Ruinous Rumors
After the mandatory lifeboat drill, which was half serious (the crew) and half a joke and party time (the passengers), Jay and Laura went back to their cabin. It was cozy, but at least it had a small balcony to step out on and raise a toast to the poor souls who were not fortunate enough to be sailing off to sun and fun. Laura told Jay to shower first and then get out of there so she could get ready in peace and quiet. He dutifully obeyed.
Eduardo Carlos, XL’s sales rep for the south Florida territory, had told Jay at the drill he wanted to talk with him. A dozen years ago, Jay and Eduardo had experienced the company’s new employee orientation program together. They often bounced ideas off one another and considered themselves the two best players in the company at deciphering any new policy or finding the easy money in the annual changes in the compensation plan.
Jay put on his new pink and green flamingo and palm tree shirt he had brought along to a mixture of complaints and laughter from Laura, gave her a quick kiss, and headed off to find his friend.
Jay met Eduardo at the elevator midship on the Lido deck. They found a fairly quiet table to sit down at for their chat. “Jay, you are really doing one heck of a job keeping on a happy face given what’s happening,” Eduardo said.
“What are you talking about?” Jay asked. “We just wrapped up a fine year in a tough market, we are on a fantastic cruise ship, and I don’t want to assume too much, but my Salesperson of the Year acceptance speech has a couple of really good one-liners in it. All better than that lead sled dog stuff Robert made us suffer through last year. Want to hear ’em?”
Eduardo looked shocked. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?” was all Jay could say. He was wondering if someone had been fired or, worse yet, someone in the company might be seriously ill.
“I really hope you get a chance to use that speech next year. The rumor mill has Cathy Simmons getting the big prize at the awards banquet tonight,” Eduardo cautiously told his friend.
“Cathy Simmons?” Jay said her name like he was talking about a plague. He was a good 8 percent ahead of her the last time he looked at XL’s sales results. “This simply can’t be true. I never even considered her serious competition.” His voice trailed off as he spoke.
Eduardo went on, “There is no doubt that this is felony theft, my friend. You had one heck of a year. Word is that it was a real bloodbath at the executive committee meeting. Everyone thought you had it locked up, and then Bob Blankenship came in and turned everything upside down. I guess you can do that when you’re the president of the company.” The criteria for Salesperson of the Year award had always been a little vague, but tradition had it that the individual with the highest percentage above sales quota got the golden statue. Eduardo continued, “Blankenship comes in and says that given the pressure on profitability, gross margin had to be the primary criterion this year. After two more hours of aggressive politicking from all sides, Cathy came out on top.”
Jay thought back to the year-end spreadsheet he had studied a few weeks ago and seemed to recall her being about 5 percent ahead of him in the contribution to company profit column. He did not think much about this at the time. He always thought Monte Beal, the New York rep, was his only serious competition. “Eduardo, how certain are you about this?”
“Man, do you think I’d be telling you this if it was not a done deal?” Eduardo seemed to have his sources pretty much everywhere, and the historical accuracy of his information only added to Jay’s growing feeling of both panic and anger. “Jay, I hate to be the delivery man for bad news, but while we are putting it all on the table, you might as well know she likely will also be announced as the new regional sales manager for the Midwest. Apparently she went to some negotiation skills workshop about a year ago. An ex-college prof, a Dr. Pat Something, ran it. Get this: he is on this cruise and for the next couple of days will be conducting his workshop on board for all of us unfortunate souls. Can you believe it? My Luciana and your Laura get to hit the shore excursions with the spouse program, and we end up being cooped up in some dark meeting room with this egghead.” Jay, still in shock, could only grimace and nod in agreement.
Jay slowly replied, “Can you believe this guy has actually come up with some disease we all apparently have? Something called—get this—negotiaphobia. Cathy Simmons really has Blankenship in her corner, doesn’t she?”
Eduardo was clearly in agreement. “Hey, Jay, I hate hitting you with this all at once. I really assumed you knew. My friend, don’t lose sight of the year you had. It was top-shelf, and things are going to work out for you. We are both survivors. Were that not the case, neither of us would have lasted a dozen years in this crazy business. You going to be okay?”
Jay assured him that he was fine, or at least he would be. With that, Eduardo said he had to check on one of Luciana’s missing bags and then head back to their cabin to pick her up. “We’ll look for you and Laura at the dinner. Maybe we can grab a table if they don’t have assigned seating.” With that, he was gone, and so was Jay’s upbeat mood—every last ounce of it.