The final click of the “s” on the keyboard seemed insignificant to him–a minor accomplishment. Another idea put to paper. Put to rest. The period put an end to it, forcing a nice clean statement. An exclamation point would not help to sell more bleach. He knows this.

Yet something was different about this “s.” It said everything he wanted to say.

In a few hours from now, he would present the idea in its entirety—the whole thing; the strategy and all. That presentation would set into motion a meteoric rise in his prestige around the office, he thought.

No one had been able to do what he had just done.

“Smells more like lemons,” he said out loud. “Smells more like lemons,” he said it again, this time changing the cadence just slightly—slower, so that everyone in the room felt the impact. He paused. Then said, “Everyone says that their product smells like lemons, but what we are saying is that ours smells m-o-r-e like lemons.” He paused between the words “saying” and “is” before he emphasized the more. The gravity of the idea was not lost, even in the silence that the entire room fell into.

Closing door of the conference room behind him silenced the hub-bub contained within as he step into the hallway. He had done his job. Now it was up to the people inside to close the deal without adding the exclamation point at the end of the headline.

He took the keyboard in hand, smiled a knowing smile, and changed the line to read, SMELLS MORE LIKE LEMONS! All caps, bold with the word “more” in Italics, and the word “Lemons” followed by an exclamation point. “Another day,” he thought as he leaned back in the chair, “another dollar fifty.”

He put his feet up onto his desk, waiting for the congratulatory, “You nailed it.” Also waited for the proverbial, “They loved it; they only have a few changes.”

Changes he just made.