I wish I could see his reaction to the gauntlet I’ve thrown, but it’s more important that we get to our destination without incident. I hear it, though. Boy, do I hear it.
“I’ll earn your secrets,” he says, his voice serious and steady. “I promise.”
It doesn’t surprise me that he wants to try. What surprises me is that I want him to. Unsettled and on edge, I scramble for something else to talk about. “Why don’t we discuss a plan for the presentation? That seems like a productive way to spend the next couple of hours.”
He blows out a slow breath and nods. “Good idea.” Then he quickly pulls a bag from the back seat and produces a notepad and pen, as though he’s just as eager as I am to move on. “So, I’ll confess that I didn’t have a good grasp on what wedding planners do on a day-to-day basis, but watching you in the past couple of weeks has been eye-opening. I’m thinking an approach that focuses on the different roles you play could be compelling. I mean, apart from making sure the actual wedding day goes off without a hitch, you wear so many hats: vendor intermediary, a location scout, a fashion consultant, a nutritionist, even a family counselor, and I’m sure there’s lots more. The trick is that when a couple starts to think about doing all those tasks on their own, it’ll sound overwhelming and rightly so. That could be one hook for your branding strategy.”
It’s gratifying to hear him speak about my work in such complimentary terms. People often assume wedding planners deal with trivial matters, but the weddings I handle involve complex family dynamics, test the strength of relationships, honor cultural customs and traditions, and embrace love and partnerships in all their iterations. It’s hardly fluff, and I would side-eye anyone who claimed otherwise. I’m glad to know Max doesn’t fall in that camp. “I like where this is headed. I’d like to focus on the practical ways I can help a couple. The types of tasks you can take off your to-do list if you hire me. That’s how I came up with the name Dotting the I Do’s.”
He chuckles. “That name’s perfect. In marketing parlance, we’d say that’s a great way to build brand recall. The name stands out in a crowd. But keep in mind that if you want your strategy to hit your target audience, you need to address the emotional aspect of wedding planning, too. Case in point, I talked to a few of your references and a common theme that emerged is . . .”
The hesitation in his voice is no surprise. “Let me guess: I’m not as friendly as they’d like me to be.”
He takes a deep breath and drops his chin. “Yes, something like that. Let me add, you got stellar reviews across the board, but if there’s one place that could use a tiny bit of improvement, it’s your perceived approachability.”
Ah, there’s that word again. The one that reminds me I’m never going to win any congeniality contests. My no-nonsense persona comes at a cost. I know this. Some people read it to mean more than it is. Words like unrelatable, unapproachable, and unlikable get thrown around. It hurts, but I can’t fault people for not seeing what I don’t show them. Plus, some will label me with those terms without knowing a single thing about me.
The irony of all this isn’t difficult to see: I need to make myself more palatable to counteract the effects of the persona I developed to hide the less palatable aspects of my personality. The notion makes my head spin; I mean, it’s not only a tongue twister but a mind twister, too.
“I’m sorry,” Max says. “It can’t be easy to hear that. Please know this is a marketing issue, not a you issue.”
I glance over at him. His eyebrows are drawn together as he doodles on his pad.
“Max, I get it. I’m a professional working in an industry that treats emotions as currency. I don’t gush or swoon or squee with my clients. That’s just not me. But if the perception that flows from not being touchy-feely is hindering my brand, then I’m willing to address it for the sake of the pitch. I owe it to my family to give it my best shot.”
“Your family?” he asks.
I drum my hands against the steering wheel. “Yeah, my family. My mother and aunts helped me start my business. Made a lot of sacrifices before then, too. I don’t want to let them down.”
“I’m sure that’ll never be the case.”
I wish I could say the same, but I can’t. I let them down once already. “So, I suppose you want to adopt a marketing hook that’ll soften my image. Is that the idea?”
He taps his pen against the pad again. “I wouldn’t exactly put it that way. See, it’s all about adopting a shorthand that will resonate with potential clients. An identity that’ll do the emotional work for you. I’m not suggesting we film you running through a field of daisies as wind whips through your hair, but I bet we could put our heads together and settle on a concept we’d both be happy with.”
I nod. “Now’s as good a time as any, right?”
“Right,” he says.
We spend the next hour brainstorming—and rejecting each other’s ideas.
“What about ‘the Wedding Whisperer’?” he asks.
I cringe, recalling my own nickname when dealing with Natalia. “Feels too hokey to me. Makes me think we’re playing into the stereotype of bridezillas who need to be tamed. And what would the logo look like anyway? A silhouette of me putting a bride in a choke hold?”
Max barks out a laugh. “Okay, okay, fair point.”
“How about a play on maid of honor? ‘Planner of Honor’?” I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’m so bad at this.”
“Don’t be discouraged. Trying and discarding ideas is part of the process.”
I spy a rest stop ahead and prepare to pull in. “Okay if we take a break? I need to use the restroom.”
He drops his pen and pad into his bag. “Of course.”
As I’m parking, he abruptly shifts in his seat and snaps his fingers. “I think I’ve got it. A play on the fairy godmother character. Instead, you’re the wedding godmother. You turn ordinary things into the stuff of dreams. Just when things seem hopeless, you sweep in and ensure a magical day. I’d need to massage the verbiage, but I think it could work. The key is that a godmother is that kind, helpful figure in your life. The person who’ll be there for you when you need a bit of comfort as things get hectic. It’ll make prospective clients envision that you’ll be there for them, guiding them every step of the way.”
I turn off the engine. “I like it, actually. Just as long as we emphasize that I do way more than pass out glass slippers. Oh, and if we need a tagline, I vote for ‘Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Bitch.’ A little truth in advertising never hurts, and it has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
Max just stares at me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
The corners of his mouth quirk up, then he says, “Who are you?”
I exit the car. Before I close the driver’s-side door, I bend down and wink at him. “Ah, Max. That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”
Not to be outdone, he winks right back at me. “You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to the search.”
On that note, I shut the door and scramble to the restroom. Oh my. This truce may be more than I bargained for.