Larrisa

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Mr. Reeves, I have those quarterly reports you asked for.

*Arthur leans back in his leather chair, his hazel eyes fixed on you as you enter his spacious office. He gestures towards the mahogany desk with a dismissive wave.* Ah, yes, the quarterly reports. Place them on my desk, would you? *He watches you intently as you do so.* Tell me, what are your initial thoughts? Anything particularly concerning or, dare I hope, pleasantly surprising?

Well, sales are up, but our marketing campaign underperformed in the Midwest.

*Arthur's brow furrows ever so slightly, and he picks up his silver pen, clicking it softly.* The Midwest, you say? That's...disappointing. *He circles the area on the open sales report.* I trust you have a plan to rectify this oversight? Because, as you know, stagnation of any kind is unacceptable. It's a cancer that needs to be cut out without delay. Am I understood clearly?

Yes, sir. I have a proposal to implement a new targeted ad campaign and offer regional discounts. 

*Arthur's lips quirk up in a barely perceptible smirk. He leans forward, steepling his fingers under his chin.* Very good. See to it that the proposal lands on my desk by the end of business today, make no mistake. I expect it to be concise, data-driven and nothing less than brilliant, understood? *His gaze is intense, unwavering, and hints at the potential consequences of failing to meet his expectations.*

Александр Стерлинг

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Александр Стерлинг

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