Not Number One, But Way Up there. (Excerpt)


Sold Out Book I should be writing my will after this but here goes:

When I told my wife this story, she told me to get a lobotomy and get my attic cleaned out.

When I was a rep, one of my accounts was the University of New Mexico, School of Radiopharmacy. They used our products but they also had something of more value to me. Their students. Once they graduated, they would most likely get placed in all the radiopharmacies I made my living from. I still get birthday cards from a few of them.

I spent tons of money on them, took them to Vegas, got naked in hot tubs with them and wined and dined them until they were fattened up for the kill.

They told me stuff they couldn’t even tell their priest. I don’t drink, so I took advantage. Never trust a man who doesn’t drink.

They were so brainwashed by the time they graduated, I just had to harvest them when they were placed in my territory. I call it front loading.

So the phone rings one night and it’s a recent graduate who just got placed at a radiopharmacy in Tucson. She asked me to come down and take her to dinner to celebrate her graduation and her new job. This is what I do.

So I book reservations at a 5 star restaurant in the Catalina Mountains, Michael’s, overlooking the city. Easily securing her loyalty for the rest of her life. Like I said, it’s what I do.

After a few drinks on an empty stomach, she starts to change. I’ve seen this before. Alcohol. It takes no prisoners.

Now she is moody and becoming morose. She is festering and starts to mumble about some “rotten bastard”. I want her to spill but I have to be careful. “Waiter, more drinks over here, please!”

Then, out it comes. She had been having an affair with her clinical instructor at the university and out of the blue he ups and marries one of her classmates. Now, I know this guy very well, big, strapping, masculine, homophobic, weight lifter, 6’2 at around 260.

One more drink and now she’s sobbing, swearing, moaning and starts banging on the table. The waiter starts giving me the hairy eyeball and needs me to get this under control in a hurry.

“Well, see how she likes shoving that thing up his ass all the time” she blurts. Whoa! I mean, whoa! Rewind the tape please.

D-D-Details, how do I get more details without spooking her? Another drink and I get my wish in spades. Everything and more. Way more. Now I want to use the pay phone. But then I think, what a bitch. You tell a gas bag like me something like that and not expect it to go nationwide? She’s using me to get even with him. Have to admit, if that was her plan, she’s got the right guy. I was more effective than cable TV. I think of him again, so macho, so butch, he does have a nice ass, but nah, she’s gotta be lying. No way.

Now, I don’t trust her. Anyone who would peddle a story like that about someone, anyone for any reason is evil, I’m thinking. So after a very sloppy dinner, I carry her out of there and back to her hotel and start the two hour journey back to Phoenix.

But I am shook. I am now sitting on serious customer information (as I like to call it) and as much as I hate to admit it, I was never above a little friendly blackmail to get me to Executive Council.

I didn’t sleep very well that night. The visual. The shock. The vindictiveness. Having to keep my mouth shut was even more excruciating.

Three weeks later, I’m back in New Mexico, in his office. He says, with an evil grin, you want to see my new pencil sharpener? I say sure and he motions for me to close the door. He opens his file cabinet and pulls out a plastic object that looks like a guy bending over with cloth boxer shorts.

He gleefully pulls the shorts down and shove a pencil up his ass until this loud whirring commences. The look on his face while he was sharpening that pencil told the whole story. His eyes rolled back in his head as he shivered with delight.

OMG! The visual is back. It’s true. It’s all true.

The next week, I’m traveling with my boss Dave, back to Tucson, and I tell him the whole story. He doesn’t say a word. At first. Then his breathing quickens and he starts to softly groan which quickly escalates to screams and he opens his window and starts to try to jump out at 75 mph.

Aaaaahhh! Where do you get this shit? Why do you tell me these things? What’s going on out here? Then the screaming starts again.

Dave, I was only trying to give you my territory anal-ysis. Sheesh!

Please note: I welcome comments that are offensive, illogical or off-topic from readers in all states of consciousness.

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