Gone
Pete's Office
Gone.
Don had said it so nonchalantly at the Partner's meeting. It was as if he was suggesting turkey sandwiches for lunch or changing paper towel brands for the bathroom.
He'd caught a flash of surprise in Joan's eyes too but she'd recovered fast. Sterling had suggested having another woman be brought on for the creative department. Roger hadn't even acknowledged Don. He'd merely taken a drag of his cigarette and suggested an early cocktail hour.
"Peggy is gone." He kept hearing the words rumble around in his head. It echoed, waiting for the rest of the sentence. Gone….on vacation. Gone….to dinner. Gone….to meet with a client. But the rest of the sentence never came.
Don's explanation had been quick. "New job. Cutler, Gleason, and Chaough. Better title. Her choice."
Of course it was her choice. She always got a choice. She was always choosing for other people. Always choosing for him.
He'd let Peggy Olson go a long time ago. Somewhere between Tammy's birth, and moving to the suburbs, and the other women, he'd let her go. Well, he'd let most of her go. Or perhaps it was let her go mostly. It had been quite some time since his grammar classes.
Still he was owed a goodbye, an awkward hug and conversation.
Perhaps he would have carried her box of things to a waiting cab. Maybe they would have gotten a drink in a bar down the street. They could have toasted to the child he still thought of from time to time. They could have relived her pitch to Popsicle or the jokes they shared in the hotel room before Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce had office space. But like everything else, Peggy robbed him of that too.
Pete released a smile mixed with regret and longing.
Joan's Office, 2 months later
Joan closed her door, trying to block out the foot traffic and constant cling-clang of heels walking up and down the hallway. She hated that tile floor. It was far too noisy for a business like Sterling-Cooper-Draper-Pryce.
Joan tried to swallow back her sob remembering how much she insisted on these stupid floors as 'easier to clean' and 'more modern' when they'd picked this building. She wanted carpet. She missed carpet. She missed the carpet at Sterling Cooper.
She didn't often miss the old office. Her mother had always discouraged that sort of thought as a waste of time. Might-have-beens and use-to-bes are words are for people without goals and plans.
And it truly seemed pointless for her to be melancholy over that building. For every good memory there she'd had an equal number of bad ones. The good times with Roger blended in with the bad ones. The fun nights of watching Kennedy become President always tasted bittersweet when she remembered watching his assassination a few years later. Remembering the nights that began at PJ Clark's was always fun but ended with her calculating where all those girls and guys were now.
But she couldn't help it today. She missed the old office. She missed the old dynamics. Back then, every man in the office would bend over backwards to accommodate her. They feared her and they wanted her at the same time. At the old office, every woman cowered in fear, knowing she could fire them in a second. Now, nobody was scared of her. Nobody cared when she ordered them around. She used to be the goddess of the office. She'd been called Aphrodite more than once back then.
Now, names like Megan Calvet and Jane Seigel were whispered about as though they were gods. The women who truly made it, the ones who really did well for themselves.
She grimaced as another loud clanging pair of shoes raced past her office. I've heard horses sound more graceful.
She pulled out the filing cabinet, busying herself for a few moments and trying to stop the headache she could tell was coming. Her fingers stopped at the 'P' category. The last file still read his name,
Pryce, Lane Edward.
She knew she should throw the file away or put it somewhere else but that seemed wrong somehow. It was funny, that had never been an issue before. She'd been sad when Ida Blankenship died but threw away her file the next morning.
In the old office, someone would get fired and their file would immediately go to storage, no questions asked. The same had been true here. Even Peggy Olson's file went to storage within a day or two, although she was under instructions from Don not to destroy it yet.
But Lane's file remained unmoved. She traced the letters of his name with the pads of her finger. It seemed everyone from the old office was gone now, save a few. Harry Crane was doing well but rumors were circulating he was jumping ship. The same went for Cosgrove.
Peter Campbell had moved from an ambitious new guy to an ambitious leach without scruples or morals. He wasn't wearing a wedding ring anymore and seemed to spend most of his days in the city. It was sad in some ways but predictable. God it was predictable.
Donald Draper had changed too. When she met him, he'd been the perfect creative man. He had bravado and charisma with the perfect country wife and children to balance him. Now? He was twelve years older, married to his former secretary, and living in an upper floor overlooking the Park. It was all cliché, a far cry from the man she'd met almost a decade and half prior.
Only Roger and Mr. Cooper seemed to stay in the same. Cooper's insistence of taking off his shoes and love of Asian culture wasn't mysterious or interesting anymore. It was seen as an outdated practice of man who could tell a great story of the good-old-days. And Roger? She supposed he would never change. It was oddly reassuring and at the same time madly frustrating knowing that he was soon to be a grandfather and had the maturity of a fifteen year old. He'd show glimmers of maturity and seriousness only to be on some drug trip a few days later.
She peaked out her doorway, unsurprised to see several of the girls surrounding Debbie's desk. She'd finally gotten the ring this weekend. She'd be gone by Labor Day.
She could almost hear Lane's reaction to finding out they had to once again hire a new secretary. "Yes, well, I'd expect your be rather use to it by now. After all, we hire young girls with one ambition and that is to find a man willing to marry them despite their obvious flaws."
She lit a cigarette, content to take a moment to inhale it slowly. She supposed it didn't matter who the girl came in to replace Debbie, she'd be gone in a few years too.
She could hear a faint British accent giving him some philosophic line. It would go something like, "life is a series of ends and beginnings. Of comings and goings and perhaps that is what the office is, a series of a beginnings and ends."
Everyone else's end would eventually come here. They'd all be gone. Eventually. And she would still be here.
Ken's Office 2 Months Later
Ken smirked as he opened the paper. The article was front page of the business section, top of the fold. "Virginia Slims: Tobacco is Back." The article mentioned Peggy's name four times and CGC three. The first two quarters of market penetration were phenomenal for a new tobacco brand. The article also mentioned CGC recent acquisitions of Topaz and Tide.
He knew Draper was in his office right now reading the same article. Hope it hurts. He heard Cynthia's voice in his head, scolding him for thinking such thoughts.
The truth was, the last few weeks had been good to him. His father-in-law's company had come on board and it was his account. Howard Johnson had just signed on and they hated Pete so he was Roger's second, essentially making it his account too.
He looked out of his window, calm in the realization that he was no longer .Accounts. That boy had been immature and naïve. Sure, he'd taken some girls home and had smoked a 'Mary Jane' or two but nothing like Draper and Sterling.
They spent their mornings drinking and their afternoons screwing women that weren't their wives. They made fun of the clients, fucked their secretaries, and gone off for weeks at a time without so much as a phone call. Yet they always came out smelling like a rose no matter how vicious or drunk or selfish they were.
He use to roll his eyes at their efforts and down right disgusted at some of the shit they pulled. But never been disgusted enough to walk away.
Then they made Joan a whore.
Pete Campbell had somehow persuaded or pressured Joan into spreading her legs for a car. Hell, knowing Pete, he probably did both. Yet, Pete was a partner. Pete was the one hand picked to leave to the old firm while he was left behind. Pete was the one who had more accounts than anyone else at the firm. Pete had played the part of a pimp and came out on top yet again.
Peggy had walked away the same day Joan's partnership was announced. But he'd stayed. He'd put in too many years, too many accounts to move now. He'd already changed agencies twice in the last five years and eventually the clients quit moving with you, no matter how much they liked you. He'd also learned that nobody cared how slimy you were or how you got an account as long as you got it. That lesson had been years in the making. He'd always assumed some higher moral ground, eventually Roger and Draper and Pete would fall from their skyscrapers. Instead it had been the only decent one amongst them. His memory flashed back to Lane's body hanging on the back of the door. The words kill or be killed whispered through the room. The writer in him still peaked through his conscious from time to time.
So now he was Kenneth, the blonde haired man, who would make Pete look lazy and unambitious. He'd used his contacts at several rivals to get meetings with potential clients. He flirted with Clara long enough to find out that Pete's meeting with Chlorox was schedule for Wednesday at 1:00. He'd called the agency himself, and moved the meeting to the Roosevelt. It had been sophomoric and underhanded but it'd given him over 5 million in accounts.
The best part was how little it really affected him. He won. And it didn't feel cheap or hollow. It felt like John Deere and Heinz Baked Beans. It felt like all the rest of them had. In some ways it felt better, more thrilling somehow.
His phone rang, piercing through the silence. It was Ginger. The Vice President of Kenmore was on the line, wanting to schedule a meeting with the creative department. They were looking for a new agency since Pender & Douglas managed two laughable campaigns in a row. He knew several other agencies were openly bidding but they wanted a meeting with him.
He poured celebratory vodka in a tumbler. He raised his glass in the clear room before drinking the shot in one clean gulp.
He wasn't sure quite what he wanted yet…to become a silent partner like Pete? Perhaps the 'it' guy like Draper was for creative. Who gave a shit? Ken. Cosgrove. Accounts. was gone and in its place was Kenneth Cosgrove, the one who use to play by the rules.
The End.
**I know Peggy didn't leave SCDP because of Joan but doing it from Ken's perspective, it would seem perfectly natural to make that assumption. Same with several other points of views or references**