Wheeling- Chapter 4 "Cash in Advance!"

Story so far: The Old Saleswoman is thrilled to have made her first big sale at WWVA Radio-a remote broadcast from Ron Small's Mobile Homes. But she has to get cash in advance.

It was about eleven am on a Friday morning in early May. Lou, a WWVA announcer, and I were two hours into a three-hour remote broadcast. The weather had cleared after some early morning showers but had left behind a series of mud puddles in front of, and in between, the dozen or so mobile homes sitting on the edge of route forty, at Ron Small’s Mobile Homes.

A temporary sign with black plastic letters, sat in a two-inch deep puddle, telling everyone to “Kiss Your Landlord Good-Bye!”. One of the banners hung up for the occasion had fallen across the front of the sign, so it read “Kiss your _____Lord Goodbye!”. I’d made a mental note earlier to move it, but with all the excitement and confusion brought on by the appearance of the fake Box Car Willie earlier that morning, it had slipped my mind.

Box Car Willie was a popular country singer in the ’70s, who had inspired a few imitators. There was one fake Box Car who was especially good, affecting the appropriate suspenders, pork pie hat, red bandana, and full red beard perfectly. He even kept a train whistle in the back pocket of his overalls to blow when things got dull, or attention was lacking.

He liked to hang out at radio remotes, shopping center openings, parades, or anywhere else where there might be a small crowd and free food. The real Box Car Willie had gotten wind of these “Fake Box Cars” and sent out a list of secret questions and answers for city officials and radio station managers to ask if any Box Car Willies showed up at an event. Lou had tested our Box Car about an hour ago, and he had failed miserably. His removal had been a little rough and Lou was just now getting back in good form.

“Good Morning Ohio Valley, it's eleven fifteen and we’ll be broadcasting here till noon at Ron Small’s Mobile Homes, and I’ve got albums to give away. The first person to show up here at Ron Small’s Mobile Homes with a full set of their own teeth gets a Statler Brothers album."

I looked over at Lou, to see if he was kidding. And if so, if he thought any of the listening audience would get the joke with good humor.

“Look Lou, here come a couple of our listeners now. I can see the gun rack hanging in the cab of the truck.”

Now Lou looked at me to see if I was kidding. I wasn't. “You go ahead and talk to them, they didn't come here to see me." Lou gave me no argument there. “I’ve got to track down Ron Small.”

Ron Small had a distinct look, so he should have been easy to spot anywhere in the mobile home lot. He always wore pastel Sansabelt pants, cowboy boots, and a striped engineer’s cap.

But I hadn’t seen Ron all morning, and I was getting very nervous. I needed fifteen hundred dollars that morning. He’d even given the fake Box Car a wide berth; probably because he thought he might be connected to the radio station and could be looking for money too.

I headed to the yellow doublewide surrounded by artificial plants that Ron used for an office. The plants added a little glamour, but they also served a strategic purpose. They provided a place for the mobile home salesmen to hide and size up the customers in privacy. As I got closer to the steps of the doublewide I noticed the leaves rustling on one of the fichus, and a couple of sets of eyes peering out.

“It’s just me guys, the sales lady from the radio station.”
The rustling abruptly stopped.

I found Ron at the kitchen table of the doublewide trying to close a deal with a young couple who’d been at the remote since early morning. The husband was tall and thin and wore a navy blue windbreaker with white letters on the back, Powhatan No.6. His wife looked very young, very tired, and wore a matching navy blue windbreaker with identical lettering. A baby, about 6 months old, sat in the crook of her arms, grabbing at long strands of dark blonde hair. Lou’s live broadcast boomed in the background.

Ron was in high gear. “Now if the down payment is a problem, I bet that pretty wife of yours has a Christmas Club account at First Wheeling with enough to get things started. All we need…..”

The husband abruptly put his hand up to stop Ron in mid-pitch. When Ron didn’t even slow it down, he raised his voice, “I’ve got to hear this….it’s the mine closings.”
"SAGO MINE CLOSED, McELROY MINE CLOSED, POWHATAN NO. 6 CLOSED”

The young husband peered out from under his John Deere cap at his wife, and slowly shook his head while Ron ran his hand through his hair preparing to gear up again. He started to say something to save the sale, but stopped for a moment when he noticed me hovering a few feet away in the breakfast nook waiting for a break in the conversation. I hoped for both our sakes I hadn’t thrown him off his stride.

Continued in Chapter 5 Conclusion to Wheeling "This Saleslady Needs Paid"

Wheeling Chapter 3 "Mobile Home Paradise"

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.”

To be Continued in Chapter 4 "Cash in Advance!"