I'm finally in Pennsylvania but now it's raining. I've got my head scrunched down because I keep forgetting to replace these damn windshield wipers and I can only see clearly through the bottom four inches of the windshield. I just got some gas using a little plastic thing the Mobil Company sent me to hang on my key ring. I hold it next to the pump and the machine goes on, I pump my gas and a receipt comes out. Neat clean and fast. And without human contact. I'm not sure that I want to go back to the old way of getting gas, but I know I miss communicating with another person. We seem to have made a giant circle as a society. From our days of complete independence and total self-reliance, pre-twentieth century, we've now become a society where you do everything on your own again. The difference is now you get computers, computer chips and state of the art phone systems to assist you. Some would say viva la difference, I say as a lonely guy, it's just more opportunity to be lonely.
The Sunday I made the firm decision to go back and revisit my childhood wasn't the day I began to do it. I can't remember what rationalization I used but it apparently made enough sense for me to be able to postpone it to the following weekend. That workweek was rather memorable in its own right. Anytime Bob Tyler came into town everyone he came in contact with was left with lasting memories. He was the national sales manager for one of our few remaining large accounts. His company was Ruggero Italian Brands, frozen pizzas and a few other frozen Italian items. They paid around six hundred thousand dollars a year in commission and if we could ever make a friggin' number for these guys we'd get another hundred grand. He was a strange man to begin with and their local guy, Tommy Burns had told us that he'd be coming in to "get to the bottom of why we kept fuckin' up." Tommy had called Jim the previous week with a heads up and we'd all been planning strategy since then.
The meeting with Tyler and Burns was set for Wednesday afternoon, giving us a couple of days to firm up our plan. The problem was we still didn't have a plan. We hadn't been making their numbers because the competition was kicking our ass. And they were kicking our ass because we didn't have enough clout in the New York market to overcome the fact we weren't getting enough promotional dollars to work with from Ruggero. A big, failure guaranteeing circle to be sure but if we told him that, he'd be interviewing other brokers within a month.
Scully had called a meeting for ten A.M. in his office on Monday morning. He asked Jim to bring Rick Jordan, nominal head of our headquarters salesmen and me. Rick was a good guy but he had a host of other responsibilities, principally account executive for three major lines including Ruggero and Jim, knowing that had for the most part taken over the responsibility of leading our salesmen. We were all there on time but as usual, Scully was late for his own meeting. To say he staggered in would be a bit strong but only a bit. He looked and smelled like he'd been drinking a lot over the weekend and the first thing he did, before saying hello to any of us, was to call out to Ruth--we called her Ruthless, she made Nurse Ratchet look and sound like Mother Theresa-- to bring him some water. Water was his own prescription for a hangover and the more he drank the worse you knew he felt.
Ruthless got his water and had it on his desk in a flash. I noticed, as I had on any number of occasions, that the sour demeanor of Jack's loyal secretary changed rather dramatically when she had the opportunity for any kind of interaction with him. She apparently saw something in Jack that was escaping the rest of the world.
His office was of medium size, thick tan carpet and paneled walls filled with plaques celebrating sales achievements. In the time we were waiting for him to come in I took an eye tour of those plaques and noticed the most recent one was dated nineteen ninety-one. No surprise there. What stood out mostly was his desk. It was a massive old oak piece of furniture, virtually void of anything on it save for a desk lamp, pad and pen. And behind it was placed a leather chair that, as large as the desk was, still looked far too large for the desk. Jim once said something about it being large enough for the Andrews Sisters to do a show in it. Typical Jim, I had to go to the library to find out they were some old World War Two singing trio that made a few movies with Bob Hope and Bing Crosby. Jim had an unbelievable wealth of what he called "useless knowledge", what you or I would call trivia and he clearly took great pleasure at using it to keep us all guessing. If it were anyone else I'd say he did it to impress people but those of us who knew him knew better.
When Jack finally addressed us he posed a simple question, "Okay, men, what are we going to do to get Tyler off our backs this time?" "This time" was a reference to the fact that Tyler's not-very-subtle threats to get some other food broker to represent Ruggero had become a regular occurrence. This would be the fourth straight year we'd have had one of his heart to hearts and Jim felt he was getting close to firing us. In our meetings the previous week, without Scully, we'd kicked around several options to present to Tyler but we'd come to no conclusion. Or rather Jim had come to no conclusion, it was his decision. But he seemed to be very ready to answer the old man's question that morning.
"Jack, I've gone through the options based on our situation and our track record over the last few years with Ruggero. My advice is we promise to reinvest a hundred grand of our commissions to kick-start our business. I've got a list of where and how the money would be spent and it's impressive, we could really have a shot at making our number. And if we did we'd make most of the hundred grand back in bonus the first year. If we don't do this we'll miss our number, get no bonus and probably lose the account, which I don't need to remind you will be worth around six hundred thousand dollars this year."
"Thirty years in the business and that's the best you can come up with? That I spend my own money to sell his shit? We don't do that stuff, you know that."
His tone and facial expression matched his words but Jim seemed to be totally unaffected. they'd been friends for thirty-five years and Jim had gone to work for him a few years after they'd gone to college together, but he was more than used to the fact that Jack only spoke to him slightly better than any of his other employees.
"I've thought about this all weekend Jack and I'm completely convinced we have no option here. We do it or we lose it. I've got no plan B."
"Maybe I should sell this fuckin' business. Just give all our accounts to the highest bidder. Fuck all these bloodsuckers." Jack knew he had less to sell each time some account fired us, that he would be bought out for far less than the company was worth just a few years ago and he would then have nothing to do with his life. He didn't play golf, he didn't follow sports, he didn't like to travel and he and his wife appeared to care little for each other. And he had no friends. If you asked him he'd probably tell you Jim was his best friend and Jim hated his guts. Hell, I had more friends than he did!
"We've got no choice Jack, even if we present this to Tyler it's no guarantee, he may be here to cut our nuts off this time no matter what. But it's our only hope."
"I've got to be the one Jim, it's my dough and I'll make the offer. Make a list of the bullet points on how you've decided we're going to spend MY MONEY, I'll pitch him."
I didn't have to even look at Jim to know he didn't like that idea one bit. Scully wasn't only abrasive he had become incompetent over the years. Totally incapable of doing anything more than read words. If Tyler asked him a question one of us would have to find a way to answer it without making the old man look worse than he would already be looking. But now it was Jim who knew he had no choice.
"I'll have a paper prepared with all the key elements spelled out in the easiest form to explain to him. You'll do fine and we'll all be there to lend you a hand."
"I don't want Rick and Sean there, just the two of us." He spoke as if we weren't in the room.
"Jack, these guys are part of the program, Tyler could ask things best answered by them, not you or I. I feel strongly that they be present, very strongly."
"Get me the information as soon as you can, I want time enough to be able to feel comfortable with it." He said that after swiveling his giant chair away from us, his signal that he was done and we should leave.
As soon as we were outside of Scully's office Jim said that Jack would have to live as long as those old, yogurt eating Russian Mountain men to have enough time to feel comfortable presenting anything we gave him.
Tyler and Tommy Burns were supposed to be at our place for an eat-in lunch Wednesday with the meeting to follow. At eleven o'clock that day we got a call saying they wouldn't be able to make it until sometime between three and four. My first thought was they were probably going around checking supermarkets, looking at how their products were positioned on the shelves, Jim's first thought was that the old man might spend the afternoon drinking. He went to Scully's office to tell him of the change in plans and came back to tell Rick and me that Jack said he had "things to do" for the next few hours anyway. Jim just shook his head at his own words.
The four of us got to the meeting room at two thirty to make sure we were prepared. I had overheads, some with statistics, some with pictures of giant displays of Ruggero products in New York stores, all geared to show Tyler what a great job my retail sales people were doing. Rick had overheads touting his own people but neither of us thought we would get the opportunity to use them. As it turned out, we were right.
Tyler was an odd fellow. He was bald on top and the hair on the sides of his head was totally gray. Combine that with glasses and thirty extra pounds and he looked to be in his early sixties. Tommy told us he and a group of Tyler's sales managers went on a fishing trip and he got to see his fishing license. He said he almost dropped dead when he saw the guy was born in nineteen fifty-five. Apparently the fact that, by his own account he smoked four packs of Camels per day, drank twenty cups of coffee and slept no more than four hours a night was catching up with him. And when he drank, Tommy said, he would drink everybody under the table.
Bob Tyler, for all his idiosyncrasies, was a brilliant man with a firm knowledge and grasp of his business and a clearer understanding of ours than Jack Scully currently had. He was always a formidable opponent in a debate and we had found that, regrettably, honesty had been the best policy in dealing with him. I know that's what Jim was thinking when he came up with the "reinvestment plan".
In our preparation with Scully that afternoon it was very obvious that he'd been drinking. He smelled mostly of mouthwash but that wouldn't last. And his attention span was shorter than usual. We all knew we were motoring into rough water, maybe being sucked down rapids toward the falls would be a better analogy.
At a few minutes before four Tyler and Burns walked in. Tyler immediately apologized and said they had wanted to look at some stores the day before but didn't get the chance so they had to do it that day. He looked right at me,
"Stores looked good Murphy, got no complaints." Bob Tyler sometimes spoke in shorthand but there was never a problem in understanding what his message was.
We did the perfunctory handshake thing as he spoke and Jim motioned us all to have a seat. Tyler started to sit down in the middle of the long conference table until he saw Jack sit at an end. Tyler got up and walked to the opposite end, now he would be sitting nearly twenty feet away from Scully. A smooth move made to make the little boy pleading for one more chance even more uncomfortable, quintessential Bob Tyler.
"Okay Jack, what do you have for us?" Tyler had his chin resting on his hands resting on his elbows.
"Bob, we've done a lot of soul searching and we've decided that desperate times call for desperate measures." That was my line, Jim liked it and we listed it at the top of Jack's bullet points. He actually delivered it quite well.
"We've been having a tough time making our numbers with your fine products for the last few years and we've decided the only way to turn that around and make our objectives this year is by a major reinvestment of some of our Ruggero commissions."
"How do I know you're gonna use our money and not somebody else's?" Tyler had a small grin on his face that Scully didn't notice. His eyes grew wide and he looked at Jim.
"He's breakin' your balls, Jack. Money's money." Jim and Tyler were both smiling, Jack had a confused look on his face but he read on.
"Opportunities, we've got some real opportunities that a one hundred thousand dollar reinvestment can take advantage of. We feel very strong that this money can make the difference and get us over the hump."
"Ly." Tyler had on his serious face. Jack looked at Tyler and looked at Jack. I had seen Tyler do this before but Jim hadn't.
"What? Did you say Lee?" Jack asked.
"Ly. You feel strongLY."
"Yes we do." Jack didn't understand what Tyler meant but decided to plug along. "We've got some distribution issues we can clear up at Pathmark and Grand Union. For instance, we haven't been able to get Pathmark to take on the twenty-four ounce Homestyle Pizza because we thought what they were asking was plain unfair. But we're"…. Tyler interrupted Jack.
"Ly."
Jack looked up but I couldn't help notice he kept his finger on his cheat sheet not to lose his place. "What, did you say, Lee?" Scully forced a laugh. Ah... I don't understand." Scully was now completely befuddled. "Jim, give me a hand here."
"Plainly, Jack, Bob was referring to the word plainLY." When Tyler pulled this shit on me we were in a car trying to locate inner city supermarkets. He did it while I was at the intersection of Broadway and Ninety-eighth Street; waiting to turn left through a busy intersection. I was somewhat flustered already from what we'd run into in the stores we'd just been in and he seized the opportunity to compound my frustration. he'd done it again with Scully, a funny bit unless you're on the wrong end of it. In my case I figured it out by the second Ly, I would hate to think how many times it would have taken Jack to figure it out on his own. he'd now lost what little confidence he had going in and Jim realized it.
"Bob, I guess all that coffee went right through me, I need a quick pee break, is that okay?"
"Me too." Scully got up without waiting for Tyler's response and headed for his private rest room adjacent to his office.
As soon as Jack was out of the room Jim looked at Tyler and quietly said, "Bob, you're killing him. He wants to spend some serious money on your line, let him finish, if he gets a heart attack before we agree on the arrangement maybe you don't get the bucks." Jim was smiling, trying a Hail Mary joke but I knew he was very worried about the situation.
"I'm not taking his money, I'm firing your ass today but I want to break his balls before I tell him, soften him up first then kill him." Burns looked stunned.
"Are you serious, you can't be serious." Jim knew damn well Tyler was serious. "don't pull the plug now, just let us see what we can do for the rest of this fiscal year."
In a moment Jack walked back into the room. He looked as if he had regained his composure although that would be short lived. He took his seat at the end of the table.
"Okay, where were we. Oh yeah, I was talking about the money we're going to pay Pathmark to take on the twenty four ounce."
"Jack, we've decided that four straight years of not making your numbers with us and a bad start on the fifth is already too long. Way too long. We'll be interviewing the market beginning immediately. Your contract guarantees you ninety days after your termination notice; I'm giving you one hundred and fifty, providing your guys keep working the line for the whole ninety. Tommy will help you with any details and he's going to keep monitoring you. If you try to screw us, Jack, not only will you lose the other two months, I'll make sure you get stuck with every fuckin' improper deduction on the books. Let's go, Tommy."
None of us said a word as they walked. Jim waited a few seconds after they were gone and turned to Jack. "Stay here, let me talk to him outside, something just doesn't sound right."
What Jim was referring to was not so much that we got fired, it was the way Tyler did it. he's a hard ass but he acted much harsher than anyone would have expected, as if something else had happened beyond us being a shitty broker.
Scully called Ruthless and had her bring him a scotch as we sat at the table, this twenty-foot long highly polished fruit wood table. We were spread out, no one within five feet of anyone else. It felt weird and must have looked even weirder to Ruthless when she came in with the old man's drink. No fool, she just looked around, smelled the atmosphere and without breaking stride was gone. Jim was away no more than three or four minutes and when he came back in he wasn't smiling. We knew the outcome wasn't going to change but personally I couldn't wait to hear what had gotten up Tyler's ass.
"The account's gone, don't say anything to anyone just yet, I'll handle letting everyone know. Guys, I need to speak to Jack alone." We left but within an hour Jim was walking into my office.
"Okay, I've got to hear this one."
"Being named Murphy what do feel about Murphy's law?"
"I think Murphy, the other Murphy, the real Murphy rules."
"You're right. Seems that the old man goes to a dentist named Bauer. they're old friends and they bullshit with each other a lot while Jack's waiting for the needle to take. Seems like Jack tells Bauer about the principles he most dislikes and that Tyler is on the top of the list. No surprise there. Problem is Bauer has a salesman calling on him who takes him to lunch periodically. The salesman is Tyler's wife's kid brother. Sounds like Bauer is as stupid as Jack... or, he hates Jack as much as most people and fucked him when he got the chance."
"You think he'd screw his own patient?"
"Look, seems to me if the old man goes to him he must be the most highly recommended guy around, the one thing Jack doesn't skimp on is himself. And if he's that good and that famous maybe he just didn't give a shit if Scully ever came back to him or not. Moral of story, keep your mouth shut because not only does Murphy rule, he's always listening."
So we became six hundred thousand dollars a year smaller, Jack
became a little meaner and sadder, Jim and I became a little more
convinced that Scully Sales days were numbered and Dr. Bauer
would have one less presumably annoying patient.
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Material Copyright © 1998-2003 by Jim Bearden