First of all: we sell stuff as a vendor.
…We have GIANT contracts, with HUGE retail and wholesalers, which are the bread and butter of our monetary intake, here at the brothel. And our biggest one…the Grand Puba of the lot…is based here, in the Pac NW, therefore, our branch is the go-toest of the go-to guys when it comes to making them happy.
…They want “this” thing to swap out for “that?” Make ‘em happy!
…They want show dates “here” and “there,” for “this” one and “that” one? Make ‘em happy!
…It’s 5am and they need lit sent over before 10, but at the location across the mountain? Make ‘em happy!
Compared to THIS company, everyone else becomes the redheaded step child, and we are told to drop, replace, yank product, and sell our first born offspring, in order to: Make. Them. Happy.
MAKE THEM HAPPY!
MAKE them happy!
Make ‘em…happy!
(And don’t fuck up.)
…The last part is the most difficult, of course. Cuz it’s our company. Based on the other coast. And even though we are here in the lumber capital of the US, everything sources from there, and needs to GET to here, in order to, “make ‘em happy.”
…You may see where this might not work out very well.
…So when a text comes through at 8am on a Saturday from the Sales Rep at the roadshow location, saying, “Due to personal circumstances, I will no longer be working with the staffing agency and will not be on site today…”
…WHS PIMP will immediately bolt upright in bed, and rush toward the bathroom with button-up and Dockers in-hand, while speed dialing the agency responsible for the staffing.
Because, DEAR GOD, we have less than two hours to “MAKE THEM HAPPY.”
WHS Pimp: (after spitting out toothpaste.) Hi, yeah…I just got a message from our Sales Rep, that he won’t be in today. I’ll be on my way there to cover, in five minutes, but I’m an hour away…I need to make sure you have a replacement enroute as well.
Agency: Sorry, he messaged you?
WHS Pimp: (after splashing water all over his face.) Yes.
Agency: Oh.
WHS Pimp: (Pulling shirt over head.) Why? What?
Agency: Well, he never told US.
WHS Pimp: (momentary pause.) Well, that’s unfortunate.
Agency: He works for us, so his first point of contact should be us.
WHS Pimp: (Jumping into pants, fighting the belt buckle, one-handed.) Yes. Well, yes. I agree. But so, anyway…you do have a backup for these kind of things, right?
Agency: He just shouldn’t be contacting you at all.
WHS Pimp: (pulling on socks.) Yes. Alright. But he did, see. And now I need to know…
Agency: –It’s “point of procedure.” It’s the first thing we tell them…
WHS Pimp: (slipping on shoes.) Sure. But, about that replacement…
Agency: We’re going to have to contact him and find out more information.
WHS Pimp: (swiffing papers and bills aside to find the truck keys.) I understand. But meanwhile…I have a building sitting empty, in the middle of a roadshow. Do you have a body I can put in it?
Agency: Only a first tier. Non-product-trained.
WHS Pimp: (stopping a second.) You have only ONE trained Sales Rep for our product?!
Agency: Available at the moment.
WHS Pimp: Aren’t we like one of your top clients? Our contract comes from the east coast.
Agency: Yes.
(Long silence.)
WHS Pimp: Hello?
Agency: Yes?
WHS Pimp: …I said, “Aren’t we one of your top–”
Agency: –Yes. I answered. But that is all we have to give you.
WHS Pimp: (finding keys, rushing out the door.) Fine. Okay. Just send them…anyone. Sales Lit is at the location. Tell them to inform customers that an actual Sales Rep will be arriving within the hour.
Agency: And who would that be, sir?
WHS Pimp: (trying not to yell.) Me. Me. I will be there.
Agency: I’m sorry, but since you are not with our Agency, we cannot sign off on your presence on the Sales Floor. All of our Employees have been background checked and passed, as per the contract agreement with your Sales Vendor.
WHS Pimp: (revving up truck, more than necessary.) Well I am the current Manager of the Pacific Northwest location for our contract with you, so I will be on that Sales Floor, within the hour, to sell our own product. Because someone needs to. Thank you.
(He hangs up, and begins the commute.)
…Meanwhile, in internet land, messages are flinging back and forth like mad, sending WHS Pimp’s phone to go off like a code-red. When stopped at a stoplight, he scans the stream to catch up, then stops. He pulls over, because he’s just read this:
Home Office Email: “…Yeah, the Agency says they’ve been trying to contact you for hours, but you haven’t responded. The Rep is not only no longer on location, apparently he’s been arrested.”
WHS Pimp: (yelled at phone screen.) WHAT?!??!?!?
Home Office Email: “…We are waiting for a reply from the WHS Pimp.”
(WHS Pimp immediately speed dials.)
Home Office Lead Of Contract: Hello?
WHS Pimp: Yeah, it’s me. WHAT THE HELL?! I mean, I don’t mean to go off on you like that, right off the bat, but…WHAT THE HELL?!?!
HOLOC: Yes, we’ve been contacted by the Agency–
WHS Pimp: –LIARS! I JUST got off the phone, telling THEM this guy was a no-show, based off a text he sent me. They had no idea anything had even happened!!
HOLOC: Well, it had.
WHS Pimp: And now he’s been ARRESTED?!
HOLOC: Apparently. Yes. Last night. Just before closing. They want to know what we are going to do about it.
WHS Pimp: Why?! What?! “Do” what about what?! He’s not our employee.
HOLOC: But he was on our “time.”
WHS Pimp: (beat.) WHAT?!??! NO!!! He belongs to them! It’s not our problem. OUR problem is getting a Sales person there–
HOLOC: Oh, they’re pulling the show.
WHS Pimp: WHAT??!?!
HOLOC: Yes. They’re already in the middle of removing our product off the floor.
WHS Pimp: Wait! What?! This has nothing to do with us. It’s their own staffing Agency…it’s THEIR employee! We’re being penalized and shut down for another guy’s guy getting arrested?!
HOLOC: On the Sales Floor. Yes.
WHS Pimp: Oh holy fuck…that’s like 50 g’s in sales projections for this week.
HOLOC: Yep.
WHS Pimp: Are you serious right now??!?!
…He was totally serious.
…Which even got better. As our deadline to get our 4 tons of product out of their yard, a full nine days before it was slotted to be removed, was to require about nine acts of god to achieve…
…Which would pay a Contractor to relocate…
…Coming out of our bottom line, without any sales to help cover the charges, time loss, or other job loss to the rest of our contractors slotted to build on the following week’s sales contracts.
…Which brings us to this morning.
…And the “call.”
Word of mouth had already spread. Contractors and Office Staff knew, by now, what had gone down. But what we didn’t know was, “why?”
WHAT in the living hell, possessed a Sales Rep our Agency has used for multiple years, to get arrested off the Sales Floor in the middle of a business day? And what in the hell did he take?
WHAT could be worth it?
…We began to place bets.
“Alcohol. It’s a misdemeanor, automatically in this state…”
…”Drugs from the pharmacy somehow??”
…”Everything they sell there is the size of a fucking crate…where could he even PUT anything like that and think he’d just walk out the door?”
…”I’m telling you: One of those gallon jugs of alcohol. Maybe lifted it off the floor…caught drinking it in the john at break…”
…”Or camera. Or some kind of electrical equipment?”
…”Don’t they sell Rolexes there? How ’bout a Rolex?”
…After about an hour of placing bets, the call finally came in.
…We knew it was good, cuz even as pissed at sales loss as he was, the WHS Pimp started to chuckle.
…Then just full-out laugh.
“It was liquor. Right? Am I right…?”
“…Pills. Some kind of pills…”
“You guys, no. It was a video camera or something like that.”
“So, what was it?”
WHS Pimp: Well, apparently, they have one of those “silent shopper” people in their locations, just wandering around the store all day? And their actual job is to “watch people.”
Me: There’s secret watcher-people in those places? That’s what they actually “do?” That’s creepy.
WHS Pimp: Yeah, and so this “secret shopper” was getting all suspicious on the guy, and so kept circling the area…you know, covertly and things…?
Me: Okay.
WHS Pimp: …And they noticed he kept going to this one section with his tote bag between Customers, and then coming back again…
Me: Uh huh…
WHS Pimp: But the “secret shopper” couldn’t figure out why…?
Me: DRUG DEALER!
WHS Pimp: …So they circled closer…
Me: Yeah…?
WHS Pimp: …And saw him take a thing, stuff it in his bag, and go back. Then take a thing, stuff it in his bag, and go back. Across several hours.
Me: Okay. Yeah. So what was it?!
WHS Pimp: By the time they finally called a bust on him, he had 40…
Me: (Getting excited.) –Yeah?!
WHS Pimp: In his bag.
Me: What?! Of WHAT?!?
(A moment to grin.)
WHS Pimp: Hawaiian shirts.
..The whole office just stands/sits there. We blink. It’s quiet.
Me: Are you fucking kidding me.
WHS Pimp: I am not.
Me: Hawaiian shirts.
WHS Pimp: 40.
Me: Oh. That dude is so gonna be reamed in jail. Reamed raw.
(Everyone nods in agreement, and we all bust out laughing…until we almost pee.)
The end.
~D
