EPISODE 62

Richard was on the phone when I walked into his office.  He pointed to a chair and signaled that he was close to finishing up on his call.  I found a mock-up of a new product catalog that was ready to go to print on the coffee table and leafed through it while I waited.  The company had hired yet another graphic designer to add his input to the chorus of other designers SlipNot already had on staff.  I swear this guy must have come straight out of porno films.  All of his graphics looked like the kind of stuff that used to adorn the movie posters in Times Square a generation earlier.  He managed to turn the images of all of the models we’d hired into slut shots and the lettering was in those lurid, creepy fonts that were so popular in the Blaxploitation films of the 1970’s.  Think “Debbie Does Dallas” meets “Blacula” and you’ll get the general idea.  I closed the catalog just as Richard hung up.

“Sorry about that,” he said.  “Les is trying to figure out how to get in touch with a pile of new clients that have just been handed off; your old clients, in fact.  He’s swamped with meetings here for the next couple of days, so he wondered if I could get you to make those calls for him.”  Richard smiled thinly before adding, “Under the circumstances, I felt it wasn’t the most prudent course of action.”

He opened a file folder and glanced quickly at the top paper on the small pile of documents it held.

“Michael, Keith wanted me to talk with you about the rather heated discussion the two of you had on Tuesday.  As you know, we’ve all accepted the fact that you can be a little ‘colorful’ with your use of language.  That’s never been an issue because none of our clients has ever complained about it.  However, you are aware that the use of some of the more coarse words that seem to come so naturally to you is actually a firing offense. It’s right in the Employee Manual.  Your profane tirade against Keith was unacceptable.  He’s the owner!  Even if he were not, you have to maintain a professional attitude about your work and using the ‘F-word’ during a business meeting is unconscionable.  Accordingly, I have prepared a memo that will be filed with Human Resources, attesting to the fact that I have verbally warned you about your behavior and that any future breach of conduct will result in your immediate termination as an employee at SlipNot.  You can consider yourself on probation until I inform you otherwise.”

He took the top sheet of paper off of the pile and set it aside.  He then removed a small piece of paper, which I recognized as the note I had passed to Keith in his office two days before.  He looked at it briefly before setting it aside and directing his attention back to me.

“Keith handed me this set of numbers you gave him.  I wonder if you might explain them to me.”

“When he told me what was happening to my commission base, that it was going away, I just calculated how much my existing accounts would have paid me.  The first number is my estimate of how much the commissions on new business I closed since Vegas would come to over the coming year.  The other is what I’d been getting in commissions, prior to the Vegas conference.”

“Okay, so you figure that you’re going to lose $2850 a month from the new business you’ve just closed and another $2400 per month in commissions from your existing accounts?”

“That’s right.”

Richard paused for a few seconds and appeared to be running those facts through his mind.  “Of course,” he said slowly, “I’ll have to verify them.”

I realized that Richard was considering an offer instead of a severance settlement.  He’d already put me on probation, so it was clear the decision had been made to keep me on.  I did my best not to say a word, or to let my facial expression betray my surprise.  I’d tossed those numbers at Keith as an insult.  I never expected to see that slip of paper again.  But there it was, laying on Richard’s desk and the guy was apparently actually considering that it might be a valid claim.  What was even more remarkable was the implication that Keith had either told Richard it was legitimate or had passed it along for his reading of the situation.  Either way, I was astonished.  What was it with these people?  I had insulted the owner of the company, attempted to shame him for his move to cut my pay and in almost any other company in the known world; this course of action was a sure way to get you fired.  Maybe Allan was right.  You just couldn’t get canned at SlipNot.

“Michael, Keith and I have discussed these numbers together and with Bosco.  We all agree that the roughly $60,000 you’ve claimed is a lot of money.  Do you understand that?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, so it follows that it would impact SlipNot’s cash flow if it were to be paid out to you.  Agreed?”

“Actually, no.”  I looked steadily into Richard’s eyes. 

“Michael, 60 grand is a good deal of money.”

“But in order to earn it, I first had to close about a million and a quarter in new business.  The company gets to keep the lion’s share, wouldn’t you agree?  My piece is pretty small and you only write me a check once the client has made his full payment, so I don’t see the risk.”

“Bosco mentioned you might feel that way.”

“He’s right.”

“But Michael, it sends a very bad message to everyone else.  No one gets paid for media sales here.”

“And that really isn’t my problem.  The fact remains that I was hired with the understanding that I would receive that commission.  Now that I’m making some real headway, you guys have decided to keep all the money. That’s a disincentive to succeed.  I don’t show up for work every day for my salary anymore than a waiter comes to his restaurant each night for the hourly wage he receives.  He comes to wait on tables, to earn tips.  I’m here for the commissions, just like every other salesperson in this company.  You take that away and you kill the relationship.”

“But this subject isn’t up for debate.  It’s a policy that has been instituted.  There’s really nothing to discuss here.”

“Except for breach of contract.  Admittedly, you’ve got my balls because of the whole thing with Keith.  But, you’ve already made up your mind that this isn’t a firing offense either and you’ve documented it.  You also have established a pattern of paying me commissions on media sales that goes back well over a year.  That’s also documented.  You’ve set the precedents, not me.”

Richard gave me a thin smile.  “You’re not planning any legal action, are you Michael?”

“Why would I?  It’s just the two of us, having a friendly conversation, isn’t it?”

“There is no way SlipNot will pay you commissions on this,” he insisted again.  “But I have been authorized to offer you 12 monthly payments of $4000, providing that you keep everything we’ve said confidential.  You will receive that in addition to your regular salary.”

I was savvy enough to realize that $48,000 was less than the $63,000 I had claimed, but this had all been a bluff on my part to begin with.  I was stunned that the company was even considering paying me off.  Still, there was one thing that concerned me.

“What happens after the 12^th payment?” I asked.

“I suppose that’s something we could take up after you’re off probation.”

Richard replaced the two pieces of paper he had removed from my folder and closed it.  The discussion was over.

The next episode of SlipNot will be published on November 3rd.

If you'd like to read SlipNot in its entirety, GO HERE.

ONLY 4 MORE EPISODES LEFT!

EPISODE 61

“You okay?” Bosco asked.

“Yeah,” I replied.  I felt much calmer.  I credited the Barrilito for this, but I was also beginning to realize that I had been a bit of an ass in Keith’s office.  I took another sip of rum.

“What’s on your mind, Bosco?”

“Keith figured you might have gone to clear your desk out, so he wanted me to check in on you.”

“Not likely, at least not right now.”

“Good.  I want to talk with you.”

“Go for it.”

“Not over the phone.  I’ll meet you in your office in a few, okay?”

“Cool.”  I hung up the phone and quickly finished my drink.  I went over to the little coffee maker I had at the end of my desk and brewed a half a pot.  While I sipped on the coffee and waited for Bosco, I shot an instant message to Allan:

I think I might be getting canned.  Got in a big fight with Keith and told him to fuck off.

He replied a few seconds later.

No shit!  From what I’ve heard, no one’s been fired from this place in years.  You’ll be famous, man!  Mazel tov! 

I heard Bosco’s knock on the door and I hurriedly sent a response.

Bosco’s here.  I’ll see you later.

Bosco walked in briskly and sat down in the chair in front of my desk.  He looked serious, but just before he started to talk, his lips curled into a smile.

“I told Keith you wouldn’t like it.  I told him that it was never pretty trying to get between you and your money.”

“That, plus the fact that he decided I have to pay for the lack of confidentiality around here.”

“Agreed.  But, the problem is that the word is out and it can’t be taken back.  If people know how you’ve been getting paid and they’re jealous, there’s not much that can be done about it.  You need to make a new deal”

“I’m not sure I buy that.  The only way that Keith can sooth those egos is to leak that I’ve lost my most lucrative clients and my commissions?  That only compounds the breach.”

“That really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

 “Yes, it does.”  I looked out the window for a few seconds.  “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Don’t worry about it.  Shit, I know you pretty well after the years we’ve spent together and I’m used to you.  The problem is that Keith isn’t and he doesn’t really have any clear idea about what to do with you either.  All he sees is the money you’ve brought in and that’s what fascinates him.  He can’t figure out how you do it.  But he can’t stand that you’re so much of a loner.  He’s used to it from me, but then he and I go back almost 25 years.  He suspects that you’re a bit like me too and I think that scares him!”  He laughed at that before adding,  “This is why I’ve always felt you were the most fire-able person I’d ever met!”

Bosco kept smiling at me, but he lowered his voice a bit for emphasis.  “But what we need to concentrate on is what you’re going to do next,” he concluded. 

“You got any ideas?”

“Yes.  But you’re going to have to control your temper.  I spoke with Keith and he’s beginning to see why this pissed you off so much.”

 “He really figured I’d just go along with that it without an argument?”

“Keith’s feeling is that the new business you can bring in from the territories he wants to give you will be extremely profitable and he’ll be willing to share once that proves to be true.  He reckons that you could well be making much more than you are right now in maybe a year.”

“Yeah, but what do I live on in the meantime?  He took away all my accounts.  I was counting on that cash flow.  The way things are with this deal, I’ll be fucked over for months.”

Bosco’s smile widened and he leaned forward toward me.  “So, Michael – if I told you that the money might not be an issue, would that change your mind?”

“Are you trying to sell me?”

“It was that obvious?  I’m going to go talk to Richard Glick.  Keith wants him to handle this.  Keith realizes that you might not be too willing to negotiate with him and he figures that Richard might be a pretty effective mediator.”

“It can’t hurt,” I said.  Bosco nodded, stood up and left.

I didn’t hear from Richard that day, or the next.  I stayed holed up in my office most of the time, taking calls from clients.  The only person I saw was Allan. I appreciated his concern and it was good to be able to vent to him.  He listened to my complaints, offered advice and managed to keep me relatively sane as I waited for whatever was going to happen next.  What was weird though was that I didn’t care all that much if Keith did finally decide to can my ass anyway.  While I can’t claim that I was considering what my next move would be after I left SlipNot, I did feel as though I wasn’t really a part of it anymore.  It was a bit like being in the international terminal in between flights.  You may have started in New York, but now you were in Frankfurt, waiting to board a plane to Florence and you weren’t allowed to leave the terminal until they called your flight.  I was technically nowhere and I didn’t have a lot of control over the situation until someone told me I could move. 

The call from Richard came at around 3 in the afternoon on Thursday.  He asked me to come up to his office at 5. I shot Allan another instant message, giving him the new “intel” and asked him if he wanted to play some Scrabble on-line.  We played for a little over an hour and he beat me soundly in every game but one.  In my lone victory, I had challenged his playing of the word “taxicajaro” for the win.  It occurred to me that he’d purposely thrown the game, but I was never able to get him to admit to it.

I’m not a big fan of meetings at the end of the day.  I once had to endure a marathon sit down that involved Bosco, Keith (calling in from Hong Kong), Richard, Allan, the entire sales staff, a media buyer, two graphic artists, a Web designer who joined us by telephone from Boston, and a copywriter who also called in, even though his office was less than 4 blocks from SlipNot.  It was a Friday afternoon at 2 when Keith had called me, asking me to be ready to join this group at 4PM.  I couldn’t believe it.  What made it all the more memorable was that the damned thing went on until 9 that night!  To say that people were a bit touchy by the end didn’t even begin to do the situation justice. 

At least this time Richard hadn’t pulled that on me, although I doubt that the day of the week or time of day had factored much into his thinking.  He had to deal with someone he considered to be a pain in the ass, so it was probably all the same to him if we met at midnight in a dark parking garage instead.  Under those circumstances, he might have been able to hire a couple of guys to beat the crap out of me before we got down to talking about my permanent exile from midtown Manhattan.

The next episode of SlipNot will be published on October 27th.

If you'd like to read SlipNot in its entirety, GO HERE.

EPISODE 60

I looked at Bosco and I realized that I was sneering at him.  I could feel my eyes squint and my lips turn upward into a grimace.  "It sounds like I’m getting a pay cut, right?" I taunted.

"Calm down, Michael!" Bosco admonished.  "You need to hear Keith out on this."

"Fine!" I said angrily and I turned back to face Keith.  He was still in front of his desk, his hands folded near his waist.  He had been looking down at them and he slowly raised his head to meet my gaze.

"Okay, Michael," Keith continued.  "I understand that all of this comes as a bit of a surprise, but you have to understand that while it was great that you closed all of these new accounts, we would likely have gotten them anyway."

"How do you figure that?" I barked.

"Jesus!  They were all low-lying fruit! All we're trying to do is give you a little direction, show you where we want new territories opened up.  This is a hell of an opportunity for you.  You will have exclusivity.  No one else will be allowed to mine the leads in the part of the country we're giving you.  You’ll have the chance to really make a difference in this company.  I know you’ve worked hard, Michael and I respect that you guard your client list.  Bosco warned me that you’d be a bit ‘hostile’ to this whole idea.  I also realize that you were promised the commissions on the income stream from each of the new clients you signed up for the first year, but things have changed.  If you’re not going to be maintaining those accounts, you can’t expect me to pay you for work you’re no longer actually doing.”

“I see,” I replied.  “So I set things up for you and then you welsh on the deal we made?”

“I think that’s a bit harsh.  You’ve made some pretty good money from those accounts already and you never expected that you’d get paid on them forever, did you?”

“I had hoped you might make good on them for the first year.”

“Really?” Keith said.

Now I was really ticked off.  I could feel the fury building up inside me.  In some perverse way, there's something I've always liked about that sensation.  You know that if you give in to it that it will just have to escape and you will explode with rage.  That release is a self-destructive orgasm.  It's also not something you want to engage in all that often either (no matter how perversely good it might feel), particularly not when you're speaking with the nice man who signs all of your checks.  But I was gradually listening less and less to the trained salesman inside me that Bosco had helped to nurture, that guy who could tune out when a client ragged on him without ever making a sound in response.  No, my outwardly calm and inwardly detached persona, the one who could isolate a concern with a question and then turn an objection into an affirmation was drowning.  My own self-pity and my growing hostility toward Keith for what I saw he was doing to me began to take control.  I felt like I was overheating and discovered that I was indeed sweating. 

“Yes, Keith!” I said, my voice rising.  “I seriously expected you to keep your word to me.  My deal was very clear as to how long I was to be paid on the business I brought in and I see no reason why you shouldn’t live up to your part.”

“Sure, Michael.  But we’re changing your job description.  Those accounts don’t belong to you anymore.  I’ve already told you that we can’t pay you for maintaining accounts that you no longer manage.”

“You’ve already reassigned them?”

Keith looked at Bosco quickly and then, back at me.  “That’s right,” he said.

“Fuck you, Keith!”  I practically spat the words at him.

“Now, Michael!” Bosco scolded.  “You can’t say that.”

“I sure as hell can!” I replied angrily.  “And I can say ‘Fuck you’ to you too Bosco if you had anything to do with this.”

“No it wasn’t Bosco,” Keith said quickly.  “Richard and I have been looking at the numbers and we can’t afford to pay you what we estimate will be your commissions over the coming year.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?” My voice was shaking a bit.  “I bring the money to you and you pay me my share. Are you saying you don’t have the money I gave you anymore?”

“Of course not!  Jesus, Michael!  Stop making this so hard on everybody!”

“Then explain to me why you can’t pay me.”

Keith stepped away from the front of his desk and walked behind it.  He slowly sat down in his chair and then leaned forward.  “Because you’re making too much money.  Do you realize that you’re pulling in more in commissions than anyone else here?  I have salespeople who’ve been with the company for 5, 10, 15 years now and they don’t get paid what you do.  You’ve only been working with us for what, a year and a half maybe?  I can’t have my sales staff grumbling about what you’re making all the time.  It’s hurting morale.  I want a happy crew and right now, they’re jealous of you. You’re the only person that I’ve ever paid to sell marketing media. Like I said, everyone else packages the media sales in with their product deals and they don’t make anything extra on it.  Something had to give, Michael.”

“Keith?” I asked, almost whispering.  “How do they know what I’m being paid?”

“What do you mean?”

“Who told them what I’ve been making?”

Bosco turned to me and put his hand on my shoulder.  “Don’t push this Michael.  Remember where your bread is buttered.”

I jerked away from him and exploded.  “Who uses a bullshit phrase like that?  What are you, my grandfather?  Some asshole has been telling people what my salary and commissions are and that’s completely fucked!  It’s supposed to be confidential!  Why the hell am I being asked to pay for the fact that some dipshit in bookkeeping, or sales, or maybe even someone in fucking management has seen fit to leak this?”

I stood up.  Both Keith and Bosco hurried to their feet, Bosco placing himself in front of the desk, blocking my way.  I took a look at the two of them and laughed derisively.

“What did you think was going to happen, Bosco?” I said.  “You figured I was going to hit Keith?  Really?  Either one of you guys could take me out, easy as shit.  That’s not what this is about.”

I pulled a slip of paper out of my pocket, reached around Bosco and snatched a pen from Keith’s desk.  I quickly jotted some numbers down and then placed the paper on the desk.  “That’s how much money this conversation has cost me, Keith.  I’ve had it.  If you need me for anything, I’ll be in my office.”

I took the stairs down to my floor, so as to avoid running into anyone.  I was in a foul mood and I didn’t want to vent anymore than I already had in front of Keith and Bosco.  I couldn’t even handle George, who likely would have slept through the entire ride to my floor anyway.  Even though the walk had helped me calm down, I needed to get my mind off this mess.  I sat down at my desk and opened the drawer on the left hand side that always held a bottle of Ron del Barrilito 3-Star rum.  I poured a healthy serving into an empty coffee mug, returned the bottle to its drawer and took a long, slow swallow. I looked out my window onto the street and wondered how long I could stay holed up in my office before anyone would bother me.   Before I could take another belt, the phone rang. 

It was Bosco.

The next episode of SlipNot will be published on October 20th.

If you'd like to read SlipNot in its entirety, GO HERE.