The client was a new medical spa, a concept that was big in Europe and L.A., but was just making it to the Washington area. (A medical spa is like a typical day spa, offering hair, nail and skin care, but with the addition of an on-staff physician who offers Botox injections and outpatient plastic surgery.)
The Post's consumer reporter was intrigued by this new trend, and did a very positive story which ran, as I said, on the front page of the Washington Post, by far the paper's biggest day for circulation. The story featured our client prominently, and included two photos taken inside the spa.
That Monday morning, everyone involved in the project was beside themselves with excitement. I figured the client would send over a case of champagne and ofer to wash my car for the rest of the year.
I was wrong.
The client called bitching about the photos (two, remember) that the Post had run, because "they didn't show the people I wanted them to show, and I told the photographer what to photograph."
The audacity of the Post, allowing their photographer to shoot what HE thought was a good photo.
The account executive was floored, and blurted out something a little earthier than he should have: "Are you kidding me? Every client we have would give their left nut for a story on the front page of the Sunday Post."
The client whined about the photos a bit more, and then hung up. I was as deflated as could be.
Apparently, there really are some people who can't be satisfied.
That client is now out of business. I think the moral of the story is obvious.