How To Apply Marketing Myopia In Business Today?

At the company's annual gala, the CEO announced that this year's top sales performer would receive a two-million-dollar year-end bonus. I was the top performer. However, my manager called me into his office the very next day and explained that the company was cutting costs and improving efficiency. As a result, my bonus had to be reduced. I initially assumed everyone's bonus was being cut. Then, I found out I was the only one getting shortchanged. Even worse, they handed my position to a useless coworker who could barely do the job. I understood everything immediately. 'So this is how it is. You're tossing me aside after you got what you wanted from me.' Fine. I stopped putting in any effort from that day forward. I clocked in, did the bare minimum, and watched the company slowly fall apart. Sales began to drop month after month. Even the major clients I had already secured began withdrawing their investments. That was when the CEO finally panicked. He showed up at my front door, begging me to fix things. I kicked the door open and looked down at him. "You think a garbage company like yours deserves my help?"

My five years of marriage to Elliot Kline turned out to be a cruel joke. "For tomorrow's monthly report meeting, I'd like Yvette to present your branding plan," Elliot said, not looking up from his desk. I put down the files I was organizing, certain I had misheard. "What?" "Yvette just joined the company. She needs a chance to prove herself. Your plan is perfect for that." He lifted his head, his tone brooking no argument. "But that's my entry for the Veriania Creative Competition," I protested. "You win awards every year. What's the harm in letting her have it this time?" He shrugged, adding, "We need to nurture new talent." I stared at the man with whom I had shared a bed for five years. His face suddenly felt so unfamiliar to me. "Do you know how many sleepless nights I poured into that plan? And you're giving it to a new intern?" "Don't be so petty. It's just a plan. My decision is made." My fists clenched, anger surging through me.

From a stall in the office restroom, I overhear someone badmouthing me. Henry Fielder, the intern I've been mentoring for three months, grumbles, "The guy's got zero people skills. He's a total fossil, like a robot stuck in one mode." I'm about to push the door open and jump in when someone laughs and piles on. "The paperwork is incomplete. The receipts aren't compliant. I can't reimburse it without a manager's signature. We could recite his canned empathy lines in our sleep!" Once they're gone, I quietly head back to my office. Later, Henry drops a thick stack of expense reports onto my desk. "Quit waving the rulebook and rejecting everyone's reimbursements." I skim the fake receipts, and for once, I don't call him out. Instead, I give a thin smile and say, "I have a headache. I can't make out the words."

I was the company's top sales performer, but I never clocked in or out, and I rarely showed my face at the office. Two-thirds of the employees had never even met me. Yet somehow, I single-handedly dominated the sales numbers, outperforming everyone else and propelling us to the number one spot in the industry. Then came the day they handed out year-end bonuses. Jeffrey Young, the new sales director, fired me on the spot, claiming it was bad luck that I stepped into the building with my left foot first. When I demanded to know what gave him the right, he sneered at me with pure contempt. "Because I'm going to be the future owner of this company! You just got lucky landing a few big clients, and that was all thanks to the company's existing customer base anyway!" He continued, "Let me tell you something... Kieran Campbell, whoever the company gives resources to, becomes the top seller!" I could not help but laugh. All they saw was that I never clocked in, but they never saw me out there day and night, running around to maintain those client relationships. The truth was, in this industry, clients were loyal to me personally, not to the company's brand. I pulled out my phone and called my wife, Melanie Gardner. "When did you get yourself another husband behind my back?"

I walked into the Marxell Motors showroom with my girlfriend, Fleur Harper, and got straight to the point: I wanted to look at the SX. The salesman, Lenny Sloan, gave me a once-over, then acted like he hadn't heard a word. He pulled Fleur aside instead, all smiles. "You've got a great eye," he told her. "People are lining up just to put a deposit down on this one." I trailed along and cut in, frowning. "Can I take it for a test drive?" He didn't even look up. "This one's sixty-eight grand out the door. You sure you want to try it?" "I'm sure." He sighed like he was doing me a favor, then walked me around the car, dripping condescension the whole way. "A car to keep up appearances, sure, that's fine. Just don't get too full of yourself. It's seven hundred a month on the financing. You sure you can keep that up?" I kept my face flat and didn't answer. He leaned in and dropped his voice. "Real talk, man, what do you even do for work? Fresh out of school and already buying a luxury car?" I fired back with a question about the trim specs. He waved me off. "Not bad, you actually did your homework. But I already sent the details to your girl. Go hash it out with her." I swallowed my anger, finished negotiating the price, and put down the deposit. A week later, Fleur got a message: the dealership wanted her to come pick up the car. I called the dealership to ask what was going on. The man on the other end didn't bother hiding his contempt. "That deposit—who knows whose money that really was. You're wearing five-dollar canvas sneakers. No way you can afford an SX. Whoever's footing the bill gets the call to come pick it up. Problem?" No problem at all. After all, I was just a mystery shopper sent from corporate.

Marcus Mowbray is a powerful Chief Executive Officer of a pharmaceutical company. After a chance encounter, he must find out the identity of the mystery woman acting as his very own good Smaritan before the mystery becomes obsession, but will satisfying his curiosity make a difference or leave him wanting more?