashed potatoes in a restaurant she might have eaten in a decade or so ago. But nothing like the find-it-everywhere-blend-it-into-everything kale of today. It occurred to Margot, based on these musings, that society (North American society, at least) had evolved its opinion of health food in general. If one wanted to martyr oneself, one couldn't solely rely on having a kale smoothie for breakfast. Everyone did.

She drew nearer to the ordering counter, observing the array of wheatless treats and wondering idly how many calories the words "energy ball" obscured. She wasn't a calorie counter exactly, but she was wary. She had been a chubby child. As her mother unforgivingly pointed out immediately before every holiday meal, her figure still tended toward 'robust.' Like an ex-convict released back into the world, it required vigilant monitoring and should be considered prone to backsliding at the slightest temptation. Who knew if one energy ball would be the trigger that set its craven instincts loose again. It might start with a seemingly healthy protein bar, but before she knew it, she'd be hiding in drawstring joggers and oversized hoodies like when she was 13. Not that she thought a woman should have to hide herself just because she didn't match societal standards. Only that Margot herself found it impossible to bear the discomfort of a tight waistband when her body insisted on breathing.

The line moved another person-length forward, and she felt her phone buzz inside her jacket pocket. She pulled it out and saw it was a text from Martin.

Martin: Alarm didn't go off. Cover for me?

Annoyed, Margot stabbed her reply.

Margot: You know it's critique this morning, right? Niall might be in. I can't cover you.

She hit send, then immediately felt badly.

Margot: I'll tell them your cat needed to go to the vet.

Martin replied after a short pause.

Martin: kk tx see you sooooon! xoxo

Margot: You text like a teenaged girl, FYI.

She awaited his reply, but it didn't come. He'd be rolling over for another hour's sleep, no doubt. Argh. Why was she always letting him get away with being so useless? It said more about her than it did about him. She was a wimp. Still a socially terrified, chubby little girl inside. She annoyed herself.

It was her turn at the ordering counter at last. Margot scanned the menu above the bank of whirring blenders and decided impulsively on the scariest, most foreign-sounding thing she saw.

"I'll have a 16oz Kombucha Beet Gut-Defender, please. With a spirulina shot."

The girl behind the till shuddered almost imperceptibly, but punched Margot's morning juice order through.

"That'll be $18.99," she said, her pierced eyebrow cocked toward the ceiling like a dare.

Margot inhaled with shock but waved her phone over the Square reader. If it hurt, she deserved it.

***

In the office, the diaper team was convened at the giant glass wall that divided the accounts area from the tech department. Otto, whose account it was, sat off to the side with a blank notepad on his lap and the look of someone far too hungover to be sitting upright.

The researchers were throwing day-glo post-its up on the wall along with stock photos of babies and crib pictures torn out of IKEA catalogues. They were building what they pretentiously called a Mind Map.

One of the researchers began, "We have conducted five separate focus groups, each with no less than ten new mothers. The key finding from groups so far - and I say so far because honestly, Otto, we may need to run more sessions because I'm not sure we've nailed down a true insight yet," the researcher looked hopefully at Otto who would have to approve further spending if they wanted to do any more research than had already been done especially given that everyone in the agency already had the impression that this account had been in research longer than any other account in the history of accounts. "But the key finding so far has been, well, that babies seem to, to be blunt about it, I mean, they seem to, you know... expel more than expected."

"More than expected?" Denton Horowitz, Head of Creative Tech, found himself needing clarity and so asked for it. "What amount of expelling is expected... and by whom?"

"Like, I mean, Mothers don't expect to go through as many diapers as they do." the researcher offered. "They're, like, surprised by how many diapers they actually have to, you know, buy. It's a lot, apparently."

Otto rubbed the bridge of his nose and interjected. "You've spent, and I'm not exaggerating am I, more than fifty thousand dollars of the client's budget on pastries, coffee, Breather room rentals and Babies R Us gift cards for a bunch of new mothers to confide in you that they're surprised by the number of times a baby will fill a diaper in a day?"

The researcher nodded.

"Yes, exactly. But I think there's a nugget of insight in there really. Something you could work with, right Denton?"

Denton's eyes shifted around the group, looking for affirmation that they expected him to do or say something intelligent now to further this insight. His face resolved into a mask of false confidence.

"Okay. No, of course. Let me think. I'll riff on what we know." He paused, cracked his knuckles and began. "Mommy bloggers, obviously. Social media," he said declaratively, before moving just as quickly into his next declaration. "Apple PAY. Convenience. Personal screen time. Down time. Nap while the baby's napping." He paused, making direct eye contact with the researcher as if daring him to offer a counter-argument. Finally, and with great flourish, Denton proclaimed, "UBER diaper delivery."

The group of researchers gasped with delight and nodded amongst themselves. Brilliant, they all agreed. Yes, the client would like that.

Berry, who had been listening from his desk across the room, made a quiet face. Denton's go-to creative tech idea was Uber. Uber for this. Uber for that. Sometimes he tried to get Apple Pay into the mix but couldn't usually make it stick. Berry swore that Denton didn't know any more about tech than the average person with a smartphone and the ability to download apps. He shook his head, wished Otto luck squeezing partnership dollars out of Allegra and turned back to his laptop.

He was relentlessly hitting the send/receive button because the Atrabax decision was due that morning. In his heart of hearts, he hoped they wouldn't get it. That'd show Niall who'd been right (Berry) and who'd been a giant egomaniacal asshole (Niall). Of course, he'd never admit that he was rooting against the agency. Allegra would hang him quicker than he could see it coming. Of course, if they didn't get it, she might hang him anyway. Two accounts people had been cut in the weeks since she arrived, their clients divvied up between those remaining. If they didn't get Atrabax, Berry could easily be next.

He hit send/receive again just as Margot walked in the room. She was holding a giant purplish looking drink and smiling widely in Berry's direction.

"Thought I'd pop in to see if the decision's in yet. Is it?"

Berry shook his head. "Not yet. Not yet. What's that you're drinking? Looks... healthy."

She made a face and put it down on his desk. "Try it. Have it, actually. It's unbelievably awful. But I'm certain it would cure you of, literally, anything."

He smiled at the intimacy of her offering her already-sipped-at drink to him and was considering whether he'd take a sip of his own or not when Shanti appeared at his desk as well.

"Have we heard yet?" her wrists jangled with vaguely Indian-looking gold bangles. "I've been reading my Angel Cards this morning, and they are feeling very beneficent about our chances."

"Well, I asked my Magic 8 Ball, and it wasn't so sure," Berry replied drily.

Bing!

The sound of an incoming email brought everyone's attention to Berry's inbox. Here it was. Janus-Klein's decision email appeared at the top of his inbox. He opened it hesitantly as everyone huddled behind him.

Margot was the first to interpret the text and made a great whoop that drew the attention of the diaper team across the room. She clutched Berry from behind his chair.

"Congrats! I mean to all of us! This is HUGE!!! I'm going to tell David." She ran off, leaving the warm impression of her hands on his shoulders.

God damn Niall, he thought sourly. Always comes out on top. He reached for the purplish juice and took a long sip.

"Argh!" Berry spat and threw the yeasty beet concoction into the garbage where it belonged.