Chapter 1 - The Sunday Morning Gathering
The walk from Lydia’s pillow to her shower seemed extra long on Sundays. Partly it was her bathroom's icy cold tile floor, but mostly it was the thought that all of her friends could sleep in today, but not her. While they rested and recovered from their Saturdays, she had to get up as early as she would for a regular day at the office. Her convictions would soon override her comfort, but not until after the alarm clock went off again.
Technically there was nothing forcing her to go and congregate with these people today. Everything would happen just as smoothly in her absence. If she stayed home, almost no one would miss her or even notice she wasn't there. On top of that, if she went, she would have to sit through the usual, boring, self-congratulating speech from the same old blowhard that spoke every time they met. Still, Lydia knew deep down how important gatherings like this were. Her parents had always strongly encouraged her to do this kind of thing. While there may not be many benefits in the short term, she knew where she wanted to end up and this was part of how she would get there.
Getting ready for this required more effort than a night out with friends, and would almost certainly be a lot less fun. She eventually picked out a skirt that looked good, but probably wasn’t long enough to meet her parents standards of practicality or modesty.
For two years she had been showing up week by week and even attending the occasional extra meeting, but she still hadn’t made any real friends. Early on it looked like she was passionate about the same things as everyone else and they were all working from the same convictions, but that wasn’t the case anymore.
She was almost out the door when she realized she had almost left something very important behind.
“How could I have forgotten the book?” she asked herself out loud. “Without this precious little thing, nobody would have any reason to come today.”
Lydia was met in the driveway by her landlord's daughter.
“You sure look pretty today,” Arianna said. “Are you going to church?”
“No,” Lydia answered, patting the young girl on her head, “I have to go to work today.”
Lydia waved as she drove off. “There you go,” she said to herself in the rear-view mirror, “it could be worse, you could be going to church.”
Toronto is a beautiful city in January. A light dusting of snow the night before meant that the greyish brown piles of snow pushed off the highway were glistening white once again. Everything, from signposts to trees to apartment buildings sparkled in the morning sun. The unusually calm weekend traffic made things more peaceful, but it only served as a reminder to Lydia that everyone else was presumably sleeping, exactly what she wanted to do.
The more she thought about Arianna’s question, the more she realized that what she was doing wasn’t all that different from going to church. It suddenly dawned on her that the company she worked for was almost certainly named after a church. She had sat through hours and hours of Will and Kate’s royal wedding without ever putting the two names together. Her employer was Westminster Printers and the wedding took place in Westminster Abbey.
Certainly the church was no longer as powerful and relevant as it once was. It was also no secret to Lydia that her employer was much less successful than it once had been. Throughout their history, a number of Westminster titles had appeared on national best seller lists. They were still publishing a number of books, but it had been a long time since any of them sold more copies than the marketing department forecast they would. Lydia had often felt that just by showing up to work she was propping up a dying institution. She wondered if going to church felt the same.
The more Lydia thought about it the more she realized there were still quite a few ways that her job was quite different than Christianity. Gathering on a Sunday was a rarity for her office crew, reserved only for special events like this one. Lydia couldn’t think of too many people she worked with that even tried to live a moral lifestyle. The obvious difference was that churches were charities and her company did everything they could to get more money. Then again, from what she knew about organized religion lately, maybe they had more in common than she thought.
Unlike the church however, Westminster Printers’ fortunes had recently changed. They released a new book called, Feminine-ism: How Strong, Sexy Women Can Rewrite History. It emerged slowly into the market, reaching only a small audience at first. Soon however, its popularity started spreading by word of mouth and sales quickly exceeded all projections. The book even made it to the national best seller list. When the marketing department caught up with the buzz surrounding the book, they decided that the best way to capitalize on its momentum was to issue a second print run; one with a new cover design, a celebrity-written forward and additional group book study materials. So, to draw attention to this new reprint, and also to celebrate its success, the company was throwing a party.
The communication Lydia received from the marketing department stressed that to best appeal to their key demographic, young, semi-professional women, they should present an image that was hip, trendy and vibrant. She had collected rental information for nightclubs and on-campus hangouts and presented her findings to her boss. He quickly assured her that none of them fit the company’s newly established brand image requirements. Apparently hip and trendy couldn’t coincide with high class and professional. Lydia wondered if it was all a moot point, since in her opinion Westminster Printers was neither hip nor high class. Still, she had come to the sad realization that in her company, appearance was always much more important than substance.
Westminster Printers always rented the same place, whether it was an annual staff party or a celebration like this one. It didn’t hurt that they also offered a much lower Sunday morning rate. Lydia hated the building and the location, but at least she could find the place easily and there was plenty of parking nearby.
The winter air felt extra cold on her bare legs as she scurried from her car to the building’s entrance. It was only as she approached the door that she remembered they were providing valet parking. While it would have been nice to avoid walking in the cold, she definitely didn’t want to see the look on the valet driver’s face when she gave him the keys to her hatchback. The embarrassment definitely wouldn’t have been worth the effort it saved.
Inside the door, Lydia was met by a member of the catering staff who was taking names and crossing them off a list on a clipboard.
“I’m sorry ma’am, but there’s no Lydia Phillips here,” said the teenager, taking himself much more seriously than she thought his position allowed. “I’m afraid I can’t let you in.”
“Are you just looking at the list alphabetically?” she asked, knowing that her invitation had only been sent at the last minute. “My name was added later. It’ll probably be at the bottom, written in pen.”
“Right,” said the doorman, flipping through his sheets, “there you are. Sorry for the trouble; you can go on in.”
The guest list was supposed to be a compilation of names submitted by the various department heads. For some reason Lydia had trusted her boss, Luke, to remember everyone in their department, even though he had failed at similar tasks in the past. The list he gave her instead, one that she didn’t bother double checking for some reason, included business contacts (most of whom had already been submitted by the accounts management department) and a number of his golfing buddies. As a result of this oversight, people like Lydia had to have their names handwritten at the bottom of the list at the last minute.
Westminster Printers used parties like this to make themselves look bigger and more successful than they actually were. There was also a hope that it would make it look like the accomplishments they were commemorating happened much more frequently. However, one thing that was hidden from the few reporters who actually turned up was that what they were celebrating today was in fact quite rare. It had been over ten years since their last best seller. This new book was changing all of that.
Westminster Printers was right to attach their success to this book, because its popularity still seemed to be growing.
In many ways, Feminine-ism had defined Lydia’s life for the past two years. It wasn't because she was among the thousands of women who had read and been inspired by the book. Instead she had been part of the development team that helped compile, edit and distribute it. Development teams were a key part of Westminster Printers' recent rebranding effort. Lydia was quite sure that she had only been placed on the committee as the token female staff member, but at the time it felt like this was the opportunity she had been waiting for.
Lydia had a university degree in Comparative Literature with a business minor. When she was hired as an External Relations Assistant she hoped she would be helping to keep the company informed on what other publishers and authors were writing on various topics. That was part of her official job description, but she had since started to call herself the ‘schmoozing facilitator.’ Not a day went by when she didn’t think that her degree was being wasted. Planning business meetings and picking up people from the airport wasn’t at all what she’d had in mind when she started with the company. Joining the development team was a big step up, but her entry level salaried position and her blissfully unaware superiors meant that she was never recognized for the extra hours she had committed to this project, let alone for her emotional investment.
Sipping on a free glass of orange juice she picked up at the bar, Lydia surveyed the crowd of people that had gathered. There was no one inviting her into their circle of conversation. Then again, there wasn’t a single group of people she really wanted to join anyway.
The focal point of the event was a short program that she had helped to organize. Even though there were hours of entertainment and almost endless drinks and refreshments provided afterwards, Lydia had no intention of staying very long. She had only planned to stick around long enough to realize that her work would go unrecognized yet again. She was about to take a seat by herself when she heard her name.
“Lydia Philips, I was getting worried you wouldn’t show up.”
Soleil Macpherson was the guest of honour, a woman who, despite being in her mid-forties, had both a youthful sense of energy and an athletic appearance. She was the author of Feminine-ism, and its popularity had made her name and face increasingly well known across the country.
“I almost stayed home,” Lydia responded, only half joking. “But if I knew you’d spend time here mixing with the little people, I would have come a lot sooner.”
“Stop it,” Soleil scoffed. “I'm glad you came Lydia, trust me, but with all the garbage you put up with here, if you had stayed home, I might have even been a little bit proud of you.”
For a while Lydia had felt deep down that she and Soleil had become friends, but they only ever talked in professional settings. Editing sessions and negotiation meetings weren’t situations that nurtured the development of friendships. The late hours and the sometimes tense nature of the discussions at those meetings also didn’t help. “You would have been proud of me for staying home?” Lydia asked.
“I mean it!” Soleil said with a smile. “You should have better things to do with your weekend. You're only here because you are extremely devoted to this company. You invest far too much into this book for what you get back.”
Soleil had spoken with so much frankness that perhaps there was some underlying friendship after all. Only a friend could offer such an accurate and harsh rebuke. Then again, maybe she had meant it as a compliment and didn’t know Lydia well enough to understand just how depressing this would sound to her. Not sure which one it was, Lydia decided to err on the side of professionalism.
“Well, it’s a great book,” she said, sincerely trying to sound genuine. “I was lucky to be a part of it.”
“Please,” Soleil scoffed, “spare me the flattery. You should know, Lydia, if you hadn’t been on the development team, this book would never have been completed.”
It was something she wanted to believe but had never heard anyone say. This definitely convinced her that Soleil was trying to be friendly and not just cordial. Lydia didn’t even know how to reply. She wanted to deny it, but at the same time she didn’t. She wanted to say thanks or ask what exactly she meant. Before she could say anything at all though, Lydia was interrupted by a voice coming over the sound system.
“If I could have your attention, please,” her boss, Luke Ferguson was standing at the microphone. “The band will soon play their last song, and you know how the game works; when the music stops, everyone has to find a seat. There might not be enough chairs for everybody, so you better make sure you get one.” Lydia was always surprised by how polite and even jovial he could be in public. At the office he was cold, emotionally absent, and seemingly incompetent.
Lydia and Soleil shook their heads simultaneously at Luke’s attempt at comedy, but Soleil spoke first.
“Sorry Lydia. They need me up front for this. Maybe we can chat later.” She raised an arm to indicate to management on stage that she was on her way. After taking a few steps toward them, she turned back to Lydia for a second, as though she had forgotten something. “By the way, Lydia, you look fabulous tonight.”
With that Soleil headed off to her special seat on the stage and Lydia sat down by herself. She was normally in full control of her feelings but all this was enough for her eyes to start welling up. Maybe at home she would let herself cry, but not in front of people she worked with. Also, according to Chapter 6 of Feminine-ism this definitely did not meet the criteria of an appropriate show of emotion.
Over the course of the program a number of people, including Soleil, were going to give speeches. Inevitably various people were going to be recognized for their contribution to the book. Since it was so unlikely that Lydia’s name would be mentioned, she was only looking forward to when the book’s flashier new cover was going to be unveiled. Still, Lydia would much rather have continued her conversation with Soleil.
With almost everyone seated, Luke took to the microphone again, coaxed a smile onto his face, and began his speech. He introduced Soleil, but for every compliment he paid to her, Lydia could remember a development team meeting where he criticized those very things. From the podium he praised Soleil for her role as a university professor, even though he had often questioned the validity of the Women’s Studies department where she worked. He went on in surprising detail to list her achievements as a collegiate athlete and more recently as a volunteer coach, but he had often joked about the illegitimacy of female athletics programs. Finally, Lydia couldn’t help but feel that his tribute to her role as a wife and mother diminished her professional accomplishments.
Aside from Luke’s own double-speak, there was an institutional arrogance that really bothered Lydia too. It amazed her how the executives could always praise the book and the writer in a way that tied those compliments directly to the brand image of the publishing company. “Soleil’s writing embodies the Westminster model,” Luke said at one point, “a gutsy and edgy style that makes both the old guard and the new generation take notice.” Maybe that was the point of the party, but she hated that they were just congratulating themselves.
Soleil took the stage next, mostly to detail the changes that had been made from the previous edition. While her speech was actually interesting, she also had to make a few obligatory comments. She thanked the Board of Directors for the opportunity to write in the first place. Lydia knew they had only voted to approve her by a narrow margin and more than once almost pulled the plug. She talked about how great it was to work with an organization that shared her enthusiasm about the subject. Few in the audience knew that this enthusiasm had only become mutual after the sales numbers picked up.
Lydia had always idealized a process where an aspiring writer would submit a manuscript to a publisher and if the company liked it, they would publish it. It had been a long time since they had used a model anything like that at Westminster Printers, and even
longer since they had any success that way. Shortly before Lydia was hired, the Board of Directors decided through a re-visioning process to put most of their eggs in the self-help/inspirational book basket. The market seemed to be heading in that direction and other publishers certainly had had success doing the same thing.
Westminster’s strategy was to sign authors that few people had ever heard of. They would be more desperate for the opportunity and would be willing to work for less money than someone with an established reputation. These people needed to be able to generate some new and interesting material, but more importantly, they needed to follow the company line. The company resources stressed that the candidates should have a dynamic image, but Lydia and everyone else in her department understood this to mean that the writer should be good-looking. They would then be assigned a development team who would heavily edit the material until it was in line with Westminster’s desired brand image. The people in marketing would determine what kind of book the public wanted, and the development team made sure that kind of book was developed. At first, Women’s Issues was supposed to be just a fringe subject, and they only set out to write this book as a way of broadening what they hoped would be a comprehensive catalog of self-motivational material. The company executives were convinced that their overall strategy was a sure fire money-maker, and the success of Feminine-ism had somehow given them reason to believe it was.
Soleil went on to elaborate about the study materials that had been inserted and profiled some of the groups that it had been tested on. Lydia remembered sitting through a few of these meetings with university-aged women reading the book for the first time. She didn’t think she had been out of school for that long, but she already felt quite disconnected from the way the freshmen thought.
After Soleil was finished, Gerald Simmons, the CEO of Westminster Printers, took to the podium. He talked more about the company’s brand image. He profiled a few of the books that were in development, even asking some of those authors in attendance to stand up while he briefly introduced them and their books and threw in some light-hearted teasing. Unlike Luke, Gerald was actually capable of maintaining the interest of everyone there, but his speech was considerably shorter.
When Gerald was finished he called Luke and Soleil back onto the stage.
“We’ve talked a lot about the changes to the inside of the book,” Luke began, gripping the microphone again, “but there are a few more changes we think you’ll be excited about.”
Until now there had been a cloth draped over an easel on the stage behind the podium. At Luke’s signal Soleil went and pulled back the cloth to reveal the new cover design, almost like she was revealing a prize on a game show. Lydia was frustrated that she hadn’t been able to see the new cover until now, despite having been on the development team. She wasn’t entirely surprised though by what she saw. The signature Westminster fonts and border art were still more or less the same, but this time the photo of Soleil was more prominent. Even within that photo, it was hard for Lydia to ignore that a certain part of Soleil’s body was being emphasized, and probably digitally enhanced. Most of Lydia’s university friends held fairly traditional feminist values, and thinking of them she was sure they would disown her now, if they hadn’t already. Looking at the picture, it was clear to Lydia who on staff had designed the cover. If she or anyone would question his methods, she knew exactly which marketing study he would cite to say that this kind of cover would actually sell better with women.
As everyone clapped, Luke spoke again. “We’re glad you like the design, but there is one more change to reveal.” Then he turned once more like a game show host to his lovely assistant. “Miss Macpherson, please reveal the last feature.”
A large circle was pealed back to reveal a gold foil sticker that read ‘National Best seller’ and the crowd applauded politely once again.
“Miss Macpherson will be at the Eastborough Mall tomorrow, so if anyone you know wants an autographed copy, spread the news,” Luke said. Then, shifting his voice and posture to a less formal tone, he added, “Well, that’s all for the official program today. Soleil will be available to autograph books, the bar will be open for a while longer, and the caterers have just begun bringing out appetizers, so there’s no reason to run off just yet.”
Lydia would like to have stayed and talked to Soleil, but with the line that had already formed, she could tell that she wouldn’t get a chance to do that for at least 45 minutes. She had also noticed that the new guy in Marketing hadn’t looked at her once the whole time. As far as she saw it, she had no reason to stay and every reason to run off early.
As soon as she had eaten enough free appetizers to constitute lunch, Lydia scurried back to her car. There was only so much of the weekend left and she was going to try to enjoy what she could before heading back to work Monday morning.