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“Whether it did or didn't, by the time we reached the warehouse I had a pretty good idea of what was going on at Great American Meat and Seafood: There were no territories, no brochures, no existing customers to service, no salary of any kind; it was straight commission. ‘We're cold-calling machines,’ he chirped, as we pulled into the warehouse. ‘That's why we make so much money.’
“My job interview took place inside a ramshackle office at the front of the warehouse. It lasted eight and a half seconds, at which point I was hired. I hadn't heard of the mirror test back then, so I just assumed that I'd gotten the job because I was a friend of Elliot's. I didn't know they'd hire anyone with a pulse.” I shrugged i
“And, to support his claim, each box had an inflated price marked on it. As he was selling, he would point to the prices and say, ‘I'll take fifteen dollars off thisbox, and fifteen dollars off thatbox…’ and then he'd smile at his customer and add, ‘Hey, I'd rather sell everything at cost than let the food thaw out, right?’”
“He was outright lyingto his customers!” snapped the Witch.
I smiled inwardly. “Yes, Michele, he was outright lying to his customers. And I'll tell you that it definitely shocked me at first. It seemed totally sleazy, what he was doing. Totally slimy. But, of course, the Penguin had a rationalization for it. In fact, he had rationalizations for everything.
“We were somewhere on the South Shore of Long Island when I broached the subject with him. Elliot was behind the wheel, searching for ‘virgin territory,’ which was Penguinspeak for a neighborhood where no one had heard the pitch before. It was early afternoon, and I'd seen him do his spiel about half a dozen times so far, although he hadn't sold a box yet. I said to him, ‘I can't believe what a scam this is, Elliot. Are you sure this is even legal?’
“Elliot looked at me as if I'd just fallen off a turnip truck and said, ‘Look who's talking, you fucking hypocrite! Aren't you the guy who used to pinch the bottom of the ices cup to get extra scoops out of the barrel?’ And he expelled a gust of air. ‘This is no different, pal. Besides, people can't even get this food in the supermarket.’
“I shook my head and said, ‘Yeah, yeah, I understand that the food is great and everything, and I'm really happy about that, but it doesn't change the fact that you're a lying sack of shit!’ I paused for a moment, then added, ‘And as far as my pinching the bottom of the ices cup, I only did it because the cups were stacked upside down. So when I picked one up, it got pinched automatically.’
“ ‘Yeah, sure,’ chirped the Penguin. ‘It was all an accident. You could've stacked the cups right side up. No?’ He rolled his eyes at me. ‘Anyway, what I'm doing with the prices goes on everywhere. Seriously. Just walk into any jewelry store or electronics store and check it out yourself. Everyonedoes this shit.’”
I paused, letting Elliot's words hang in the air. Then I said, “There's no denying that he had a point. You see it in jewelry stores all the time: They inflate their price tags and then mark things down right in front of you so you think you're getting a good deal.” I paused again, then: “And all this business about an overorder isn't much different than all those stores you see advertising ‘ going-out-of-business sales.’ Most of them have been advertising the same going-out-of-business sale for the last ten years, and in ten more years they'll stillbe going out of business!”
I took a deep breath and continued: “Anyway, we spent most of the first day working middle-class neighborhoods, knocking on people's doors and ringing their bells. And the rejection was absolutely staggering. Doors were being slammed in our faces left and right, with people telling us to basically drop dead. By two o'clock, Elliot was getting negative. He started whining to me, ‘Nobody wants the food today.’” I shook my head and let out a few chuckles. “It was sad to see. I mean, the poor bastard was on the verge of tears! At the beach, everyone loved us; we were almost like celebrities there. But here we were being treated like lepers.
“Still, the Penguin somehow managed to unload twelve boxes that day, and the next day he unloaded sixteen.” I nodded slowly, still impressed at his persistence. “One thing I can tell you about the Penguin is that he's a relentless bastard. He kept waddling from door to door, knocking and knocking until his knuckles were bleeding, even as he snuffled back the tears. But he was averaging three hundred dollars a day in commission, so it was worth a few tears. I mean, that was a lot of money back then, especially to a kid who'd just dropped out of dental school. So, fuck it, I thought. In spite of knowing it was a little bit of a hustle, I figured I'd give it a whirl.”
I paused and looked at OCD. “You wa
OCD smiled and shook his head a few times. “I could only imagine.”
“Actually,” I said, “you probably couldn't, because no one at the Great American could. You see, since price seemed to be everyone's biggest objection, I figured, why not try selling to rich people? Or, better yet, to rich people I knew.The problem was that I didn't really know any rich people—except for the father of my girlfriend from college, David Russell. But that was a sticky situation, because he and his wife had just gotten separated and I didn't know where he was living. She, I knew, was still living in the mansion up in Westchester, but I couldn't just go knocking on her door. She never really liked me, although I can't imagine why.” I looked at the Witch and said, “What's not to like, Michele, right?”
The Witch didn't speak or smile; she simply raised her thin left eyebrow high on her forehead, as if to say, “Are you fucking kidding me?” I shrugged and said, “Well, I guess she had her reasons. But, that aside, I did the next best thing and went to her next-door neighbor.” I nodded a single time, implying the righteousness of my decision. “Yes,” I said proudly, “I pulled my Toyota pickup truck right up to her neighbor's enormous front door and hopped out and started knocking. I remember it like it was yesterday. The house was an enormous white colonial with forest-green shutters; and the front door was bigger than the one that led into the Emerald City. It was painted barn red and had a thousand coats of lacquer on it. And I kept rapping on it until, finally, after a minute, a kind-looking sixtyish woman, with gray hair and gra
“I offered her a sad smile and said, ‘Maybe you can, ma'am. My name is Jordan, and I deliver meat and seafood to some of your neighbors in the area. I have an overorder on my truck today, and I can't get back to the freezer. I'm willing to sell you everything at cost.’ I flashed her my big blue puppy-dog eyes and added, ‘Is there any way you can help me out, ma'am?’
“She stared at me for a few seconds, and then, in a tone ripe with skepticism, she said, ‘Which neighbors do you deliver to?’ Without missing a beat I answered, ‘To the Russells next door.’ Suddenly it occurred to me that she might actually call over there, so I quickly added, ‘Actually, it was to Mr. Russell—to David, as he liked to be called,’ and then I compressed my lips and nodded sadly. ‘But, you know, with all that's going on over there with the divorce, they haven't been buying much meat lately.’
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