Zack

It was Wednesday, hump day, and I just wasn’t feeling being there. I didn’t particularly like my job, but I am good at it. There were days when I hated to drag myself out of bed, to deal with traffic, to talk to people that I don’t want to talk to, about things I really don’t care about. But the mortgage had to be paid; so here I am, staring aimlessly out the window, drifting.

I’m tired; I have entirely too much work to do, not enough time, and definitely not enough money. In addition to Bandexx, I’ve got three other presentations due. I have got to find something else to sell. I wanna sell something a little more exciting than packaging, something I can really get involved in. But the money has got to be right. I mean, commission here is cool. As a matter of fact it’s pretty damn good, but too much work has to go into it before I see any money.

I had been in the office since seven that morning. It was almost ten o’clock and I was nowhere near finished doing what I’d set out to do. I haven’t left the office before ten any night this week or last week for that matter, and tonight would be no exception.

I got up and walked down the hall to get a 7UP and some chips. As I continued down the hall, I noticed that Ben’s door was open. Ben Clemente, the man. Sales rep of the year four years running.

The guy to beat.

Ben Clemente, willing to do whatever it took to close the deal. Once Ben was trying to close on a company and the buyer was a woman. It was almost Valentine’s Day and Ben remembered her saying that she wasn’t seeing anybody, so she wasn’t expecting to get any flowers. Now, instead of just sending her a dozen roses, Ben steals the company’s phone list and sends every woman in the company one red rose. That’s what makes him the man: his determination. He was in the office when I got there and he’s there most nights when I leave.

It made me feel a little better to know that he’s working hard, just like I was. And in a way it didn’t. Ben still had a hundred and fifty thousand-dollar lead on me. I wanted him to go home one of those nights, drop the ball, put his foot in it, crack up under pressure, do something, anything stupid, and hand me the lead. I knew in my heart that wasn’t going to happen.

If I was going to win, I would have to take it. He was the champ and he was ahead on points going into the championship rounds. I needed a knockout to beat him and Bandexx was my shot. “He’s going down,” I said out loud.

As I got closer to Ben’s office, I could hear him on the phone. Dealing. As I passed his office, Ben looked up and threw up his hand. By the time I got to the machines, I decided to add a pack of bacon cheddar crackers. I got my supply of junk food and made my way back to my office. Halfway up the hall, Ben came out.

“How’s it going, Ben?”

“Doing great, Zack,” Ben said, patting me on the back as we walked down the hall. Ben was a touchy, feely kinda guy. You know? Always tapping or nudging you when he talked. Like he had to make sure that he had your attention. “How are things going with Bandexx?”

“I should have them on paper in the next couple of weeks,” I said confidently, as we got to the door to my office.

“Well, anything I can’t do to help you, just let me know.”

“I just might take you up on that,” I said as I went in my office.

I sat down at my desk, opened my chips, and wondered if he really meant it. He watches the board every morning just like I do. He knows I’m on him, but maybe it wasn’t as big a deal to him. It wasn’t like he needed the free trip or the money, for that matter. Ben was paid. Big house on Lake Lanier, nice size yacht. His wife was a lawyer—nah, money ain’t it for him. Competition, that’s what Ben’s about. He had won the title five of the last six years.

In spite of all my efforts, Ben was cruising along, like he always does, with a comfortable lead on me. The last three weeks, I’d been ice cold. Couldn’t get anything to go. Even my so-called ‘hot leads’: deals I knew I could put together, either hadn’t made a decision or, if they had, they’d decided to go with another suppler they were looking at. To make matters worse, one of my oldest accounts, the bread that my check is buttered with, was actually making noises about getting outside quotes. And all this because I’ve been so preoccupied with Bandexx.

In the case of maintaining existing customers and pursuing new ones, I’d violated my first rule of a successful salesman: Stay in their face, by any means necessary, whether it’s in person or by phone, fax, mail or e-mail, or text. And I wasn’t doing that. I had focused all my attention on Bandexx. It seemed like every day, Dean had some change, some annoying little thing that he always needed “like yesterday, dude.” But I knew it would all be over soon and it would all be worth it. Once Bandexx was a done deal, I could tighten up on my old customers and get back to aggressively pursuing new ones.

The next day, I was back at work early in the morning. By midmorning, I had had enough and was thinking about going home when the phone rang. Patty told me that Dean Cabot with Bandexx was holding for me. This was the call I had been waiting for. I told Patty to transfer the call to me and I promptly asked Dean to hold on. I had made a preliminary presentation to Dean via e-mail, and he seemed mildly impressed by it. Dean had said to give him some time to review it and he’d get back to me.

I looked at my watch. It was a quarter to ten. It was a quarter to seven in California. If he actually reviewed it, he must only have questions. “Let him hold.”

Two minutes later I answered, “Thanks for holding, Dean. How can I help you?” I asked, feigning real interest.

“Zack, dude, sorry it took me so long to get back to you. The weekend was wild and it took me a couple of days to recover. But I had a blast.”

“What’d you do?”

“Tijuana,” Dean answered in his best attempt at an accent.

“Had a good time, huh?”

“Awesome. Zack, I had the time of my life. The sun was hot. The drinks were cold. And the women were warm and friendly. I just got back.”

“So what, are you just calling to rub it in?”

“No, nothing like that. I called to share. So each of us can draw strength from the sharing.”

“Yeah, right. You’re just trying to make me jealous. You California guys have got it made. The ocean, the beach. While I’m stuck here, four hours from water.”

“Plan on spending the weekend when you get out here and maybe, just maybe, I’ll take you around to some of the beaches while you’re out here.”

Tags: Roy Glenn Crime
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