Velociworld

CIRCLE OF LIFE

My sales call in the City went okay today, if one considers okay having a $40 million account tell one you fucking SUCK! and I thought we had a DEAL! and you bastards LIE! and this is no way to treat your very bestumous CUSTOMER!

Actually, it was much worse than that. So bad, in fact, that my boss didn't even show up, claiming a bad back. Dialed in from 800 miles away, while your humble correspondent bore the brunt face to face. Fact 1, we deserved it. Fact 2, it was not my call. I was only the messenger, and you know what they say about messengers: thank them for their candor, buy them a really fine meal in Manhattan, then score them some fucking lapdances, for crissakes.

I'm pretty used to this sort of thing, however. Rolls off my back like a Sysiphean rock, it does.

Which brings me to my next issue. My customer in Charlotte, perhaps sniffing the unmistakable scent of fucked organization in the air, cancelled on me for tomorrow. And so I shall stay north, and visit some other customers in North Jersey tomorrow, who still like me, their day in the barrel not having arrived yet, and onwards to the Hovel Thursday. With luck and a poultice I can turn one of these customers against the esteemed company, but I'm more the fence mender type. At any rate come 4 of the o'clock I'm pulling the fucking pin on work. If anyone wants to hang in Ironbound, or Rutherford, or anywhere in this godforsaken hellhole Garden of Eden I'm available. Shit, I'll even go into the City and see Lion King. An apt metaphor for the take downs I endure of late.