Strong Medicine (10 page)

Sam observed dryly, "I was sure of that. Now, about the subject. I've

talked to Eli Camperdown and what he and others would like is for you -to

describe some of your selling experiences-from a feminine point of view.

There's a suggested title: 'A Woman Looks at Pharmaceutical Detailing.'"

"I can't see it on a movie marquee," Celia said, "but it'll do,"

"You should keep your talk light, possibly humorous," Sam continued.

"Nothing heavy or serious. Nothing controversial. And ten to fifteen

minutes should be enough."

Celia said thoughtfully, ". - - I see."

"If you like, you can submit a draft. Then I'll go over it and make

suggestions."

"I'll remember that offer," said Celia, who already had ideas about her

speech and had no intention of submitting anything.

"Sales in your territory have been excellent," Sam complimented her.

"Keep it up!"

"I intend to," she acknowledged, "though some new products would help,

By the way, what happened to the one Mr. Camperdown talked about a year

ago-Thalidomide?"

"We dropped it. Gave it back to Chemie-Griinenthal. Said thanks but no

thanks."

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"Why?"

"According to our research people," Sam explained, "it wasn't a good

drug. They tried it out in those old people's homes, as you arranged. As

a sleep aid it didn't seem to work."

"And that's the end?"

"So far as Felding-Roth is concerned. I just heard, though, that the

Merrell Company has taken Thalidomide on. They're calling it Kevadon and

they plan a big launching here and in Canada." He added, "With all the

success Thalidomide has had in Europe, that's not surprising."

"You sound unhappy," Celia said. "Do you think our company made a

mistake?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe. But we can only sell what our research department

approves, and this is one they didn't." He hesitated, then said, "I may

as well tell you, Celia, there are a few people around here who are

criticizing you because our testing of Thalidomide was limited to old

people and wasn't more widespread -as Vincent Lord originally wanted."

"Are you one of the critics?"

"No. At the time, if you remember, I agreed with you."

"I do remember." Celia considered, then she asked, "Is the other

criticism important?"

"To you?" Sam shook his head. "I don't think so."

At home, during the evenings and weekends which followed, Celia worked

on her sales meeting speech. In the quiet, comfortable study-den she and

Andrew enjoyed sharing, she surrounded herself with papers and notes.

Watching her one Sunday, Andrew observed, "You're cooking up something,

aren't you?"

"Yes," she admitted, "I am."

"Will you tell me?"

"I'll tell you later," Celia said. "If I tell you now, you'll try to talk

me out of it."

Andrew smiled and was wise enough to leave it there.

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7

"I know that most of you are married," Celia said, looking out over the

sea of male faces that confronted her, "so you know how it is with us

women. We're often vague, we get mixed up, and sometimes forget things

altogether."

"Not you, sharp girl," someone near the front said softly, and Celia

smiled swiftly, but continued.

"One of the things I've forgotten is how long I'm supposed to speak

today. I've a vague notion of someone mentioning ten to fifteen minutes,

but that couldn't possibly be right, could it? After all, what woman

could make herself intimately known to five hundred men in that short

time?"

There was laughter and, from the back of the convention hall, a broad

Midwestern voice. "You can have as much of my time as you want, baby!"

This was followed by more laughter, wolf whistles, and cries of, "Same

here!", "Take all you need, kiddo!"

Leaning closer to the microphone in front of her on the speakers'

platform, Celia responded, "Thank you! I was hoping someone would say

that." She avoided meeting the eyes of Sam Hawthorne, watching her

intently from a few seats away.

It was Sam who, earlier that day, had told Celia, "At the opening of a

sales meeting everybody feels their oats. That's why the first day is

mostly hype. We try to get all the guys worked up---tell those who are

in from the field how great they are, what a topnotch outfit Felding-Roth

is, and how happy we are to have them on the team. After that, for the

next two days, we get down to more serious business."

"Am I part of the hype?" Celia had asked, having observed from the

program that she would be speaking during the after-noon of the first

convention day.

"Sure, and why not? You're the only female we have actively selling, a

lot of the guys have heard about you, and all of them want to see and

hear something different."

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Celia said, "I must try not to disappoint them."

At the time, she and Sam had been walking on Park Avenue, shortly after

breakfasting at the Waldorf with several others from the company. In an

hour the sales convention would begin. Meanwhile they were enjoying the

mild and sunny April morning. Clear fresh breezes were sweeping through

Manhattan and springtime proclaimed itself in massed tulips and daffodils

on Park Avenue's central malls. On either side, as always, were noisy,

never ceasing streams of multilane traffic. On sidewalks a tide of

hurrying inbound office workers swirled around Sam and Celia as they

strolled.

Celia, who had driven in from New Jersey early that morning and would

stay for the next two nights at the Waldorf, had dressed carefully for

this occasion. She had on a new tailored jacket and skirt of navy blue,

with a white ruffled blouse. Celia knew that she looked good and that the

combination was a happy blend of business crispness and femininity. She

was also glad to have shed the glasses which she had always disliked;

contact lenses, suggested by Andrew on their honeymoon, were now a

permanent part of her life.

Sam said suddenly, "You decided not to show me a draft of your speech."

"Oh dear!" she acknowledged. "It seems I forgot."

Sam raised his voice to be heard above the traffic. "It might seem that

way to others. But not to me, because I know there's almost nothing you

forget."

As Celia was about to reply, he silenced her with a gesture. "You don't

need to answer that. I know you're different from others who work for me,

which means you do things your own way, and so far you've mostly done

them right. But I'll offer just a word of warning, Celia-don't overreach.

Don't leave caution too far behind. Don't spoil a damn good record by

trying to do too much, or move too fast. That's all."

Celia had been silent and thoughtful as they turned, crossed Park Avenue

on a green light, and headed back toward the Waldorf. She wondered: would

what she had in mind for this afternoon be overreaching?

Now, with the sales convention under way, and as she faced the entire

sales force of Felding-Roth in the Waldorf's Astor Room, she realized she

was about to find out.

Her audience was mostly salesmen--detail men-plus supervi-

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sors and district managers, all from outposts of the company as far apart as

Alaska, Florida, Hawaii, California, the Dakotas, Texas New Mexico, Maine

and places in between. For many it was their only direct contact, every

other year, with their superiors at company headquarters. It was a time for

camaraderie, the reviving of enthusiasm, the implantation of new ideas and

products, and even -for some--a renewal of idealism or dedication. There

were also some boisterous high spirits directed toward womanizing and

drinking-ingredients found at any sales convention of any industry anywhere.

"When I was invited to speak to you," Celia told her audience, "it was

suggested that I describe sonie of my experiences as a detail woman, and I

intend to do that. I was also cautioned not to say anything serious or

controversial. Well, I find that impossible. We all know this is a serious

business. We are part of a great company marketing important, life-giving

products. So we ought to be serious, and I intend to be. Something else I

believe is that we who are working on the firing line of sales should be

able to be frank, honest and, when necessary, critical with each other."

As she spoke, Celia was conscious not only of the large audience of

salesmen, but of a smaller one which occupied reserved seats in the front

two rows: Felding-Roth's senior executives-the chairman of the board,

president, executive vice president, vice president of sales, a dozen

others. Sam Hawthorne, his near-bald head standing out like a beacon, was

among the others.

Eli Camperdown, as befitted the president and CEO, sat front and center.

Beside him was the board chairman, Floyd VanHouten, now elderly and frail,

but who had led and shaped the company a decade earlier. Nowadays

VanHouten's duties were mainly limited to presiding at directors' meetings,

though his influence , mained strong.

"I used the word 'critical,' " Celia said into the microphone, "and

that-though some of you may not like it-is what I intend to be. The reason

is simple. I want to make a positive contribution to this occasion and not

be merely ornamental. Also, everything I shall say is within the limits of

the title I was handed, which is in the program: 'A Woman Looks at

Pharmaceutical Detailing.' "

She had their attention now, and knew it. Everyone was silent, listening.

That had been her worry earlier-whether she could hold this audience.

Coming off Park Avenue this morning and entering the

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crowded, smoky, noisy anteroom where the sales force was assembling, Celia

had experienced nervousness for the first time since agreeing to be a

convention speaker. Even to herself she admitted the Felding-Roth sales

convention was, at least for the time being, essentially a male exercise

with its backslapping bonhomie, crude jokes, inane loud laughter, all to

a background of unoriginal conversation. Celia lost count of the number

of times today she had heard, "Long time, no see!" mouthed as if a novel,

just-invented line.

"Just as you do," she went on, "I care very much about this company we

work for and the pharmaceutical industry of which we are a part. Both

have done fine things in the past and will do more. But there also are

things that are wrong, seriously wrong, especially with detailing. I

would like to tell you what, in my opinion, these things are and how we

could do better."

Glancing down at the two executive rows, Celia detected unease on several

faces; one or two people were fidgeting. Quite clearly, what she had said

already was not what had been expected. She looked away and gave her

attention to other portions of the hall.

"Before we came in here this morning, and again this after-noon, we all

saw the banners and the booth which feature Lotromycin. It's a

magnificent drug, one of the great breakthroughs in medicine and 1, for