Their marketing manager is not in his office
His staff do not know where he is
He is in constant touch
On the top deck of a bus
He leans forward to hear a couple talk
He slips out of the back row of our seminars
Before the lights come up
And emerges from the cloakroom
Mingling with our customers, head slightly inclined
He listens with a faint smile
In trains, taxis
His ears are everywhere
Hearing him at industry conferences
Our customers gasp and laugh
He stares moodily from café windows
He owns the rain-swept street