Packing Heat at work

            Several years ago I got my concealed carry permit.  For the sake of this blog we’ll glass over the reasons why I have it to avoid some political issues.  …after all it’s a blog about sales, and its free…so you’ll get what you pay for.

            When I interviewed at the Ford dealership I worked at for a few years I had just started carrying my pistol every day.  Not only did I interview with a loaded handgun but when I filled out all the HR paperwork I used my CCW permit as a second form of ID.  (It was still in the stage where you feel like everyone should know you carry a firearm)

            After a few months most of the people at the dealership knew I always had a loaded gun on me.  When we had unruly customers or “shady” visitors in the dealership I found myself becoming increasingly more popular to talk to. 

            A few of my managers gave me grief for having it and I jokingly replied, “I do the one thing your mom told you NEVER do repeatedly ALL DAY…get into cars with strangers!”  We all kind of laughed it off and it was no big deal for 98% of the people I worked with.  As a matter of fact many of my co-workers mentioned how glad a “level headed” guy had a gun in the dealership should anything go horribly wrong.

            Rather than breaking these stories out into individual blogs I’ll just sum up the highlights of carrying a loaded firearm into work.

NSA CUSTOMER:

A self proclaimed “NSA Contractor” customer who told me on the test drive his previous job included “jumper cables, sponges, a metal folding chair, and a car battery” was giving me the run around one night.  He claimed he didn’t have credit because he was a ghost in another country and yadda yadda… 

We finally get ready to sit down an talk numbers on the used, high mileage, Volvo SUV he fell in love with and he says, “Before we begin…you need to realize you don’t know what I have under the table.”  And he motioned down with his eyes as he leaned back with a smirk and crossed his legs.

At first I thought the guy was referring to his penis.  (not kidding)  But after a few seconds and a few other leading comments I realized he was indicating he had a firearm.  I laughed and said, “Are we really playing ‘what are we packing’ at the dealership?”

His grin turned into a smile.  I said, “I’ve got 15 and 1 of 120 grain 9mm Hornady Critical Defense +P…what do you have?”  (serious business with lots bullets)  His grin disappeared and he shrank a little in his seat.   “I’ve got 7 rounds of 380…” (might do some damage if you hit the right spot at close range) 

We ended up not coming to terms because he had no credit…and no money to put down on the car.  If I had to guess it was a guy who’s wife and kids were out of town and he wanted to play badass at a dealership.

ANGRY COP

            I got pulled over while on a test drive with a family in an Explorer Sport.  The cop had been pulling over anyone without a tag from out dealership all week and I guess it was my turn to get caught.

            When he approached the car I had my window down and told him I was the salesman.  He angrily instructed me to head to the back of the vehicle, and I complied. 

            Now when you have a concealed carry you’re obligated to notify law enforcement you have a weapon immediately.  Once you tell them you have a weapon, and don’t make sudden movements, you’re also obligated to comply with their commands.  These can include everything up to being temporarily put into handcuffs.

            “GOD DAMNIT DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW STUPID YOU ARE!?!?!?!”  he had apparently been building up a head of steam and started to vent.  “I told you guys to put dealer plates on these cars…”

            Every time he took a breath I put my hand up, as if to speak, and said “Officer…I need…” and he went back into his tyrade.  After 4 or 5 attempts to speak while he threatened to do all kinds of things that would suck I finally gently placed my hand on his shoulder.  “Officer, I’m legally obligated to tell you I have my concealed carry on my right hip…its loaded…and my permit is in my front jacket pocket.  How would you like to proceed?”

            He literally locked up for a few seconds.  When he finally processed I hadn’t been arguing with him this whole time I was trying to tell him I had a loaded gun on me his tone changed.  “Get in the car.  Drive back to the dealership…now.”

            We got back to the dealership and I introduced him to my “evil” manager who got the ass chewing of a lifetime.  When the cop came out I stopped him and apologized for our interaction and thanked him for not writing me a ticket. 

            My “evil” manager asked how I got out of the ticket everyone else in the dealership had got that month.  “Easy, I told him what I legally had to tell him and he let me off.” 

            “What did you ‘have’ to tell him?”  He asked in a snarky and condescending tone.  I replied, “That I have a concealed firearm that’s loaded…”  and with that my “evil” managers face went white.  My “good” manager let out a belly laugh and said, “You moron…Trowbridge is always packin’ heat…you can see it when his shirt comes untucked!!!”

FIRED PTSD CO-WORKER

            This one pisses me off to this day.  But they fired, for the second or third time, a guy in my department.  He was definitely a bit “off” and had a military background.  He claimed to be special forces but many of us had our doubts based on things he said.

            One day I was delivering a car and I get a call from my General Manager.  “Justin, do you have your gun on you today?”  I replied “yes”  “…does ______ have a gun that you know of?”  He in fact had a handgun in his truck.  “…where are you by the way?”

            I found out when I got back that my co-worker had been fired.  Not “let go” but shit canned…hard…and with no remorse.  HR was there because it was a bad situation all around.  My genius GM wanted me back in the dealership to protect the place should he return with his gun.

            After I regained the ability to speak I told him “I don’t like you well enough to shoot my former co-worker to protect your ass.  If you have a problem or a concern like that CALL THE POLICE FIRST!!!!”

            After they fired my co-worker they went to a “gun free zone” and almost lost half of the people who worked there.  My somewhat unstable co-worker has been rehired and refired a few times from there as well.

            The crazy part of it all was the times I really struggled to connect to my customers the subject that dropped the walls was firearms.  It could have been anything from hunting to handguns to carrying concealed…but when it came time to talk about firearms I sold a car.  A few of my customers even sent me photos of their latest purchases after they were driving the car for a few months!

            The lesson learned here is to never underestimate the person on the other side of the table.  I found out that more often than I expected I was dealing with an armed person.  It may have been the location in somewhat rural Nebraska, but there are a lot of people who support the second amendment.  Sometimes its best to treat everyone you meet like they’re packin’…you might get an unexpected sale out of the conversation.

The power of merchandising, and a scary looking power tool

            In my time as a wine and spirit distributor I had a blast merchandising my territory to sell more alcohol.  Its no surprise the reason Budweiser sells so much beer is because everywhere you look you see their logos.  It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the more your brands are seen in a location the more likely they will be purchased, and then reordered by your customer.

            With that in mind I started to cover my territory with point of sale materials.  At one point I was actually yelled at for taking out too much point of sale materials from the warehouse!  My manager at the time laughed and told the vice president who wanted to write me up “you’re going to write him up for doing what nobody else is doing?”  and after a long pause the subject was dead.

            He was right, we had TONS of stuff sitting in the warehouse collecting dust that nobody was using.  So, being a resourceful person, I started taking everything I could get my hands on and using it to promote my stuff.

            One of my favorite accounts was a marina on the river just north of town.  The place wasn’t much to look at but it was a great summer hangout for locals and boaters going up and down the river.  They sold a ton of drinks and until I showed up hadn’t really had anyone supporting them from my company.

            I brought up anything island themed I could find in the warehouse.  Fake palm trees, inflatable beach balls, necklaces, blinking lights, you name it.  The industry term for some of the smaller items is/was “trinkets and trash” by the way.  I billed out a few bar kits with other supporting items like shirts and table tents.

            After I get their attention they let me decorate the entire bar with whatever I wanted!  They were selling my stuff like it was going out of style and the orders were starting to show it.

            I billed out a few bar mirrors and took them up with a box of 6” long deck screws.  As I was driving in the screws with my cordless drill the owner came up.  “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!?!”  I finished the one screw I was working on and turned to her.

            “I figure someone is going to steal these mirrors…they’re nice right?”  She nodded.  “So…if some drunk wants to back 36 inches of deck screws with a dime or their bare fingers…they can have this.”  With that the shocked look on her face turned into a smile and she began to laugh.

            “You’ve got a point!”  and with that she walked off to tell the rest of the staff the story.

            After a few bar parties and a few weeks of proving I was there to stay it came time to pitch the big pitch.  They finally trusted me with their signature drink recipe and wanted to see if we could make it cheaper for them.  In their hay days they would take 55 gallon trash cans and mix up 5-6 at a time to keep up with demand.

            I worked out the numbers and grabbed my Black & Decker reciprocating saw with a 10” blade on it.  The day I decided to make the big pitch I happened, not entirely on accident, to show up when my biggest competitor showed up.  I was planning on stealing one of his biggest accounts for rum.  At the time they happened to use Captain Morgan Parrot Bay for their coconut flavored rum…I sold Malibu.

            I sauntered into the bar and saw my competitor walking through a normal shelf order, a few bottles here and there.  After nodding to him I pulled up a chair at the bar and pulled out my reciprocating saw and dropped it on the bar.  I went about my business and ignored the two of them while he hurried up his final few points.  He made a back handed comment about my saw and left, seemingly unconcerned about what I was doing.

            The bar manager asked “What the hell is that for?” and I told him not to worry about it.  I went about pointing out the half empty bottles on the bar and seeing what he needed.  “No, seriously…what the hell is that for?”  He kept breaking the conversation to ask, each time I pushed on with the normal order.  “DAMNIT…WHAT IS THAT THING DOING ON MY BAR!?!?!” 

            I smiled and said “Well you know what this is right?”

            “Yeah, it’s a Black & Decker power saw…”  I slapped the tool like it was a good dog.

            “And how did you know what it was?”  I asked.

            “Everybody knows Black & Decker…its one of the biggest names in power tools…”  I nodded.

            “So if everybody knows the quality, the reputation, and the pedigree that comes with this brand what does it say about someone who uses it?”  I asked.

            “It means you know what the f*@k you’re doing…”  I smiled.

            “So if you use a knock off brand what does that make you?”  and with that I leaned in to hear his response.

            “It means you’re a moron…”  he threw back with an indignant tone in his voice.

            “Ok…so if all that’s true…why are you NOT putting Malibu Coconut rum in your main drink?  It’s the original coconut rum everyone knows…”  and in the middle of the somewhat corny response his jaw went slack.  “Captain Morgan is a cheap knock off brand that imitates Malibu.  I know it, you know it, your customers now it.  If they cost the same per ounce what would you choose?  Better yet, if I could get you a better deal on the original brand and support it with island themed signs and other fun stuff for the bar do you think you’d sell more?”

            I’ll spare you how the rest of this interaction went and get to the punch line.  The next week the very same VP who wanted to write me up for taking out too much point of sale materials called me to make sure I hadn’t made a huge mistake on an order.  “Justin I’m looking at 3 ½ pallets of product going to a Marina in your territory…did you mean to put in bottles and instead hit cases?  We need to cancel this order before it goes out!” 

            I wish I could have been there to see the look on his face when I said, “Nope…no mistake…all $12,000 of that order needs to ship.  They’re on the way with 3 trucks now to pick it up.  We may need a refill by the end of the summer too.”  My little stunt with the power saw had sealed the deal to switch over everything in the bar they could to me.  I went from 15% market share in the bar to 75% or more because of the volume we were now doing.

            Unfortunately the bar ended up on some hard times later that summer.  The owners son was found dead in the bed of his pickup truck, he had aspirated on his own vomit.  The bar manager who was sleeping with the owner had ran off and the “kids” who ran the bar had left without warning.  1/3 of the order had to come back to avoid losing it to the bank in the bankruptcy.

            The VP never got on my case for merchandising again.  Suppliers actually started asking me what I wanted to put up in my territory directly!  Never underestimate the power of brand awareness.

The smelly truck that sold - Good Manager story #2

            So I tipped my old manager off that I was writing a “compare and contrast” blog between his management style and my other manager while in the car industry.  True to form he was very thankful of the praise but humble in his response.  With that kind of attitude I was reminded of a deal I got caught in the middle of.

            In the auto industry the “holy grail” for some guys is a diesel truck with a stick shift.  Why major auto makers don’t offer this anymore is beyond me, they sold like crazy with HUNDREDS of thousands of miles on the odometer.  We happened to have a truck like this in inventory one week.

            The demand for these trucks are so high this truck had a unique story to it.  A tree had fallen on it during a storm.  The tree had dented the fenders, roof, door, and broken out some lights on the flat bed on the back.  (no rails just a flat metal surface)  But rather than fix it we left it as is and sold it that way.  The phone rang off the hook for days on this truck.

            I finally got ahold of a guy who wanted the truck.  He had a truck that was 2 years older and used it for work.  He was a (legit) professional cowboy in North Platte NE.  He was a pen rider in the cattle yards and spent his entire day in the saddle on horseback.  In his spare time he made and sold saddles!  His truck had the smaller engine offered by Dodge and was an automatic.

            “You realize a tree fell on this thing right?”  I said skeptically over the phone.  “Yup, don’t care…its perfect!  I’ll take it!” you could hear the excitement in his voice.  So we worked out the deal over the phone and because he was a nice guy I offered to meet him half way between Omaha and North Platte.  Cutting his 5 hour drive to 2 ½ and meeting him on a Sunday to boot!

            My finance manager dragged his feet on getting the paperwork for me all week and finally handed them to me on Saturday night.  I looked through the paperwork and noticed a $1800 charge for undercoating on the truck.  When I asked him about it he said “Don’t worry about it…it helps her hit her number for the month.  You’re good…just get him to sign it.”  “Her” in this case was our aftermarket specialist who was making money for nothing and had her own issues.

            “(Expletives deleted) you’re giving me a hot deal for me to deal with, on a Sunday, knowing I have to drive a truck that has been used in a cattle ranch back to Omaha?!?!?”  And, he laughed…she laughed too…they thought it was hilarious and I was stuck with nobody left in the building to change the documents.

            That night I happened to spend some time with my (good) manager outside of work.  He could see that something was bugging the hell out of me and when he asked it came spewing out of me.  I could see he was also pissed about the situation as he had worked hard to put the deal together on his end.

            I decided to take the truck out there and present the information to him.  In the back of my head I knew we could always amend the paperwork and send him the papers in the mail.  I left the next day for my all day affair in the trucks.

            About 30 minutes into the drive an alarm went off in the truck.  The diesel particulate filter was (apparently) full and the truck went into “limp mode” where it “limps” into a dealership to be fixed.  In a panic I get on my phone and try to figure out what the hell happened, only to have my phone die…with no charger.

            I get to town a little early and stop by 3 different auto stores seeing if they can fix it.  They weren’t any help and in the process the drivers side window got stuck open.  Apparently the damage to the door wasn’t allowing it to roll back up.

            After taking a deep breath and buying a charger for my phone I drove over to the truck stop to meet my customer.  He shows up with his wife and kids.  The little boy gets out, in full cowboy attire, and runs up to his new truck and calls “SHOTGUN”. 

We walk around the truck and he’s in love.  I show him the damage spots and he’s ok with them because they’ll probably get beat up when he uses it.  He even knows how to fix the window and isn’t worried about it.  The diesel particulate filter isn’t even a problem for him because he’s got a diesel guy at the yard who can fix it! 

After introducing me to the family and walking around the truck I ask him if they were doing anything else in town while they were here.  “We’ll probably grab a bite to eat since they’ve got restaurants we don’t have in our town”

            “Lets go do the paperwork at Buffalo Wild Wings then!”  The family blows up with excitement… “On me as a thank you because of the window thing too”

            After a lunch I’ll never forget where I learn more about cows than I’ll ever need to know I hand him the papers.  He signs them all and reads through everything.  He even puts his finger on the $1800 charge but doesn’t say a word, my heart breaks.  We wrap up the paperwork and I swap keys with him.  The kids give me a hug and he gives me the kind of solid handshake you would expect to come from a solid guy like this.

            His trade had at least 1” of “dirt” on the inside along with horse hair, cow hair, dog hair, and god knows what.  I drove home with the windows open so I could see through the tears in my eyes.  Oh yeah, did I mention he drove his truck home, with the window stuck open, in 35 degree weather for 2 ½ hours?

            On the drive home the base of my skull goes numb.  I’m so angry at what had just happened I felt like I was on the verge of an aneurism.  I get back and call my manager and he calms me down.  “Don’t worry buddy…I’ve got a plan for Monday”

            Monday morning comes in and I literally throw the deal in my finance managers face.  I have a few choice words for him too but you can guess what I said.  As I walk out of his office I’m met in the hallway with my (good) manager.

            He’s got a copy of the deal in hand and has the charge highlighted.  He closes the door and has a long conversation with the finance manger.  I never get to find out what was said but things changed from that day on with our finance department.

            We call the guy who has since noticed the strange charge.  I agree that the charge shouldn’t be there and we give him a few options.  We could send him a check for the amount or we could buy a brush guard/cow pusher bumper for him with the money.  He was planning on putting one on the truck when he had the cash and we could get a discount on the deal.

            He ends up taking the bumper and uses the remaining money to buy a second hand exhaust to fix the diesel particulate filter issue.  We fix the paperwork and everything goes back to the way it should be.  When I call him a month later he invites me to stay with his family and go Coyote hunting sometime.  The kids are in the background and I can hear them ask “Is that Justin?!  Tell him hi”.

            The way that deal went down the (evil) manager could have made it stick.  We delivered papers and the customer accepted them with the vehicle.  “Congratulations, you’re an owner” goes the line from the movie Suckers.  But instead the (good) manager and I found a way to work around the wrong doings of others and in the process put a stop to future shenanigans.  From that deal on our “shoot from the hip” finance manager cleaned up his act and never pushed a dirty deal through me again.  Finding an ally when it comes to doing the right thing is always important.  I was so furious my “options” at the time were to punch the finance guy in the face or quit, or both.  Cooler heads prevailed and while the process was a bit painful, and smelled terrible, it worked out benefiting the rest of our group.

Bipolar manager who loved to hate

            Of all the managers I’ve ever had, the all time worst manager I’ve had almost killed me.  I know you may think that’s a figure of speech but I mean it in a literal sense.  The managerial style of this man was so far out of whack that I began to respond to it physically, and my health declined.

            It all started off well, nothing out of the ordinary and I kind of enjoyed the way we interacted.  As time went on and the “honeymoon” phase of being the new hire wore off the reality set in.  As time went on it grew worse and worse and there wasn’t much we, as a sales staff, could do.

            There are so many examples of how terrible this guy was that I could write a whole series of stories about him in this blog.  Having just written that I may have to do that as part of my ongoing process of moving on from this nightmare.

            In the car business, as a salesman,  you have to bring your deals to the sales manager when you’re working them.  The process starts with filling out a worksheet on your customer.  Once you’ve got all the pertinent information you take it to your manager and they go to work.

            “Oh my god…what do you want?” he would say.  “You’re ruining my life…why are you up here again?!?”  Once you handed him the worksheet his demeanor would change.  “Ok…cool…well lets work and get you a car deal.”  He would pencil the details on the sheet and hand it back.  “Here you go, you got this you can do it.”  And then you’d walk back to your customer.

            Ninety percent of America realizes the first offer from a dealership is designed to put you on the ceiling.  Its so far from what  you asked if anyone took the first pencil you knew there was a bigger problem waiting down the line.  You did what we were trained to do and get an offer, sometimes with a check in hand.

            “How’d you do?” he would say as he read the paper you handed him with the new offer.  “Oh my god…this is pathetic!  That’s the best offer you can get from this customer?!?  Do you want me to get a real salesman to go over and fill out the order form?”  Sometimes he would grab a salesman working another deal and “jokingly” ask if he could step in and close the deal. 

            After some scribbling and some number crunching he would hand the paper back.  “Ok…you’ve got a car deal here you just need to get their thinking up a little from this offer.  You’re close and you can do this.”  And with that he’d send you back.

            After yet more negotiation with the customer you’d head back up to the “tower of power” for more bludgeoning from him.  “Holy catfish!  You’re doing a great job representing the customer today…you know we’d like to make some money here.”  It was at this point, by the prescribed procedural guidelines he had the option of stepping in and working with the customer himself.  Sometimes he would grab one of the newer sales managers to do it for him.  “Can you go sell this guy a car…he apparently can’t do it.  Get out of my face.” 

            So now, assuming he got off his ass and didn’t take a phone call from his wife in the middle of the deal, he’s walking in to work with your customer.  The same customer who you’ve been telling him “$10,000 down and $1500 a month is the best we can do” when they asked for zero down and $500 a month for 60 months.

            He would walk in with a big cheesy smile and a token laugh at a bad joke.  He would make small talk about anything obvious and then act like he’d never seen the numbers in his hand.  As the salesman you were required to sit there and not say a word.  Frequently, you were standing behind him looking like a moron staring at his chicken scratches.

            “So if I could get you close to that $500 a month for 60 months would you buy the car today?”  The would obviously shake their head “yes” and he’d say.  “Ok, let me go to work for you and see if we can make that happen.”  And we’d walk back up to the tower.

            “God damn it why didn’t you do _______” was usually the first thing he said.  Ironically followed by “They’re nice people though…you’ve got a car deal here…hang in there.”  If there was an attractive woman in the mix he would make a comment about having her move in with him in the small town he lived in. 

            In the final stages of the deal he would sometimes tell you to “write it up ya big softie” and you’d go write up the deal.  Other times he would take another stab at the customer to ultimately find a middle ground.  Regardless of how the deal was struck as you gathered the 15 different forms to put the deal together every time you walked within ear shot he would make a cutting remark about how worthless you were.

            This happened every time you had to work a deal with him.  It took different forms when you had to interact with him on different things as well.  Ultimately I was so enraged by the way he treated me I was drinking the 5 Hour energy sleep aide in the middle of the day to calm down. 

            There were half a dozen times where, in an argument started by him, I found myself gnashing my teeth and with a white knuckled fist repeating, “You can’t hit him…you can’t hit him.” 

            In the car business it’s a dog eat dog world, there’s no getting around this.  But the difference between horsing around and poking fun at your buddy and managerial bullying is night and day.  For one month I chose to only respond to him with “yes” or “no”.  Anything else was in as few words as possible. 

            Because I wouldn’t engage with his crap he would try it and it wouldn’t go anywhere.  It infuriated him so much he began to badger me when I was away from him.  By not engaging in the bashing and berating behavior from him and waiting to work deals with the other managers I found a loophole.

            That month was the salesman of the month and sold the most cars in my career.  I sold them to spite my manager and the hatred of this man drove me in a way that was scary.

            This was also the month I was pulled over on a test drive and got out of it when I disclosed to the officer I had my concealed carry on me.  That’s right, I carried a loaded 9mm handgun on me at the dealership from my interview until the day they banned it.  When I got back he was giving me shit about the ordeal and asked how I got out of it.  “You’re not that good of a salesman so how did you get out of the ticket?”  I smiled and told him “I told him what I was legally obligated to tell him…I have a concealed carry, its loaded, and my permit is in my wallet.”

            The look on his face was priceless when I showed him the imprint of my handgun on my shirt.  My used car manager at the time was a close friend of mine and belly laughed.  “You dumbass, he’s been packing since he started!  Trowbridge is always strapped!  You might want to lay off him in the future too you jackass!”  He did for a few weeks but went right back to it.

            I’ve run into dozens of people who worked with this man over the years.  Almost every single one of them has similar stories.  The part that really disturbed me was that he was a sponsor for AA.  Someone trying to get their life back in line had this asshole to rely on when they were fighting their demons.  It makes me sick just thinking about it.  I will always remember working with him…and I’ll always remember how NOT to manage people.

Moral dilemmas and kissing the bumper of a Kenworth

            When I was selling liquor I had a territory that covered 3000 miles in a month.  I was responsible for 144 accounts in my territory and covered every type of retailer you could work with in my industry.  I sold ½ pints of cheap vodka in the morning in the inner city and then high end wine in the afternoon at a white linen dining establishment.  It was a mental workout just keeping it all organized in my head.

            Compound this by the fact the next highest number of accounts in my division was under 40.  They drove under 1000 miles a month…and yet we got the same amount of reimbursement for fuel…$100.  But that’s not what this post is about.  And yes, I’m still bitter.

            One of my accounts was almost on the South Dakota border.  It was so far north the owner of the account only needed to see me, in person, once a month.  Everything else was done by phone.  With that kind of understanding I made it a point to show up when I promised them no matter what the conditions.

            One fall day I was up at the bottle shop enjoying a pickle.  (They added extra salt to these gigantic kosher pickles and they were amazing)  The bottle shop was close to a Native American reservation, so a majority of the patrons were natives.  As I was talking to the owner in walked a man who took my totally by surprise.

            The man was walking with a cane and his face looked like Frankenstein.  And by that I mean his face was covered with scars from where they had stitched his face back together at one point.  His eyes were milky white and he spoke with a slur through a mouth that was missing most of the teeth.

            He ordered a pint of vodka and slowly shuffled out.  The owner of the bottle shop said “see you in a bit!”.  Slightly taken back by the shape of the man I asked what the story was.

            Apparently our friend lived a few blocks away.  He was known to drink a lot and one day ran out of booze before he passed out.  So, he walked up to the bottle shop to buy more booze.  On his way out he stumbled into the road in front of the shop.  That’s where he met the front grille of a Kenworth truck hauling grain.

            The impact with the truck stopped his heart.  His body was thrown several yards and the impact with the concrete restarted his heart.  He was rushed to the hospital and was stitched back up, lucky to be alive. 

            After many surgeries and a long recovery process our friend also won his law suit against the trucker and/or trucking company.  When he got back home he threw a huge party…where he got drunk and ran out of booze.

            He staggered up to the bottle shop and bought a 1.75 of vodka this time.  On the way out of the shop and back to his house a pickup truck lost control and hit him with a glancing shot. 

            He also sued this driver and after his recovery he threw yet another party.  At this point I was waiting for the punch line of the joke.  I’m sure you’re doing the same thing reading this right now…or you’re yelling at your monitor. 

            At the party he ran out of booze again.  …I’ll spare you the details but it was a car this time.  And he sued them as well.  Luckily he learned his lesson and didn’t throw a party this time.

            Basically this man had been detonated and rebuilt several times over.  He lived in constant pain and was unable to work.  Luckily he was able to live off the settlements from his accidents and was financially set.

            I asked my customer why he still came up to the shop.  “Oh it takes him an hour and a half to walk up here.”  I was speechless.  “He’s only a few blocks away but the walk slows his drinking down.  That’s why he only buys the pints of vodka.”  Just then another local walked in and commented on the man I was just starting to comprehend. 

            “Hes walking a lot better these days…maybe that car knocked something back into place.”  The man said as I sat there horrified.

            Apparently this man had come to terms with being an alcoholic.  His method of control was to only buy pints of vodka from the store up the street.  His 3 hour round trip and the hours of operation meant he was only there 3 or 4 times a day and didn’t get that drunk.

            This story has been the center of a 10 year struggle in my head.  While I wasn’t directly responsible for this mans shattered life, he was drinking my brand of vodka.  I had no control over what people do with the stuff once I sell it to a retailer but was I “allowed” to feel bad for this guy?

            As the person who sent cases of pints of vodka up each month, assumedly for this one man, was I contributing to this? 

            It was this story and several others that ultimately lead to me leaving the company.  Well…and several other things.  But the stories like this haunt me to this day.

            The only thing I have been able to find comfort in is where my responsibility ended.  There are just as many people who bought my products to celebrate something beautiful in life as there were people destroying theirs. 

            People make THEIR choices in life.  Some make good choices and others make bad ones.  Ultimately if you’re selling a product or products that can potentially ruin lives you need to be ready for this observation.  I made the choice to pay my bills and build my life by using my skills.  In this iteration my skills for creative problem solving and customer relationships made me a damn good liquor rep, but it doesn’t absolve me of the guilt.

How to beat the house...with technolgy.

    

This is one of my favorite “get even” stories.  When I was running my own business development company one of my clients ran an online gaming site.  The site didn’t use real money so you could gamble legally on it.  It was a loophole to be sure but the owner was proud of it.

            I came up with the idea of connecting the website to the casino’s on the river.  They had hosted events for me in the past and the connection was a no brainer.  If the casino advertised on the site it could put a ton of cash in our pockets at the same time.

            So with that I approached a marketing contact I had for the casino.  I told him about the site and how we were a legal gaming website in Nebraska who wanted to cross promote with their location.  At first he was excited to see what we came up with and gave me a ton of information on how the non gaming elements of the casino worked.

            The part he was most excited about was our ability to track emails.  My client owned an email program that not only tracked the open/read status of an email but could tell you who they forwarded it to, when they opened it, what links they clicked on, the associated IP addresses, and even the number of times you opened it.  When it came to generating a true ROI this program was amazing.

            At the end of our meeting he asked me to present a few ideas to them for review and then they would get back to us.  Whenever a meeting goes this well I tend to get a little excited and had 15 to 20 ideas within a few hours.  It didn’t hurt that I could also tie in several of my other clients into the promotions and double down on the exposure.

            After I narrowed the ideas down to 10 or so I sent him my standard non-disclosure email.  The response I got back gave me that horrible “pit of the stomach” feeling.  “I won’t sign this.  We represent one of the largest Casino properties in the world…if you can’t trust us then I guess we’re done here.”  I called him shortly after my stream of profanity had ceased.

            “You guys are a Casino…you’d bleed me dry at a table and then take my home if you had the chance…of course I don’t trust you!”  After an awkward laugh from him he restated the disheartening news.  I was at an impasse with the proposal…until I realized I had the email program.

            I agreed to forgo the NDA and sent him my proposal.  I sent it to him with a few embedded links to the other companies in the mix.  Most importantly though, I sent it through our email tracking system.

            Four weeks go by and he’s only returned a few emails from me.  Most of them said “we’ve been busy but I’ll get to it next week…I promise”.  And finally after a month I called him.

            “Just wanted to follow up and see if you had a chance to review our proposal?” 

            “Ah man…I’ve been swamped with execs in from out of town.  I don’t think I’ve even had a chance to open the original document” he told me.

            “Really?  I think you opened it this morning at about 9:35am from this IP address.  (read him the IP)  Furthermore, that’s the 8^th time you’ve opened it since I sent it.  You’ve also forwarded the email to these 7 email addresses (read the list).  Remember when I told you we could track emails to a scary level…this is the proof”    

            If you’ve never dropped a bomb on someone like this before it’s a life changing moment.  I could almost hear him crapping his pants as he had a heart attack.  The look of shock on his face during the dead silence on the phone must have been epic.  He hurriedly blurted out, “um…um…we’ve already thought of most of this and want to pass…goodbye”

            Now I’ll be the first person to admit I could have handled that better, but lets face it the guy lied to me.  I approached the meeting and subsequent proposal with the best of intentions and full disclosure.  I would have been fine if he declined my proposal based on any number of reasons, but he lied to me for over a month.

            The lesson learned here is to use the tools at your disposal very carefully.  Had I used a little more restraint I may have salvaged this proposal and made some money on the deal.  At the same time I feel lucky to not have done business with someone who has that little integrity and overall lack of business ethics.  From that moment on I sent every proposal through that system and took it very seriously when I was presented an NDA.

            On a final note I ran into this guy years later.  I have grown a full beard and lost a bunch of weight since then.  He came up to me at a city run convention and was trying to get me to stop by his booth.  After he hit me with his canned speech on the amazing things going on at his casino I smiled and said.  “Sure…will you sign my NDA first?”  The blood drained from his face and his smile evaporated.  He happened to be shaking my hand at the time and his grip went limp.  “Justin?” he muttered.  I nodded and he walked away.

The high road is paved with double stuff oreos

            Years ago I was working for New York Life Insurance out of Omaha.  I had just finished training and was well on my way to becoming a full blown agent with the company.  The only thing I needed was my first client.  As is the case you start with your family and friends to ease into things, but I wanted a challenge.

            I came home from work one day to see a note stuck to my door.  Apparently I was being served and the county sheriffs office had stopped by.  I was shocked and confused on what was going on so I panicked and called the number.

            A woman answered the phone and told me in a fairly dull tone that she had court papers for me.  Eager to know what the hell was going on I opted to meet her and get the papers sooner than later.  I definitely didn’t want them served to me at my new job, where image was important, so I asked where I could meet her.  “You can meet me at the county lock up downtown…” 

            After a hard swallow and a few heart palpitations later I agreed to meet her down there.  Honestly, all I knew was it was in a bad part of town and I never wanted to be anywhere near that place, so I Googled it.

            I opted to leave work a little early and meet her in the afternoon.  For some reason I felt like that was safer for me and I could just head home afterward to regroup.  I walked into the secure waiting room in a suit and tie with a cashmere overcoat.  Several of the people waiting in the room looked at me like I was either a lawyer or a possibly a detective.

            Pam (name changed to protect identity) was called and I waited a few awkward minutes until she came up.  When she opened the door she was a heavy set African American woman in her 50’s.  She, rather un ceremoniously, handed me the papers in one quick motion. (I was being sued for a car accident from two years ago, it ultimately was just an ambulance chaser trying to get paid.)  “That’s a nice suit…what do you do?”  I told her I sold life insurance for New York Life.  “That’s the building in New York with the gold top right?”  Still in shock I nodded yes  “I need to get life insurance for me and my family…can you help me?”  And with that I had my first potential client.

            We met at a village in down in Bellevue.  I had to take my mentor at the time Steve (name also changed).  Unknown to me Pam was a lesbian and her life partner joined us.  Between the two of them they had 8 kids and 13 grandkids.  Steve did a very “quick and dirty” version of the script I had been given to help me sell.  You could tell he thought this wasn’t going anywhere and wanted to get it over with fast.

            After he breezed through it Pam looked at me and said “what do you think I should do?”  They had a huge need for coverage but didn’t make a ton of money.  Plus her weight and the fact she smoked meant her premium would be sky high.  I suggested the cheaper option of term insurance and she agreed.

            Steve was in the habit of quoting the top rating for clients.  “We’ll just send it in and see what we get”  and with that we wrote up a 500k policy.  I sat between the two women and literally walked line by line through the entire application answering questions as we went.  I could almost feel the relief as we wrapped it up.

            On the way back to the office Steve said “There’s no way in hell she’s getting that policy at what I quoted her!”  He knew her rating would be 4 to 5 times more than what we told her and still wrote it.  “I’ve also go a new nickname for you…double stuff!”  Apparently the sight of me, a heavy set white guy, sitting between two heavy set women reminded him of Oreo cookies.  It took everything I had to not punch him in the face at that moment.

            For the next month the case was in underwriting.  Pam got issued where I expected her to, 5 times what we quoted her.  We went back and gave her the policy and explained how it worked.  I did everything I could to give her an “out” and provided just enough information that she could figure out she wasn’t completely hosed with this deal, but Steve was persistent.

            Pam was excited that she had been able to get a policy and it meant the world to her knowing her kids would be taken care of.  She cried a little and held the hand of her partner.  When we left both of the women gave me, and only me, a hug thanking me for helping their family.  She told me to expect calls from all of their kids for policies in the near future.

            A week or two later I get a call from Pam.  She had looked at the illustration I told her about in the paperwork.  Steve had hoped she wouldn’t notice it so the policy would stick.  “Justin, in 5 years this is more than my mortgage…I can’t pay that.”  We discussed options and ultimately we had to cancel the policy.  Steve was pissed he lost his commissions on the deal and continued to call me “double stuff” for the rest of my time there.

            Pam left the department and gave me a call to roll over her pension several months later.  Steve went with me and tried to write it as a variable annuity so only he could get the case count as I was not licensed for variable annuities.  Her pension was a hair over $2000 and paid out $20 in commission.  Steve was calculating how much he made per mile, per minute, and so on.  Pam ended up cashing out her pension to pay her bills and Steve never got the $20.

            My first client in the life insurance industry was an overweight smoker who served me process papers in a jail.  Pam unintentionally taught me a huge lesson about myself and the power of doing the right thing.  Throughout the entire time we worked together she knew in her heart I had her best interests in mind.  She could see right through Steve and his ways, but knew I was the rookie who had to have him there. 

            Pam was going through a tough transition in life and needed someone to not only listen to her but to be kind to her.  I can only imagine the number of times this kind grandmother of 13 grandkids had been treated poorly serving process papers.  The number of times someone treated her like crap or with hostility.

            At the end of the day Pam needed someone to be kind to her and to have her interests in mind.  Steve faked his sincerity with her.  I remained genuine and from the moment I opened my mouth she trusted me implicitly.  Had I been a man of lower moral fiber I could have sold her a $20 million dollar policy…but she knew better.

            From that policy on I began to put quotes into my policy holders.  I printed out dozens of quotes that were inspirational or compassionate.  Every time I worked with a client I remembered that feeling of relief I felt in a Village Inn between those two women.   Every client I “signed up” from then on got a quote that I felt fit their life…a way to put into writing the relief I wanted them to have.

            I would never have gotten rich off of Pam and her family.  But that wasn’t the point of working with them.  Sometimes you’re in a position that you need to put the salesmanship aside and do the right thing for your customer.  Strangely enough that might be not selling them a damn thing and just teaching them about your business.

Horror Story: Why didn't you buy a bigger gun?

     Throughout my time selling liquor on the "North Side" of Omaha I learned a lot of things.  I learned what "getting wet" was (dipping cigarettes in formaldehyde) why they sell roses in glass tubes at gas stations (they're crack pipes) and any number of other interesting facts.  However, one of the backgrounds I had was a familiarity of firearms.  This proved to be useful a few times.
     I was visiting a new account on my territory that was across the street from a large housing project.  It wasn't the type of place you wanted to be around for too long if you weren't from the neighborhood.  When I walked into the corner shop and my eyes adjusted to the light I realized I was in a glass box about 10' by 10'.
    Behind the glass and steel was a little old lady named Lilly.  Behind her there was her entire inventory of wine & spirits, even beer.  If you wanted anything in this store you had to get it handed through a steel drawer.  It was fairly obvious I was in a place that had found a way to deal with excessive theft.
     "Hi, I'm looking for the owner, is that you?"  Lilly slowly reached her hand down under the counter and asked "maybe...who are you and what do you want?".  It dawned on me later that she had probably put her hand on the gun under the counter thinking I was a threat.  "I'm your new liquor rep, I thought I'd drop by and introduce myself."
     In the 30 years Lilly had owned this shop nobody had ever stopped in to see her in person.  She didn't even have a rep calling her on a regular basis to take her order.  Consequently she had only got the most basic level of discounts on her products and her prices were incredibly high.  After talking to her for thirty minutes she finally buzzed me in only after I gave her my drivers license and a business card, verifying who I was.
     Behind the counter it was a mess.  There was inventory everywhere and she didn't have much need to clean up a whole lot since she was the only one back there.  I took 4 steps and saw a .38 Special revolver laying on the counter in plain view.  I could also see the tips of the hollowpoint bullets in the cylinder so I assumed it was loaded.
     "Now why did you go with the 38 instead of a 45?  I keep going back and fourth between the two calibers and cant make up my mind."  Lilly smiled and offered me a seat and a drink.  In between customers for the next 2 hours Lilly told me about everyone she had ever shot at who was robbing her.  She owned the liquor store, the hair salon across the street, and 5 other businesses or rental homes in a 1 block area.  
     "I have to use hollow points because the last guy I hit walked into the ER a few hours later.  I got him 3 times but didn't kill him!"  Lilly went on to explain that at 85 anything bigger than a 38 would possibly break her wrist.  The entire time I sat there and politely listened to her stories. 
     After the shooting stories passed and she realized I wasn't there to rob her I began to tell her how I worked.  If she ordered through me I could get her discounts on her orders if she bought full cases.  She could then keep her prices the same or lower them and sell more. 
     A few months go by and Lilly's average order had doubled in size.  Admittedly she was calling me when ever she thought of it, including 11:30 at night, but she felt more comfortable buying from someone who she knew.
     Too many of the companies out there aren't focused on building a relationship with their customers.  Part of that relationship is providing a face to go with the phone number.  Lilly feared for my safety and insisted I never step foot in her store again.  I reminded her that I was insured and if someone wanted to rob me they'd be stealing my bosses booze or my beat up car with more problems than it was worth!  Still, I made it a point to stop in and say "hello" or talk guns once a quarter.  I didn't get rich selling to Lilly but my products started to sell better at the local bars.