The story so far: After the Old Saleswoman asked an older female co-worker she admired for help with an intimating elevator operator, a company-wide meeting was called, to be held next door at the Capital Music Hall, site of Jamboree USA.
One by one the managers got up and tried to explain the meaning of a hostile work environment as it pertained to women. No one seemed to know just what it was, but all the managers agreed it was a bad thing, and there was a new law about it. Harry seemed particularly flummoxed. He had definitely never heard of this concept before and didn’t seem to want to delve into it too deeply.
After the managers talked, the top counsel for the station got up and told everyone about a lawsuit filed against one of the mines about this very thing. He told us all to be careful, and stop doing whatever it was we might be doing that could bring on a similar suit.
Finally, the station manager took questions from the audience. They were real questions too, not like the sanitized questions normally asked by company retainers. I could tell they were real questions because the station manager didn’t have all the answers, or have handouts ready to pass out to “address that very question”.
After the sales staff had wandered back to the bullpen, Charlie said, “Well, this is no more than being told to make sure you behave like a decent human being. Watch how you conduct yourself around women; remember they’re someone’s daughter or sister or such."
Doug agreed and didn’t say much else. He seemed embarrassed to have been at such a meeting. Joe had gotten so nervous during all the speeches he’d singed his hair and left the music hall. Benny had been so affected by it all he set a record, saying boom ten times in three minutes.
As a result of the meeting, the elevator operator stopped spitting vile phrases at me. But he didn’t stop glaring and snorting in disgust whenever I got in his elevator. As Cathy said, some things you just can’t legislate.
During the same weeks I was taking scary elevator rides, I was also working on my phone pitch because first you have to sell the appointment. I called all the names on the list of businesses Harry gave me.
There were car dealers, discount furniture stores, a carpet emporium, a few jewelry outlets, mobile home dealers, and even the names of a couple of guys who sold fireworks and advertised with the station every June. The mobile home dealers looked most interesting. The firework guys looked good too, but they were very seasonal.
My desk was in the middle of the bullpen, surrounded by the four other reps. Since there were no cubicle walls separating us, just identical grey steel desks placed about three feet apart, there was no privacy to be hung up on in peace. After a couple of weeks of stumbling around and explaining that even though I was a female I was representing WWVA, I got a nibble from Ron Small’s Mobile Homes. I hung up the phone and exploded in victory in the bullpen.
“Ron Small wants us to do a remote broadcast from his mobile home dealership! Can we do that? Where’s Harry?” I spun in a circle a few times and headed for Harry’s office.
“Boom!” I heard from behind me. “I’ve called on Ron Small. Oh yeah! It was two months ago, I knew he had too much inventory. Now he wants a remote. You go get it! Boom!”
Charlie looked up from his fingernail clippings, smiled serenely, and laughed. You couldn’t impress a man who’d played at the Opry easily.
“I sold him advertising and put him out of business, oh, ten years ago. But sometimes they won’t stay out.”
I came to realize gallows humor was the salesmen’s way of dealing with whatever bad feelings they had for being a part of what may have been a last gasp by an Ohio Valley business.
“I tell you what you need to do,” Joe said, waving his cigarette. “You need to get an act to draw’em in. I got a girl who’ll sing to break your heart. Met her at the Exit 47 Truck Stop. Just sittin' there singin’ like a little bird.” He waved his cigarette dangerously close to his hair. “A mobile home remote is the kind of exposure she could use now. She’ll sing for lunch and a couple of albums. ”
Doug got up from his desk and pulled a file out of one of the cabinets. He tossed it on my desk, and it slid across my Day at a Glance blotter to the floor. “He’s bad pay. Period. Read that. Jean, our bookkeeper-the woman who figures our commissions-is going to want cash in advance.”
Immediately, all four salesmen marched to the front of the room, put their palms together over their heads, and scooted in a conga line to the Jaws theme. “DA da -DA da -DA da-DA Da” After a chorus, Doug announced, “If you don’t get cash in advance, Jean will be after blood.” There were big belly laughs at that.
At this point, Harry stuck his head out of his office. “Doug’s right. Go ahead and do the remote. But get the money upfront!!” He looked me in the eye. “I mean it. I don’t want Jean in here. And I don’t want the station manager in here snooping around either. Now you’ve been warned.”
After the managers talked, the top counsel for the station got up and told everyone about a lawsuit filed against one of the mines about this very thing. He told us all to be careful, and stop doing whatever it was we might be doing that could bring on a similar suit.
Finally, the station manager took questions from the audience. They were real questions too, not like the sanitized questions normally asked by company retainers. I could tell they were real questions because the station manager didn’t have all the answers, or have handouts ready to pass out to “address that very question”.
After the sales staff had wandered back to the bullpen, Charlie said, “Well, this is no more than being told to make sure you behave like a decent human being. Watch how you conduct yourself around women; remember they’re someone’s daughter or sister or such."
Doug agreed and didn’t say much else. He seemed embarrassed to have been at such a meeting. Joe had gotten so nervous during all the speeches he’d singed his hair and left the music hall. Benny had been so affected by it all he set a record, saying boom ten times in three minutes.
As a result of the meeting, the elevator operator stopped spitting vile phrases at me. But he didn’t stop glaring and snorting in disgust whenever I got in his elevator. As Cathy said, some things you just can’t legislate.
During the same weeks I was taking scary elevator rides, I was also working on my phone pitch because first you have to sell the appointment. I called all the names on the list of businesses Harry gave me.
There were car dealers, discount furniture stores, a carpet emporium, a few jewelry outlets, mobile home dealers, and even the names of a couple of guys who sold fireworks and advertised with the station every June. The mobile home dealers looked most interesting. The firework guys looked good too, but they were very seasonal.
My desk was in the middle of the bullpen, surrounded by the four other reps. Since there were no cubicle walls separating us, just identical grey steel desks placed about three feet apart, there was no privacy to be hung up on in peace. After a couple of weeks of stumbling around and explaining that even though I was a female I was representing WWVA, I got a nibble from Ron Small’s Mobile Homes. I hung up the phone and exploded in victory in the bullpen.
“Ron Small wants us to do a remote broadcast from his mobile home dealership! Can we do that? Where’s Harry?” I spun in a circle a few times and headed for Harry’s office.
“Boom!” I heard from behind me. “I’ve called on Ron Small. Oh yeah! It was two months ago, I knew he had too much inventory. Now he wants a remote. You go get it! Boom!”
Charlie looked up from his fingernail clippings, smiled serenely, and laughed. You couldn’t impress a man who’d played at the Opry easily.
“I sold him advertising and put him out of business, oh, ten years ago. But sometimes they won’t stay out.”
I came to realize gallows humor was the salesmen’s way of dealing with whatever bad feelings they had for being a part of what may have been a last gasp by an Ohio Valley business.
“I tell you what you need to do,” Joe said, waving his cigarette. “You need to get an act to draw’em in. I got a girl who’ll sing to break your heart. Met her at the Exit 47 Truck Stop. Just sittin' there singin’ like a little bird.” He waved his cigarette dangerously close to his hair. “A mobile home remote is the kind of exposure she could use now. She’ll sing for lunch and a couple of albums. ”
Doug got up from his desk and pulled a file out of one of the cabinets. He tossed it on my desk, and it slid across my Day at a Glance blotter to the floor. “He’s bad pay. Period. Read that. Jean, our bookkeeper-the woman who figures our commissions-is going to want cash in advance.”
Immediately, all four salesmen marched to the front of the room, put their palms together over their heads, and scooted in a conga line to the Jaws theme. “DA da -DA da -DA da-DA Da” After a chorus, Doug announced, “If you don’t get cash in advance, Jean will be after blood.” There were big belly laughs at that.
At this point, Harry stuck his head out of his office. “Doug’s right. Go ahead and do the remote. But get the money upfront!!” He looked me in the eye. “I mean it. I don’t want Jean in here. And I don’t want the station manager in here snooping around either. Now you’ve been warned.”
To be Continued in Chapter 4 "Cash in Advance!"
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