Monday – No More S. and M. at Work
Feb. 22nd, 2010 01:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
.
.
Dave let me know last Monday that, after last week, there would be no more S. and M. around the office. This made me a little sad. I’ve only worked here for a month or so, but I liked S. and M. both and enjoyed having them around. They drove Dave crazy though. I think he liked M. a little more than he liked S., but neither of him were helping his bottom line any. Because of this Dave’s boss, the owner of both Dave's company and the company I work for, told him to let them go.
S. and M. are the real life initials of the two sales managers that worked for Dave. I won’t tell you their real names, but for the purposes of this story I will call them by names that sum up their personalities: Miss Saccharine and Miss Morose.
”I’m letting Miss Saccharine go on Wednesday, and Miss Morose goes on Friday,” Dave told me. I don’t know why he did. I had a friendly working relationship with both his sales employees and this put me in the position of having to pretend that I didn’t know about their impending doom when I saw them. I think that Dave is simply one of those people who often needs to vent. Since I work close to him, but not for him, and I can match his sarcasm barb for barb, he vents to me. Mostly he vents to me about my boss (perhaps because I am Frank’s employee and he views me as a stand-in for saying what he really wants to say to Frank’s face but can't), but he also vents about his ex-wife and anyone else who annoys him. Like S. and M. They annoyed him a lot. Worse, they never sold a single contract since they started working for him a few months ago, and both seemed content to live off their base salaries without ever making a single commission to plump it up.
Miss Saccharine drove Dave up the wall every time she said good morning. She is originally from Ohio, and has a flat yet weirdly sing-songy cadence to the way she speaks. “Good MoOoring!”
He used to growl under his breath after she greeted him, and as soon as she was out of earshot he would start to mock her in a breathy falsetto. “Goooood MoooOOOrning! Oh, Good Mooorning! And how are YOUUUUUuuu today?” Then he would switch back to his own voice and growl, “I’m just peachy. Now shut up!”
“Dave, you are a bitter, twisted, man,” I told him. “She’s not that bad.”
“Yes, she is. I hate the way she says that.” He flashed an exaggerated version of Miss Saccharin’s sunny smile and turned his head to the side. “Goooood MoOorning!”
“She’s a nice person.”
“I know she is. But she makes me nuts. You don’t think she’s going to cry, do you? When I talk to her on Wednesday?”
“Her eyes might tear up, but I doubt she’ll sob or anything.”
“Good, because I can’t deal with that.”
He called Miss Saccharine into his office on Wednesday. After a few minutes she opened the door and walked briskly out to go clear out her cubicle. Dave walked out and handed me some paperwork to fax over to a state agency and let them know she wasn’t working her anymore. He looked relieved. “One down,” he said softly.
He spend the next day and a half avoiding his other sales rep. Miss Morose figured he was just busy but seemed perplexed about he was so busy all of the sudden like. I played dumb. When Dave did have to pop in the office to grab something off of his desk, he came in through the door that leads directly to his office and doesn’t make the bell ring in the lobby.
“Pssssst! Is M. here?”
“She’s in the back. Why?”
“I just don’t want to see her. Don’t tell her I was here.”
“You were here? Where? I didn’t see you.”
“Exactly.”
He called Miss Morose into his office on Friday morning. That meeting went a lot faster than his meeting with Miss Saccharin. I heard her voice rise in a comment of protest, then M. threw open the door to his office and marched out without saying a word to get her things. M. had mentioned the week before to me how pathetic the 2% commission was and how much she would have to sell to make any real money, so it really wasn’t worth it to her. She also mentioned that she really needed the job.
“Feel better?” I asked Dave.
He smiled. “Much.”
“When does your new sales guy start?”
He frowned. He hasn’t hired a new sales person yet. He figured that not by having S. and M. on his payroll he was saving $48K a year and making just as many sales as he would by keeping them around. “I’m working on it. Sorry about M. I know you two were tight and all that.”
“We weren’t tight. I liked her, that’s all. But I also know she’s not a good sales person. I used to train sales people, and neither of them had what it takes. They aren’t confident enough. To sell something like your service, you have to have the confidence to convince them to buy something they didn’t think they needed before you walked through their door. Confidence in yourself is interpreted as confidence in your product. My guys sold funeral pre-need so I know what how a good salesperson acts. Trust me, if you can get people to pay for a funeral they aren’t even going to get to see or enjoy, you can get them to pay for anything.”
Dave grunted.
I leaned forward on his desk and put on the serious yet compassionate face that I saw my sales guys wear at Big Death. “Have you ever had to make the funeral arrangements for someone you love? It’s not something anyone enjoys doing, and it’s even worse when you don’t even know what that person would even want. You can take that burden away from your family by taking care of these arrangements yourself. It’s probably the most loving and compassionate thing a person can do for their family…”
“Stop it! Shut up!” Dave said, pointing out to the SUVs in the parking lot wrapped in the company logo. “Or I swear to God I’m going to get you a badge and put you in one of those trucks and make you start selling for me. Watch me.”
I smiled brightly. “Wouldn’t do any good. I can train sales people, but I couldn’t be one. I have no self esteem, for one, I’m just good at faking it. Besides, I’m Frank’s minion, not yours. Put an ad on Craig’s List and get your own minion if you want one so bad.”
“Whatever. Get out my office before I make you start selling for me. Don’t think I’m not serious.”
I walked out, thinking the place was awfully quite without S. and M. in the back, making saccharine and morose sales pitches over the phone, respectively. Unlike their boss, I really did like them.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
.
.
Dave let me know last Monday that, after last week, there would be no more S. and M. around the office. This made me a little sad. I’ve only worked here for a month or so, but I liked S. and M. both and enjoyed having them around. They drove Dave crazy though. I think he liked M. a little more than he liked S., but neither of him were helping his bottom line any. Because of this Dave’s boss, the owner of both Dave's company and the company I work for, told him to let them go.
S. and M. are the real life initials of the two sales managers that worked for Dave. I won’t tell you their real names, but for the purposes of this story I will call them by names that sum up their personalities: Miss Saccharine and Miss Morose.
”I’m letting Miss Saccharine go on Wednesday, and Miss Morose goes on Friday,” Dave told me. I don’t know why he did. I had a friendly working relationship with both his sales employees and this put me in the position of having to pretend that I didn’t know about their impending doom when I saw them. I think that Dave is simply one of those people who often needs to vent. Since I work close to him, but not for him, and I can match his sarcasm barb for barb, he vents to me. Mostly he vents to me about my boss (perhaps because I am Frank’s employee and he views me as a stand-in for saying what he really wants to say to Frank’s face but can't), but he also vents about his ex-wife and anyone else who annoys him. Like S. and M. They annoyed him a lot. Worse, they never sold a single contract since they started working for him a few months ago, and both seemed content to live off their base salaries without ever making a single commission to plump it up.
Miss Saccharine drove Dave up the wall every time she said good morning. She is originally from Ohio, and has a flat yet weirdly sing-songy cadence to the way she speaks. “Good MoOoring!”
He used to growl under his breath after she greeted him, and as soon as she was out of earshot he would start to mock her in a breathy falsetto. “Goooood MoooOOOrning! Oh, Good Mooorning! And how are YOUUUUUuuu today?” Then he would switch back to his own voice and growl, “I’m just peachy. Now shut up!”
“Dave, you are a bitter, twisted, man,” I told him. “She’s not that bad.”
“Yes, she is. I hate the way she says that.” He flashed an exaggerated version of Miss Saccharin’s sunny smile and turned his head to the side. “Goooood MoOorning!”
“She’s a nice person.”
“I know she is. But she makes me nuts. You don’t think she’s going to cry, do you? When I talk to her on Wednesday?”
“Her eyes might tear up, but I doubt she’ll sob or anything.”
“Good, because I can’t deal with that.”
He called Miss Saccharine into his office on Wednesday. After a few minutes she opened the door and walked briskly out to go clear out her cubicle. Dave walked out and handed me some paperwork to fax over to a state agency and let them know she wasn’t working her anymore. He looked relieved. “One down,” he said softly.
He spend the next day and a half avoiding his other sales rep. Miss Morose figured he was just busy but seemed perplexed about he was so busy all of the sudden like. I played dumb. When Dave did have to pop in the office to grab something off of his desk, he came in through the door that leads directly to his office and doesn’t make the bell ring in the lobby.
“Pssssst! Is M. here?”
“She’s in the back. Why?”
“I just don’t want to see her. Don’t tell her I was here.”
“You were here? Where? I didn’t see you.”
“Exactly.”
He called Miss Morose into his office on Friday morning. That meeting went a lot faster than his meeting with Miss Saccharin. I heard her voice rise in a comment of protest, then M. threw open the door to his office and marched out without saying a word to get her things. M. had mentioned the week before to me how pathetic the 2% commission was and how much she would have to sell to make any real money, so it really wasn’t worth it to her. She also mentioned that she really needed the job.
“Feel better?” I asked Dave.
He smiled. “Much.”
“When does your new sales guy start?”
He frowned. He hasn’t hired a new sales person yet. He figured that not by having S. and M. on his payroll he was saving $48K a year and making just as many sales as he would by keeping them around. “I’m working on it. Sorry about M. I know you two were tight and all that.”
“We weren’t tight. I liked her, that’s all. But I also know she’s not a good sales person. I used to train sales people, and neither of them had what it takes. They aren’t confident enough. To sell something like your service, you have to have the confidence to convince them to buy something they didn’t think they needed before you walked through their door. Confidence in yourself is interpreted as confidence in your product. My guys sold funeral pre-need so I know what how a good salesperson acts. Trust me, if you can get people to pay for a funeral they aren’t even going to get to see or enjoy, you can get them to pay for anything.”
Dave grunted.
I leaned forward on his desk and put on the serious yet compassionate face that I saw my sales guys wear at Big Death. “Have you ever had to make the funeral arrangements for someone you love? It’s not something anyone enjoys doing, and it’s even worse when you don’t even know what that person would even want. You can take that burden away from your family by taking care of these arrangements yourself. It’s probably the most loving and compassionate thing a person can do for their family…”
“Stop it! Shut up!” Dave said, pointing out to the SUVs in the parking lot wrapped in the company logo. “Or I swear to God I’m going to get you a badge and put you in one of those trucks and make you start selling for me. Watch me.”
I smiled brightly. “Wouldn’t do any good. I can train sales people, but I couldn’t be one. I have no self esteem, for one, I’m just good at faking it. Besides, I’m Frank’s minion, not yours. Put an ad on Craig’s List and get your own minion if you want one so bad.”
“Whatever. Get out my office before I make you start selling for me. Don’t think I’m not serious.”
I walked out, thinking the place was awfully quite without S. and M. in the back, making saccharine and morose sales pitches over the phone, respectively. Unlike their boss, I really did like them.
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no subject
Date: 2010-02-22 07:56 pm (UTC)And I needed the smile you just gave me. Thanks.
And yes, salesmen are a breed of their own (I should know, I am married to one)
no subject
Date: 2010-02-22 09:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-22 11:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-23 03:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-23 01:46 pm (UTC)Plus, any salesman/woman worth their salt would look at the base pay as immaterial. They live and die by their commissions.
no subject
Date: 2010-02-23 02:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-24 05:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-24 10:39 pm (UTC)