Roxanne started the conversation. “You’re one of the best, most talented reps we’ve seen here. No one in this room is saying you can’t sell. In fact, we wanted to ride with you that day to see what it is you say to close these deals.”
Gene jumped in, “We thought after we turned down the fireworks order, you would have understood…”
He drifted off and waited for me to finish his thought, but I just sat there and refused to help him out.
He continued, “…we thought you understood. Our goal is to develop long term, solid business here. We want accounts that can grow with us, that have the potential to be with us long term. These accounts you’ve brought us, they...” again he drifted.
“They all paid cash in advance is what they did …I never added a penny to the receivable problem you guys have.” I made the deadly switch from “we have” to “you have.”
Roxanne responded, ”Yes, cash is necessary at times for certain advertisers, like concert promoters, but the need to get cash in every case means we are dealing exclusively with bad credit risks. That’s not the portfolio of accounts we care to accumulate. Besides, half the sales you bring in here can’t be broadcast.
“But, but, but……” I actually stuttered. Roxanne put up her hand.
“Let me finish. This is a very high profile radio station and we all have very important jobs here. KDKA doesn’t advertise hair restorers. We don’t make outlandish promises on products that are not FDA approved. We don’t advertise DSMO for pain. My understanding is that DMSO, whatever that stands for, may be approved for use as horse liniment, but that’s all.”
“Well, I had two real testimonials, from grandmothers. And I know they were considering buying an FM station before I sold them.” I could literally feel my hair stand on end. “You said you wanted new accounts! All the big accounts are taken!"
Gene went on, “That professor who advertised with us for test subjects. His ad said he wanted healthy men and women between the ages of twenty-two and thirty for an experiment at his university and he would pay them five hundred dollars each. He got a lot of responses, but we had to handle the fallout when the university found out he was conducting some sort of sex study, off-campus, unsanctioned, and without their knowledge.
“He was basically a voyeur for God’s sake. Roxanne added, taking in deep breathes. She was way ahead of the curve and already into yoga. “When you took his money after his own campus radio station turned him down, didn’t that tell you something?”
“It told me I was scoring one for the AM side!” Now I was past ruffled, and onto wise cracks.
Roxanne ignored this. “Frankly, the most solid account you’ve brought us is the Starving Artist’s Group, and they only come to the Ramada once a year.”
From wisecracks, I went to sarcasm. “Hey what about the gold buyers? Sometimes they stay in town for two weeks. And the Starving artists come twice a year.”
“Still, you can’t build an advertiser portfolio based on the price of gold, or art sold by the yard. Needless to say, we have to wonder here at KDKA, if we have a match.”
I could have gotten mad. That would have been alright, natural enough. I could have cried, been disappointed, again that would have been alright. But what I got was worse. I got humiliated.
That’s the worst response I could have had because that kind of naked embarrassment makes a person want to fight and cry at the same time. It makes people want to hide away and beat up on themselves, but only after they’ve taken their anger and frustration out on the people who’ve made them fall so completely, so miserably, out of love with themselves.
Comments made to me over the past several months raced through my mind. Glen, congratulating me on my new suit. Roxanne laughing and telling me I’d lived in Wheeling too long after I mistook a bookcase for a gun cabinet. Laura commenting on my perm for the twentieth time; with Roz following up, asking me if I wanted her to recommend a new hairstylist. Brad telling me to call the things that hold up men’s pants braces, not suspenders, and informing me that not only movie stars owned tuxedos.
I got up from my seat, walked silently to my office at the end of the hall, and sat on the edge of my chair. The view from the little window held me transfixed for at least fifteen minutes and would have for a while longer if I hadn’t noticed Brad and Laura hovering in the doorway. The realization that these two may have known what had gone on in my meeting was beyond contemplation, but definitely not beyond addressing.
“What do you two want!?”
Laura jumped a good foot. “Nothing!”
Brad tried a smile. “We just wanted to know if you’re all right.”
“All right? Am I all right? I’m all right. Are you all right?”
While Brad and Laura backed out of my doorway into their offices, I gathered as many files as I could in both arms, and grabbed my WWVA tote bag from under the desk. “Cause I’m all right. I’ve never been better!”
I remember shouting to no one in particular as the elevator doors shut, “I listen to FM radio as a matter of fact! Cause there aren’t so many damn commercials!!!!” and leaving a trail of manila folders from my desk to the main entrance of Three Gateway Plaza.
After I spent 15 minutes wandering in a daze looking for my car, I finally found it in a side alley and dumped everything in the back seat. Then I got lost and turned around a few times on one way streets, searching for a sign pointing to I-79 South. Eventually, I found my way to the mall in Wheeling which felt like a safe place to pace and disappear inside myself. I ended up at my favorite payphone which was in the narrow corridor closest to Sears, next to the water fountain and the ladies' room.
“Hi Doug! How are ya ?"
“Ms. KDKA! What are you doin’ callin’ us, good ole boys, down here in Wheeling? I thought you were gettin’ too big-time for us down here?” Doug sounded genuinely surprised to hear from me, but also genuinely pleased. “How’s everything goin’ up there in Pittsburgh, at K-D-K-A?” Doug strung the letters out slowly.
“Pretty good, I guess.”
“Just pretty good?”
“Well, pretty good, but, shaky.”
“Shaky?” He repeated. He spoke slowly. “Shaky people? Situations? Customers?”
“Everything. All three.”
“Well,” Doug said, “That’s pretty shaky alright.” There was silence on the line for a few seconds. “Hey, did you eat yet? There’s a special out at the diner. I can round up the other salesmen, and maybe after lunch, we can all stop in at Ron Small’s Mobile Homes. We can rattle his cage, get a payment from him. We can always use your expertise in these sorts of situations.”
“Anything I can do to help,” I said and I meant it. “Glad to be of use.”
Message from the Old Saleswoman- I'm taking the summer off to work in the garden, sail with my husband, play with my dogs, and write some more stories. Writing and posting these stories has been a lot of fun, and I'll be back with more in the fall. Next story in the hopper- "Old Saleswoman, Back for a Rematch" then it's on to Miami. Thank you for reading !
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