Marketing Maestro. Morning Multi-Tasker. Mama’s Boy. Wake up with Metronome3 founder Max Kimble at his Wall Street apartment.

“Basically, my morning is all about where my day is going.”

Max Kimble works a lot. About the only time he isn’t working is when he’s hanging out before work with his fiancé, Amy. When we arrive at their Wall Street home, the pair is parked (per usual) on the living room couch. The Today Show hums in the background. Max taps intently away at his iPhone. “He’s always on that thing,” Amy whispers to us. Max snaps out of it and smiles before reaching over and hugging her playfully — “You know you’ve got all my attention in the morning!”

Kimble, from Long Bridge, New Jersey, is one of three co-founders of Metronome3, a full service, digital media agency based here in New York. Metronome3’s recent spinoff agency – Simmer Group –focuses specifically on the hospitality world. Clients they’ve worked with include Dos Toros and Lemonade.

“Amy and I wake up around 6:00 or 6:30, the Today Show goes on, Amy jumps into the bathroom first, and then I’ll do my thing afterwards,” Max tells us as he prepares coffee. “Then we’ll sit and chat for an hour or so before we leave the house – planning the week, looking forward to the weekend… it’s our time together before we go off into the craziness.” Max smiles. “This planning session also dictates how I’ll dress for the day (today: a spread collar shirt and jeans – Max is interviewing a potential creative director after work, so a T-shirt won’t cut it). “Basically, my morning is all about where my day is going.”

Max isn’t big on breakfast (“I’ll have a banana if I’m lucky”) and doesn’t need to shave all that often (“This is three weeks scruff!” Amy teases him.) Max sips his coffee and he’s back at the iPhone. Pretty soon it’s time for his daily pilgrimage to Citi Bank. “I handle finances for the company, so I actually walk up to a teller every day and drop off checks,” he says as we ride the elevator down. “So, it’s great that the bank is practically in the lobby.” Max’s green Italia 1701 scooter, meanwhile, is parked at the South Street Seaport, a half-mile jaunt from his front door– a walk he happily endures on warm days like today.

The Seaport’s cobblestone streets are practically empty at this hour and the empty bars and restaurants are quiet. Max strides along in measured steps. He locates his scooter on a side street, eases on his helmet and prepares himself for the seven-minute ride to work.

“It’s our time together before we go off into the craziness.”

Just then, his phone rings. Max excuses himself and chats loudly over the hum of the trucks passing by. After a few minutes, he hangs up. “That was my mom,” he says. “She has a vegan cookie company and I’m in the process of rebranding it, you know, as a side project.” He smiles knowingly. As he pulls into traffic we wonder what Amy thinks about this. Before we can decide, Max is gone.