EVERY YEAR ONCE AGAIN—THE CLIENT GIFT
JANUARY
“Dear Dr. Keller; I’m pleased to return your good wishes and send heartfelt thanks for the lovely calendar ‘Toggenburg in Seasonal Splendor,’ which we received as always with great joy. Warm regards, yours, P. Probst.”
Keller is puzzled. “Toggenburg in Seasonal Splendor?” But this year was “Railway Bridges of Switzerland”? Or was that last year? No, last year was “A Bird’s-Eye View of Mountain Passes,” to which “Railway Bridges of Switzerland” was a natural follow-up. He phones Mrs. Trösch. “‘Toggenburg in Seasonal Splendor,’ does that mean anything to you?”
“I often visited Toggenburg as a child,” answers Mrs. Trösch, somewhat perplexed.
“We didn’t send out a calendar with that name this year?”
“No, it was called ‘Railway Bridges of Switzerland.’”
“I know, I know,” grumbles Dr. Keller and hangs up. Then there must have been some mix-up, since Probst is hardly sarcastic. There’s always the possibility that he received another calendar from someone else.
Keller has never claimed that the calendar idea was particularly original. It is more the choice of subjects and their thematic coherence that have been a source of some pride to him until now. “Toggenburg in Seasonal Splendor” seems to him rather arbitrary though. Nevertheless, if someone as meticulous as Peter Probst could mix up the calendar with “Railway Bridges of Switzerland”… Perhaps he ought from time to time to reconsider his conception of the client gift. No, it’s hardly sacrosanct.
FEBRUARY
Over the course of the last year Dr. Keller has had to make many decisions, which now, as he looks back over it all, continue to preoccupy him. But that in favor of “Railway Bridges of Switzerland” is not one of them. Only once, as he looks over the balance sheets and comes across the line for “Client Gifts,” does he pause for a moment out of a subconscious response to vague loose ends.
And later on once more, while traveling over a bridge on the Rhaetian Railway en route to his ski vacation, he thinks Railway Bridges? That was a good one.
MARCH
Dr. Keller returns from his ski vacation with a tan. It lends him a certain dynamic air, he thinks, that calls for corresponding action. In search of problems that one might approach with more force than deliberation, he returns to the issue of the client gift. Of course it would be a bit forcibly proactive to have this problem resolved as early as March. But he could deal with it once and for all.
Thus Dr. Keller suppresses the issue of the “calendar concept” at first. So that no one will think, “does he really have no other concerns?” he buries it offhandedly in a memo entitled “Outdated Customs,” in order to ease up some gridlock, and to gather the courage to put into question some supposedly tried-and-true practices. The “calendar concept” is only one of a number of examples, along with, e.g., “overtime compensation,” “office retreat,” and “inflation offset.”
APRIL
His mountain tan has faded, and as his complexion blanches, so daily business returns to its habitual dullness. Dr. Keller has to manage a tight budget. Whatever doesn’t need to be done today has no priority. And long-term projects like the Christmas client gift are a complete extravagance. Something that a man in the position of a role model like Dr. Keller can by no means allow himself these days.
But Stefan Buser, who represents a publisher of (among other things) calendars, keeps himself from being forgotten by offering Mrs. Trösch a handsome booklet of twenty-five strawberry recipes.
MAY
As Dr. Keller spends precious time waiting for a taxi, his gaze happens to fall upon the new month’s picture in “Railway Bridges of Switzerland,” which hangs on the wall behind Mrs. Bucher at the reception desk. It displays an elegant viaduct in the Schinschlucht ravine. A pioneering achievement. The leitmotif that runs through all the calendars that the firm sends at year’s end to its current (and prospective) clients. That was the sense to be taken from “A Bird’s-Eye View of Mountain Passes” and “Hydroelectricity,” a collection of twelve spectacular images of dams, always in the appropriate seasonal context. Seen in this light, Dr. Keller’s concept for the client gifts is actually quite original, since it is not simply to send out calendars, but moreover to offer varied interpretations of “pioneering ideas,” a concept to which the company has committed itself from day one. “Railway Bridges of Switzerland” accords with this philosophy; it is programmatic without neglecting aesthetics. It sets a high bar, thinks Dr. Keller. It won’t be easy to find something on par with it. In the taxi he makes a note for himself. “Client gifts?”
JUNE
Imboden is back from his vacation to Scotland. He takes over the management meeting with the suggestion of smoked salmon. A meaningful Christmas gift, directly from the Scottish smokehouse. Imboden offers a small sampling, lays out the costs (shipping and handling from the smokehouse, gradations in weight based on the importance of each client to the company, personalized holiday greeting).
The idea isn’t bad. If only it hadn’t come from Imboden. But scathing rejections are offered one by one: “Isn’t it a little early for salmon?” (Rüetschi). “And a little early for Christmas?” (Hess). “Wasn’t there some news about worms in salmon? Or antibiotics or something?” (Baumann). “Salmon are known as the pigs of the sea.” (Gruber).
Dr. Keller, who will not, even regarding client gifts, relinquish innovations to Imboden, alludes to a conceptual weakness: “It’s not compelling, that’s what concerns me.”
“It completely implies ‘pioneering ideas,’” Imboden fights back. “The elements (wind, water, fishing), innovation (direct shipping from the catch), and bilateral relations (Switzerland–Scotland).”
“Nothing against Scotland, but what’s always fascinated me most about Dr. Keller’s calendar idea is the Swiss connection to ‘pioneering ideas,’” Rüetschi throws in.
This remark prompts Baumann to speak up again for tactical career reasons. “On the other hand, it couldn’t hurt to signal a sense of openness in the client gift policy.”
After a short discussion all are united against smoked salmon, but without prejudice in connection to a possible international solution. Dr. Keller determines never to allow the question of the client gift to slip out of his control. Client gifts are the tasks of bosses.
JULY
On vacation in Provence with a couple from Uster, who have been renting the house diagonally under him for years, Rüetschi meets an artist from Lausanne, who specializes in provincial landscapes depicting things as they actually look. The encounter has no immediate consequences, but should be remembered in retrospect as the developments of October/November become clear.
Baumann, who, on the way to Rimini with his family, makes a stop at a Tuscan estate that he remembers fondly from a leadership seminar, comes upon the idea of Vino da Tavola with individually designed labels, a service that the Swiss owner of the estate (pioneering ideas, international openness, plus Switzerland!) offers. Tasteful labels, surprisingly affordable and moreover shipped directly from the vineyard. For the rest of the trip he considers various notes for the tags and is finally satisfied with “Buon anno!” He enjoys the double meaning (both Happy New Year and have a good year). From time to time you must leave your troubles behind to approach things creatively.
AUGUST
A group of merry men in slightly unfashionable bathing suits wave from the banks of the Saane to the highspeed train as it whistles past across a vertiginously high bridge. A lovely image, thinks Dr. Keller as he greets Mrs. Bucher at reception on his first day back from his summer vacation. Along with “pioneering ideas” it presents the whole symbolism of different languages within Switzerland. The wholly unproblematic triumph over internal divisions.
He often thought about the client gift on vacation. And with this concrete result: he has decided to form a committee. That way the initiative remains his own, even as he delegates the work. He has also thought over the members: Imboden, because he already sought to take the task upon himself in June; Rüetschi, because of his comment during the last discussion of the issue that gave the impression, at least in this case, that he agreed conceptually with Dr. Keller; and Baumann, out of considerations of competitive strategy.
At the close of the first management meeting after the vacation, under “Miscellaneous,” the committee is formed and sets a deadline: mid-October.
As he walks past Rüetschi’s door a little later, he hears him say twice, loud and clear, “fucking gift.” Dr. Keller smiles, but makes a note as well.
SEPTEMBER
Baumann has the natural advantage with his “Buon anno!” He can arrive to the first meeting totally relaxed and listen to what the others have to offer. He’ll keep “Buon anno!” up his sleeves for the opportune moment.
Imboden’s position isn’t bad, either.
He has a Swiss variation of smoked salmon in mind: gravlax from a Swiss farm. Pioneering ideas, innovation, internationality, and nevertheless a national connection. The one drawback is the price. It is well over that of its imported Scottish variation. But what can be done given such strict Swiss guidelines?
Only Rüetschi’s contribution remains up in the air, and he is forced to consult with his wife the night before the meeting. Something that he does only in emergencies regarding work problems, because he has the impression that it undermines his authority in this domain as well. But this time he’s glad to have included her, since she rapidly, remarkably rapidly, brings the name Pierre into the mix.
“Pierre?” Rüetschi asks.
“Pierre Dubuis, the artist. The one at Bischoff ’s in Provence. The joker. With the landscapes.”
“The drunk?” Rüetschi recalls the artist from Lausanne with the provincial landscapes. Maybe he can paint pioneering ideas on commission as well.
The first meeting of the client gift committee was held at the end of September and adjourned until the beginning of October.
OCTOBER
When Rüetschi enters the meeting room and finds it empty, he turns around. He doesn’t want to be the first in for tactical reasons. After a calculated delay Imboden turns up in the meeting room, looks angrily at the clock when he finds it empty, and turns around. At the door he meets Rüetschi. “On your way to the meeting, too?” the latter asks.
“Which meeting?” Imboden responds.
The meeting room is empty when they finally go in together. They’ve barely sat down when the main office rings. Mr. Baumann has called from his car. He’s on his way.
Until Baumann’s arrival they take care to avoid the issue of the client gift. Neither thinks it wise to prematurely show his hand. But while they sit there and wait, the determination of each grows firmer to shoot down Baumann’s suggestion, no matter what it is, and however inspired it may be.
They do it, too. Successfully, but at a great cost. There’s not a shred left of Baumann’s “Buon anno!” at the end of the first client gift meeting. But gravlax from a Swiss farm is wiped out, too. And “Tradition/Vision,” a limited series of signed twelve-color prints by Pierre Dubuis, is on its last legs. They compare their calendars, set a new meeting date, and make an orderly withdrawal.
Stefan Buser, the publisher’s representative, is on his way to Mrs. Trösch, to tentatively show her the calendar “Between the Sky and Earth,” cable cars of Switzerland, a theme that in his opinion adheres quite nicely to his client’s pioneer concept. As he passes a half-open door in the hallway of the management floor, he hears someone saying “fucking Christmas client gifts” three times, loud and clear.
NOVEMBER
“So where do we actually stand regarding the client gifts?” Dr. Keller asks at an already contentious management meeting. Imboden, Baumann, and Rüetschi exchange reproachful glances.
“Things are coming along,” Rüetschi says.
“Any plans to loop me in?” Dr. Keller pointedly asks.
Rüetschi seizes the opportunity. “We’re thinking about something very interesting at the moment. Pierre Dubuis. ‘Tradition/Vision.’ A limited series, signed. Art. Something a little different this time.”
Imboden totally loses it. “I thought that was off the table. Like ‘Buon anno!’”
“Or gravlax from a Swiss farm,” Baumann adds, to round things out.
“It’s November, gentlemen. November!” interjects Dr. Keller. In the silence that follows, Baumann lets a sentence drop that proves him to be the better tactician indeed. And the true contender to succeed Dr. Keller: “Why must we subject ourselves to this gift-giving nightmare every year?”
“What do you suggest?” Dr. Keller snaps back.
Baumann leans back. “We take the money that the gift would cost, transfer it to a charitable organization, and write a letter to our clients that explains that we regard this as the more sensible way forward in today’s times. Do good and talk about it.”
“Not exactly original, either,” remarks Rüetschi, and gazes hopefully at Dr. Keller.
But he is considering it; a dangerous reaction. When Dr. Keller considers for any length of time an idea that did not originate with him, then it is only in order to tack something onto it, to make it suitable, and to make it his own. “How much did we aim to spend?” he finally asks.
“Thirty thousand,” answers Imboden.
“Then we transfer fifteen thousand to the Red Cross. But we don’t need to state the amount in the letter.”
Rüetschi attempts one last time to make up some ground. “Nothing against social engagement, but are we underestimating here the fundamental purpose of Dr. Keller’s calendar idea? Our year-round presence, impossible to overlook, among our clients?”
Baumann immediately notes how dangerous the objection is, and reacts with noteworthy elegance: “We can always include a calendar. Only it need not be as luxurious as in the past. On the contrary, it suits the giving spirit more if it appears more low-cost.”
Dr. Keller considers. “Fifteen thousand francs, calendar and shipping included. If we find an adequate one, that should leave enough for the Red Cross. If necessary we forgo the message of pioneering ideas. Baumann, you take care of it.”
Baumann maintains the dignity of a good victor for the rest of the meeting. Straight after, he goes to Mrs. Trösch, who puts him in touch with one Stefan Buser, a dependable calendar salesman.
When Buser realizes that “Between the Sky and Earth,” cable cars of Switzerland, won’t work for these clients for conceptual reasons, he sells Baumann a calendar for which he can offer him a good deal since it’s been selling well for the third season running.
DECEMBER
In the last week before Christmas the current (and prospective) clients receive a personally signed letter from Dr. Keller that explains that in lieu of an elaborate Christmas gift, they have thought it better to make a considerable donation to the Red Cross.
The envelope contains a calendar: “Toggenburg in Seasonal Splendor.”
1995