96 Rocks. Ron Ph.D Hummer

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      “Well, it’s not like people want to work anymore,” Bruce said. “People go into McDonald’s, buy a cup of coffee, spill it on themselves, and McDonald’s gets sued for millions of dollars.”

      Herman and Tim shook their heads yes.

      Bruce took a deep breath and stretched his neck. “Everyone wants their payday. What was the comment, Tim?”

      Tim pressed his lips together. “I just said that if she wants to work for a station right away and be on morning drive, she should get some pictures taken in some hot outfits and send them off with the tapes.”

      “And that was it?”

      “Well, I said that you can watch a news program and see all these women in gorgeous outfits and they’re really good looking and it’s no wonder they’re working there.”

      “Well, maybe she was jealous that you said that,” Bruce ventured. “After all, those women probably came from Miss America contests and won beauty pageants.”

      “That’s true,” Herman said.

      “Well, she wants this on Tim’s permanent record.”

      “I don’t see any reason for that since she is leaving,” Herman said.

      “She also wants relief from her non-compete.”

      “We can’t let that happen,” Herman said.

      “I know,” Bruce replied. “Lets reconvene this afternoon and Tim, you can apologize for what you said and we can move on.”

      “That’s fine,” Tim said. “I’m sorry for all this.”

      “I know, Tim. Herman is always saying good things about you and I know you’re our top salesman. You’ll be here long after she is gone.”

      “Thank you,” Tim said.

      “We’ll settle this this afternoon,” Bruce said, clapping his hands. “The four of us will meet here at 3:00.”

      “Sounds good,” Herman said.

      “Okay.” Bruce turned and left the room.

      “Well, that’s that.” Herman said. “Just apologize to the kitten and everything will be okay.”

      “Fine. I don’t have a problem with that.”

      Herman gazed at his computer, looked at the e-mail he received from Joan. He shook his head as Tim stood up.

      “I have some meetings this morning,” Tim said. “Not sure I can be back in time for the sales meeting.”

      “That’s fine. No need for you to be there. Just keep bringing in accounts. How are we doing with mission John Carlton?”

      “We’re doing good. I’ve been covering his accounts since he was fired and I’ve been offering discounts to all of the clients that worked with him.”

      “Good.” Herman pressed a button on the computer and printed out the sales figures for the sales people. “That idiot actually thinks that he can go to work for a TV station and use his relationships with his clients that he had with us to get business for them. We’ll show him. No way he could sell TV time. He was never that good for us in the 5 years we had him. He’ll get eaten alive selling TV time.”

      “Yeah, he was a lousy salesman. I tried to help him but he just wouldn’t listen to me.”

      “I know. Just another complainer.”

      “He was pretty mad about the McDonald’s joke.”

      “It was probably a good thing you didn’t admit to him that you did that.”

      “It was a joke. I thought it was funny.”

      Herman grinned, clasped his hands behind his neck. “If he did his work half as hard as he complained, then he would have made his quota every month.”

      “I’m gonna get going,” Tim said.

      “Keep up the good work.”

      “Oh, almost forgot.” Tim bent over, grabbed the Penthouse magazine from under the couch and handed it to Herman. Herman took it, opened his desk drawer, then put it in there.

      Herman picked up the phone as Tim left the room, said “Joan, I need to speak with you, now.”

      Joan walked inside as Tim left, shutting the door behind her. Herman picked up the 10 page sales report and held it up. “What’s wrong with this report?”

      “I wanted to check it over again.”

      “You checked it over yesterday,” Herman growled. “I’ll ask you again. What’s wrong with this report?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “Where is the logo?”

      “I didn’t think you needed...”

      “I told you,” Herman broke in, “that I want the logo on the station for every document that I use especially during a sales meeting.” His voice grew louder. “What else is wrong with this report?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “Where is the date?”

      “I thought it was at the top.”

      “How do I know that you didn’t print the figures from last month. For all I know, you could have printed the wrong report.”

      “I’ll check again.”

      “You should have checked more carefully. What else is wrong with this report?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “You misspelled a name. Page 5. It’s Alix with an I. Not an E.

      “I’ll fix it.”

      “I thought you did this kind of work before.”

      She bit her lower lip. “I have.”

      “Doesn’t seem that way to me. Correct this report and get it back to me right away. And since we’re having a sales meeting today, I want you to order some pizza.”

      “Okay.”

      “Where is your pad?”

      “On my desk.”

      Herman rolled his eyes, looked up at the yellow ceiling. “I’ve told you countless times to bring your pad in here whenever you come in here.” He made two fists, threw them in the air and shook them. “Go out and get it and come back in and I’ll give you the order for the pizza.”

      “Fine.” She turned and left the room.

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