The B-Side

Chapter 1: Deflated

“Hey L!”

Jose, one of the messengers, greeted me as I walked down the familiar corridors of Marc’s office. He was pushing a trolley loaded with boxes, letters and other packages through the hallways of Mercado and Lorenzana Creatives—or as known around the industry as MerLo (pronounced ever as sosyal as Mer-Low). I sort of understood why their office was getting a lot of mail—storyboards transported back and forth from clients for approval and for execution, tapes and DVDs of animatics and actual TVCs, proposals and proofs, and a whole bunch of other stuff that was related to their line of work: advertising.

“L!”

I waved at Sandra, the receptionist, who had just come down that same hall and was going back to her desk. It is actually weird that their office is still bustling—and the receptionist is still here—at 6:30PM. I worked at an office once—and the receptionist at my office is gone by the time the clock hit 5:30PM. I got a couple more greetings—two from associates, one from a janitor, three from on-the-job-trainees and a couple more from executives—before I got to my destination: the pantry.

I know what you’re thinking: I am not an employee of MerLo but I am allowed in their pantry.

How in the world is that possible, you ask?

History lesson first: I was a brand associate for a very popular milk brand when I first met Marc. We were both just associates at that time, and we hit it off because it felt like we were picking on our bosses, both of whom were giving us a very hard time. We were at this meeting where Marc’s agency was presenting their concept for a new ad for our brand. Halfway through the supposedly one-hour meeting that lasted the whole day, Marc saw my boss give me instructions along with some admonishment, and I was just kind of hunched at a corner when he walked over to me.

“You know, I used to live by the philosophy of in through one ear, out the other,” he said, taking the seat next to me.

Aside from giving me that awesome smile that he has, I was mesmerized. Marc Aldrech Lorenzo is the guy you wish lived next to your house. He isn’t the average guy, but he isn’t Mr. Perfect either. He could do eight in a scale of 1 to 8. Just kidding. A scale of 1 to 10. *insert winking smiley here*

Marc is this burly guy who doesn’t go to the gym because I know he spends more than ten hours a day at his office. He’s hardworking, passionate about what he does, but he still gets to smile every once in a while. Actually, that’s what made me like him. He is so full of life and fun that nothing can ever bring him down.

So let’s get physical.

He’s five-foot-eight, muscle and flab in that 200-pound frame, has big, very skillful hands that I first noticed when he started to draw a simple sketch of me just to make me smile and this pretty boy face that oozes with sex appeal. He has this almost round face with a square jaw and other very defined, sharp features—pointed Roman nose, high cheekbones that is almost unnoticeable because he has so cute pinch-worthy cheeks, and thick eyebrows that arch so high when he raises them. He is magnificent in an almost awkward way—you know he’s handsome, but he has this quirk that makes you feel… weird.

I think it’s the artsy fartsy vibe he gives out. 

And that’s when everything just… clicked with me, you know?

I became Marc Lorenzo’s number one fan.

When I resigned from my position in brand two years ago after four years in the industry, Marc was the first one who didn’t agree with my decision. He said I was doing so good in my job so why leave? But then again, what he didn’t know is that I don’t really feel like that brand thing is exactly my calling. It was already actually a miracle of some sort that I even lasted four years in that profession given that my heart wasn’t really into it—which sort of tells you how I am once my heart is intoit. I left the client side, and did what everyone is telling me not to do: go freelance.