The story of a Silicon Valley PR agency during the dotcom boom of the late 1990s
(Barb and Clay are in Clay's office. Photos of Clay with tech legends, Steve Wozniak/Jobs, Larry Ellison, framed articles on the walls - a bust of Mark Twain sits illuminated in an alcove. Industry Awards are arranged on his desk and bookshelf, Bronze Anvils, Silver Trumpets)
Clay - (across desk) So, you're interviewing for a new AE?
Barb - We're looking around, yeah. (Tense, struggling to be confident).
Clay – When were you going to tell me? I work here, too, you know, oh, wait, yeah that’s right, I own the fucking place.
Barb – Now Clay
Clay – Don’t “Now Clay” me, Barb. I pay the bills around here, it’s my name on the letterhead.
(Clay goes quiet and Barb sits there quietly, too, waiting for Clay’s anger to subside which it does, then he asks)
What accounts would he be on?
Barb - Applied Hyper Math, maybe MetaBall, maybe some new business.
Clay - Oh, you've got some new business, then?
Barb - We're working on some things, we have leads, potentials...
Clay - Potentials...
Barb - Yes, quite a few actually.
Clay - Really...
(another pause as Barb and Clay examine each other)
Barb – It’s not what you think, I’m not going behind your back. We were just talking. The AHM account needs another body and Ron and Dave need to think we get their technology.
Clay – Don’t you?
Barb – Sure, but I can only spend so much time on them, and you know how Britt is, and then this guy’s resume came in and he used to write for Open Systems Today.
Clay – Really? What’s his name?
Barb – Billy Packhard.
Clay – Hewlett’s partner?
Barb – No relation. Listen let me run the kid by the geeks, see what they think.”
Clay – Barb.
Barb – Yes, Clay.
Clay – Fuck the geeks. I (loudly) want to meet this guy. Remember “Clayton Partners. CLAYTON, that’s me.
Barb – Right Clay, of course. I’ll get him on your calendar.
Clay – Great.
(Barb leaves. Clay sits alone in his office. He looks over at the bust of Mark Twain sitting in its lit alcove, the light goes gauzy and Clay walks over to the bust and starts singing plaintively to the bust.)
Samuel, my old friend Samuel
This place has gone to hell
What’s a guy to do?
It got so complicated
My life lies bifurcated
My soul’s been sliced in two.
(Mark Twain bust starts singing, too)
Clayton, my dear friend Clayton
Your whining’s fucking gratin’
Sac-up and kick some ass
you whinging worthless mass
Clay – But Sammy…
Twain – No butts
Clay – God damn me
Twain – such a putz
Clay – It’s all just slipping away
All those years and now we’re cool
And the whole thing’s slipping away
Beat up and teased, the losers at every school
Now, they’ve seen our worth
The geek shall inherit the earth
But these bitches and schemers
Are bilking us dreamers
Stealing the light from our day
Twain – (nonplussed) you don’t say.
(Gauzy light goes away. Clay looks at the once again solid bust and turns away).