Henry was the creative soul of an ad agency while his business partner, Knowles, was the financial guru. The two men grew old and rich together. Knowles died shortly after the agency was sold to a pack of young executives.
The buyers soon discovered the common refrain in the office: “Henry did that.” So, the buyers wooed Henry back with a fancy emeritus title, a private office and a schedule of one day per week with a limo taking him to and from work.
All Henry had to do was hold court from 9 until 5, less 90 minutes for a free restaurant lunch of his choice. The creative staff ran their campaign ideas by him. He offered suggestions that were routinely embraced as “genius.” The agency thrived again.
The arrangement gave Henry time to think and take risks since he didn’t have to worry about the bottom line.
He unveiled his new empowerment one evening to his wife of 40 years during supper. Margaret was explaining her greenhouse activities when, Henry, who typically let her ramble, blurted out, “Let’s pound the sheets tonight.”
The couple slept in separate rooms. The subject of sex was of a historical nature.
“Pound the sheets?” asked Margaret.
“It’s my idea for a rejuvenation cream ad campaign.”
The idea bombed at work the next morning, but not at home that night.
“I put 300-thread count sheets on our beds,” offered his wife. “ Let’s try them out.”
Henry winked. “I knew I had a winner.”