A Professional Guide to Branding Medication

The Director of Marketing, who bore the unfortunate name of Cecil Gassy, dropped a small cloth bag on the conference room table. He asked, “What are we branding today, Wayne?”

Wayne Billings, the Assistant Director of Marketing, who earned half of the Director’s salary and did twice the work, was always prepared. The word on the rumor mill was that Gassy had accepted a position with an ad agency across town. That left the Directorship wide open. “We have a list,” Wayne said, swiping through documents on his tablet. He paused on a virtual page. “Let’s see. Weight loss drug. Diabetes meds. Two of those. Some skin thing. I think it’s a for psoriasis. Or scabies.”

Doctor Dennis was normally quiet during these monthly branding meetings because he was obsessed with his Twitter feed. Apparently, one of his posts had gone viral. In an uncharacteristically extroverted mood, Dennis spoke up. “Psoriasis. Scabies are little spiders that burrow into the skin. The only cure is removing the affected limb.”

Wayne’s eyes bulged, which enhanced his frog-like appearance. His warts were genetic. “Remove a limb? Really? Jesus.”

“No, not really,” Doc Dennis said, his gaze returned to his Twitter feed.

“What else?” Gassy asked.

“We should have R&D look into that scabies thing,” Wayne offered.

“Can we proceed?” Gassy asked. “I need to do some manscaping before my video date.”

Dennis, without removing his eyes from his cellphone screen, mumbled, “Lots of topical treatments for scabies.”

Gassy groaned. “Any others on the list?”

“I always get all those skin ones mixed up,” Wayne said. He wanted that director position and these types of errors would appear in his quarterly review. He tried to focus on his list. “Yes, well. One for, ah, incontinence. And one for anxiety. No. Two for anxiety. And one for impotence.”

“Didn’t we do that impotence one last month?” Gassy asked.

“That was Cocklargex. For male enhancement. We did that last month,” Dennis stated, while swiping his index finger frantically across his phone screen.

“Right. Any others?” Gassy asked. He drummed his fingers on the edge of the table.

Wayne shook his head. He looked up towards Gassy but avoided eye contact. Wayne’s last review said his eye-contact habits were intimidating. “Nope. Just those.”

“Let’s do the weight loss one last. Those are always tough. Too many triggers to consider,” Gassy said. “Let’s start with the skin one.” He lifted the brown cloth bag from the table and pulled apart the drawstring top. He dumped the bag’s contents onto the table. Scrabble tiles covered the tabletop. Gassy picked through and found the Q, X, Z, and two Y and two V tiles. He pushed them to the side. He swiped the remaining tiles back into the bag and shook it.

The clacking tiles reminded Wayne of a techno song he liked. “Are you picking or am I?” he asked.

“I’m the Director. I’ll pick,” Gassy said, pressing his fingers through the top of the bag. He dropped five tiles onto the table.

“Remember to choose at least six. The seven and eight letter names rated higher in the focus groups last month,” Wayne said, gesturing to the five letters Gassy had dropped on the table.

Gassy added a sixth letter from the bag. He regarded the pile. He had chosen B, R, M, and two E’s. The K gave them six.

“Oh, we drew vowels this time!” Dennis said as he placed his phone on the table.

In Wayne’s last performance review, branding was his only outstanding area. He didn’t intend to lose that feather in his cap. “I suggest Brekmex. It implies breaking a condition.”

Gassy nodded. “I was thinking Mexbrek. But I do like Brekmex. Let’s go with that. Doc?”

Doctor Dennis nodded. “We have lots to do today. I say note it and we can return to it to assess if we have time.”

“Done,” Gassy said, swiping the seven letters back into the bag. “Wayne, did you note that one?”

“I did. Brekmex. Break the psoriasis cycle,” Wayne stated with a lilt in his voice. That tag line will sound great as a jingle.

“Break the cycle of psoriasis plays better,” Dennis said.

Wayne noted the option on his tablet. “Maybe we do the anxiety ones next?”

Gassy was shaking the bag with the tiles. “It’s so frustrating when they release two treatments for the same condition. How are we to do our jobs? It’s like we have to compete against ourselves.”

“True,” Wayne agreed. He was upping that agreeable score for his performance review, that was for sure. Shoot for outstanding across the board.

“Are they creams or pills or what? Same symptom relief?” Gassy asked.

“I think,” Wayne began as he consulted the list, “I think both are pills. One makes you sleep through the anxiety attack and the other helps with the muscle tension.” He confirmed he was correct.

“Just symptom relief then? No cure?” Gassy asked.

Dennis guffawed. “Cure. That’s funny.”

“Just symptom masking. But the drugs differ for the symptoms they treat. The one for the muscle tension causes eventual blindness.” Wayne frowned.

“Let’s do that one first,” Gassy said. He flipped seven letters out of the bag. Three S’s, two E’s, and an L. Gassy smiled. “That’s fortuitous! How about Seeslyxs. You will see less muscle pain.”

“Brilliant,” Dennis said. “And we can point to the name when the lawsuits start. We warned you that you’d be blind. Where is Hoffsteader, anyway?”

Hoffsteader, the company lead counsel, often missed branding meetings. The team would complete the process and send her the list. She would perform a legal risk assessment of each name and approve or disapprove the selections. Typically, she approved the list and had only taken issue with three terms in the last year. She axed Fuxtreat to address vaginal dryness. Said the censors would fine the company. Plavixy was too similar to another brand’s medicine. Hoffsteader never enjoyed trademark defense. And she questioned Exflabby, the appetite control treatment. Said it was insensitive. But without a legal basis to criticize it, the company rolled with it.

“She’s not coming. She’s still in New York on that wrongful death defense for Pumpyxis,” Gassy said.

“Still? I thought all the plaintiffs settled that case,” Dennis said.

Gassy shook his head as he returned the letters to the bag and shook gently. “One hold out in New Jersey. Said her husband’s heart exploded during Sunday breakfast. Blood all over the omelets.”

Dennis’ chair creaked as he leaned back. “Technically, he didn’t suffer a heart attack.”

“Yes, technically, our medicine worked,” Gassy said. “But I guess that woman’s looking to retire on our dime.”

“People are so selfish. And materialistic,” Dennis said as he removed his Rolex and stretched his manicured hands. “It’s a wonder companies like ours survive this litigious society.”

Gassy pulled letters from the bag. “This is for the other anxiety medication.” He removed T, P, two Ls, a D, and an R. “I don’t know what the hell to do with that mess.”

Wayne offered, “It causes extreme drowsiness. The patient sleeps through the anxiety attack.” He read from his tablet. “A ninety percent effective rate.”

“No vowels,” Dennis said. “Looks like we use several Ys.”

“Looks like,” Gassy said, rearranging the tiles with the tip of his pinky. “Wayne? Did we agree we can duplicate the letters we pick from the bag?”

Wayne nodded. “I can retrieve the minutes from the quarterly meeting. That’s where we voted on that rule.” His helpfulness rating was needs improvement for the past two quarters.

“Not necessary,” Gassy said. “What about Tyrpyd? Like torpid?”

“You don’t want to use the L?” Dennis asked.

“I don’t see where it would fit,” Gassy said.

“And no X or Z?” Wayne asked. “We need seven letters, at least. And management wants us to use Xs and Zs in every brand if we can. We could add it on the end. Like Tyrpydx or Tyrpydz?”

“I like Tyrpydz. Very impressive,” Dennis said.

Gassy frowned. “I guess I can agree with that.” He shoved the letters back into the bag.

Wayne adjusted his seat. Perhaps he had overstepped. His quarterly review was scheduled for next week. Every move was critical at this point. “You used a Y, sir. I’m not sure we need the Z.”

“I like the Z,” Dennis said. “I’m voting for the Z.”

Gassy shook the bag. The tiles clacking sounded less like techno and more like acid metal. “Use the Z. It’s fine.”

Wayne wondered how Gassy could often sound like Wayne’s wife. Did it’s finemean it was fine? Was it fine? Dear god, his job was on the line. He scanned the letters Gassy had selected. What drug were they naming? “Which do you want to tackle next, sir?”

Gassy pursed his thin lips and rearranged the selected tiles. “Considering what I picked, I’m thinking we select for the incontinence one.” He poked at the letter pile separating the T and N. The rest were a K, an I, and two Ls. He chuckled. “We have to do it.”

“Management will reject it,” Dennis said.

“They rarely reject your suggestions, sir. I say we go with it,” Wayne said.

Gassy arranged the letters to spell Xtynkill. He rearranged them to spell Xtinkyll. “That’s better. We want to avoid obvious death triggers, I suppose. Otherwise, I like it. Note it, Wayne.”

“Already have, sir. What’s next?” Wayne asked.

Gassy slid the Y to the reserved pile and replaced the remaining loose letters into the bag. “Let’s just draw and be inspired.” He shook the bag and withdrew a W, two Ss, two Es, and an N. He fiddled with patterns. “Tell me about those diabetes drugs, Wayne.”

“One is to lower A1C. It’s the same one we released last year. They just want it renamed and rebranded. The notes say they think sales for the newly named one will skyrocket since consumers will think it’s better than the one with the old name.”

“Right. I know the one to which you’re referring. Had a long call about how sales crashed. Ineffectiveness was the primary complaint. And the vomiting.” Gassy shrugged. “I agreed that new branding, while leaving the original version on the market, can revitalize the product. And what’s the other drug?”

Wayne swiped pages on his tablet. “That one is for Type One folks.”

“That’s the one for which I consulted,” Dennis said. “They wanted to charge thirty an injection. Preposterous.”

George scanned the digital page. “Says they settled on seven-hundred an injection.”

“Finally, someone in accounting offered a sensible price,” Dennis said. “Thirty dollars is preposterous.”

Gassy arranged the letters he had selected. He ignored the P and added a Y and an X from the reserve pile. The line of tiles read Desyrix. “Oh, that’s got to be the weight loss drug name.”

“That was easy,” Dennis said, adding a nod.

Wayne typed the name into his tablet. He watched Gassy return the tiles to the bag, mix, and draw six new letters.

“I have no idea what to do with this,” Gassy said. He rearranged the tiles several times, settling on a final order: VILPNG.

Wayne brightened. “How about Lyvingz? For the injection one. Tag line: Choose Lyvingz.”

“Oh, I didn’t see that. Well done, Wayne,” Dennis said.

“The P was distracting me,” Gassy said. He swiped the letters into the bag before he realized he had mistakenly discarded the Z and Y. He dug through the depths of the sack and withdrew the two reserve letters. He set them aside. “I’m not on my A game today.”

“Your D game is anyone else’s A game, boss,” Wayne offered too quickly. That comment could be seen as insincere. Which it was. Wayne hoped it would be a positive on his interpersonal evaluation.

“I maintain we should score our efforts. Certainly would make the time fly,” Dennis said. He had suggested keeping score for years.

Wayne had voted against score keeping. This wasn’t a competition between them. Most of the words were his creations, and taking a competitive approach to these meetings would only increase Gassy’s negative feelings. Wayne could abstain from offering his word suggestions, but if he let the others take control, these meetings would need to be weekend retreats. “Let’s knock out these other two, gentlemen.”

“Agreed. Mix away, Gassy!” Dennis said with a flourish of his hand.

Gassy mixed and selected six letters: DEURTI. He shook his head. “Now we get three vowels.”

The other two men were silent while Gassy rearranged the letters. They watched as he added the X and remove the X. Add the Y and remove the Y. Add the Z and the Y. Remove both. Dennis returned to scrolling his Twitter feed.

Wayne swallowed hard. He sipped his water. His forthright and risk scores were far too low to qualify for a promotion. He forced himself to speak. “What about Reduxti? For the A1C one.”

“Brilliant, Wayne!” Dennis blurted. “You are spot on today!”

Wayne’s face flushed. “I had extra espresso shots this morning.”

“Obviously,” Gassy said. “Log it. And let’s get this last one done.” Gassy swiped the letters from the table. The D flew and hit the conference room door.

Wayne scrambled to retrieve the loose letter. He placed it on the table before Gassy, who grumbled a thank you, which sounded more like I hate you and I hate this job. But Wayne might have been mistaken. He returned to his chair and feigned having a text on his mobile.

Gassy drew six new letters. “This is for the blue pill alternative.” The letters were: IGBCOS. Gassy frowned and leaned back in his chair. “No idea.”

“This is a tough one,” Dennis leaned forward. He poked the pile of letters with his forefinger. He added the reserve letters to the pile.

Wayne smiled. “We only need the X.”

“The X?” Dennis asked.

“The X.” Wayne reached towards the pile and rearrange the letters to demonstrate his idea. “Hoffsteader might object, but I think the branding is priceless.”

Dennis smiled. “I’d buy that product. Absolutely. Brilliant, again, Wayne.”

“I’m having a great day,” Wayne said.

Gassy put his hands behind his head and leaned all the way back in his chair. “I wouldn’t need that product. But I agree, the name is perfect. You are well on your way towards that directorship, Wayne.” He closed his eyes. “Now, clean all this up and get me some lunch.”

Wayne hustled.