I woke with a start when the garbage truck dropped the dumpster behind my townhouse. Oh, my head. I snuggled up against Jane and cupped her breast in my left hand as we spooned together in bed, my hard cock wedged comfortably between her ass cheeks. She moaned a little and turned to kiss me good morning.
Fucking hell! This wasn't Jane.
And the worst day of my life began.
Let me tell you; it really had to go some to get worse than yesterday. I thought that was unbeatable. Oh, it started great. I was on a roll at work and ready to close another sale. I sell systems for analytical accounting. This isn't your everyday laptop computer system. Network, servers, software, training, security. That's what our firm offers. I sell it.
If you've ever tried to sell something to a huge corporation or conglomerate or holding company, you know these guys don't just walk into Best Buy and leave with a new system. Selling them on revamping their entire network so they can run state of the art analysis on markets and competition, making sure they are safe from cyber-attack, and ensuring they're a step ahead of the competition is a long process. It takes about 100 days to make a sale. Once the sale is made, it has to be handled, the network actually designed and configured, everything installed, and employees trained. That takes the balance of a year. At any given time, I've got a client prospecting, one proposing, one closing, one in design, one in installation, and one in implementation.
How can I make a living just selling a system every 100 days? Well, each sale ranges between $2 million and $5 million. I work on commission. Just three percent. That's about $250-300k a year. I get by. It was nearly the middle of February and I was counting down the days until Carlo Bonelli Markets would close on their new system. I was going through contracts all morning, making sure every 'i' was dotted and every 't' was crossed. This was going to be a good one. They'd asked for revisions to the first proposal, but it turned out to be for bigger and more powerful servers so our net was going up.
I'd been beating up on our legal department to make corrections when I had to leave to attend the monthly sales meeting. I yelled at the paralegal that I expected the corrected contracts on my desk when I got my 2:00 p.m. break.
The company has long held that monthly sales meetings were mandatory. You didn't schedule meetings, go on trips, or sleep through a sales meeting. They were slated for the entire afternoon, but we got two breaks to make sure our accounts were okay. I joined the other reps in the war room where they had our usual sandwiches and coffee waiting for us. Mike Herman, the VP of Sales, always launched the meeting while we were chowing down. It was all corporate policy, turning in expense reports, and recognizing a top sale of the month. You have to understand that three and a half sales a year aren't enough to keep a company our size afloat. There are twenty of us out pounding the pavement, so to speak.
"So we think you'll be happy with the new benefits plan for this fiscal year. We're picking up better health coverage and including a club membership at Run-In Fitness on the main floor. Your benefits will include weight management and we're encouraging each of you to take advantage of that. You work long hard hours and you don't take care of yourselves. I want this whole crew in fighting trim. You get healthy and stay healthy. We all live long and prosper." There was a lot of tittering and a few groans. I glanced around me. I'd put on a few pounds myself and could use a daily workout routine. I wondered when I'd work that into my schedule.
"That brings us to this year's compensation package. You'll all be glad to know that we are fixing a new base for you so you never have to worry about going home without a paycheck in those long dry spells." There was a bit of applause and some 'About time' comments. Mike kept going. "We're upping the 401k matching program to five percent up to the limit allowed by the government. This year that can be as much as an extra six grand in your retirement fund. There's a circular that everyone is getting that goes over the usual gobbledy-gook from the government about how much you can put aside pre-tax each year. And you'll be glad to know that even with these increased benefits, we're maintaining a two percent commission rate for all sales, effective immediately."
He made it all sound so much like we were making out like bandits that it took a minute for that to soak in. They were increasing our 401k match by two percent and giving us a health club membership in exchange for a third of our commissions? What the fuck?
"Mike, that's effectively going to knock our compensation down by over twenty percent," I said. "What gives? We signed on for a three percent commission. I'm not interested in a stupid health club membership that costs me a hundred grand a year."
"Your numbers are all wrong, Dallas. Nobody's going to lose a hundred grand a year. Hell, some of these guys aren't even making a hundred a year yet. This is going to give everybody some badly needed support."
"I don't need that kind of support. I need the bucks I've been making. It's what the company agreed to."
That was the beginning of the end. Mike doesn't like to be challenged about anything. Which I did. You sure don't want to tell him to pull his head out of his ass. Which I did. And you never want to give him an ultimatum. Which I did. And you never ever want to question his ancestry. Which I did.
"Pack your shit and get out of my company!" he yelled at me.
"Fuck you!" I responded.
I don't keep personal crap at the office. It's where I work. I don't need pictures and potted plants and posters of the Steelers. I don't use my work computer for personal email or to watch porn. I go to work to make fucking money. I grabbed my jacket and walked out the door.
I was unemployed.
My phone rang as I walked to the bus stop. I hate driving in the city. I looked at the screen hoping it was Jane. Instead I saw it was Emory Wallace, our CEO. I didn't bother to answer. I threw my phone down on the sidewalk as hard as I could. "Fuck you!" I shouted as it shattered. The back popped off and the battery skittered across the sidewalk, right to the feet of a meter cop. He looked at me with his arms folded across his chest. I got down on my knees and picked up the pieces. I grabbed the SIM and the memory card out of the wreckage and tossed the rest in a trashcan. Who needs a phone?
I thought about stopping at Lou's Manhattan Club for a drink, but I didn't want to be close enough to the office that I might run into someone I knew. I got off the bus at Jane's apartment and let myself in. I kept a couple bottles of single malt scotch there and I was going to pour three fingers. Unfortunately, Jane was on swing shift and had just gone to work.
I flopped down in the living room and turned on the tube, automatically going to the Forbes channel to watch the corporate report. I took a long drink of my scotch. It burned so good.
"What are you doing here, Dallas? It's the middle of the day."
Oh God! Suze. She's a dish. Not only does she have a well-endowed shape beneath her coal-black hair, she's downright nice. I've known her as long as I've known Jane. In fact, the two of them have always been roommates and best friends. Jane is a little taller and is a comfortable fit for my six-two frame. Just as stacked and just as nice as her roommate. We used to do everything together. Over time, it became more Jane and me. Oh we still all went out together, but somewhere along the line Jane and I had become a couple and Suze was our friend. A good friend.
"I got fired."
"No shit? How could they do that? You're like their top producer."
"I'm not 'like' the top producer. I am the top producer. Was. They can go to hell."
"I'll join you in one of those," she said. "It must be five o'clock somewhere." She poured herself a scotch and plopped down on the sofa next to me. "I'm really sorry, Dal. Getting laid off really sucks."
"I wasn't laid off. I was summarily fired. To quote: 'Pack your shit and get out of my company.' I just grabbed my jacket and left. They can have my box of Kleenex and bottle of aspirin."
"What happened?" Suze slid over next to me and put an arm around my shoulders. I leaned in against her. She smelled good. In a few minutes she'd coaxed the story out of me. It was replete with as many expletives as I could fabricate. Eventually I'd have to apologize to her for my language, but I was too steamed right now to care. "Did you call Jane? Text her?"
"I ... uh ... broke my phone."
"Dal, you've really got to control your anger. Look what it cost you today. They wanted to take a hundred grand from you, so you threw away three hundred."
"Thanks. That puts it all in perspective."
"I can see there's no use trying to reason with you today. This calls for serious alcohol therapy. Give me a minute to change. Start thinking of where you're planning to take me. But I'll drive," she said, heading for her bedroom.
"Thanks. I took the bus today. Fucking city traffic."
"Fine. We'll head for the country."
.... There is more of this story ...