Blackhumouristpress's Blog

April 20, 2010

Terry the IT Guy or The Fucking You Got

Filed under: Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 4:32 pm
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William Tompkins had built a small but strong company selling commercial appliances such as washers, dryers, air conditioning units and so on to various businesses in the Detroit area.  William had a small office with six employees that sat on phones and computer screens all day. 

            William happened one night to be watching a special on television about all the lost hours in the American work place due to lack of monitoring by many companies.  The statistics were alarming and astounding to William.  William got to thinking one night while his wife lay beside him in bed asleep with a black mask covering her eyes, vitamin E slathered on her face and netting on top of her head to keep her hair from looking like Medusa in the morning, how he could spy on his work force and improve production.

            The next day, William began to creep about the office looking for signs of slacking off.  The workers all developed a sixth sense around William and could almost feel his presence before he entered a room.  William was tall and thin with gray hair that was combed back.  He always wore a white shirt with a tie and had a healthy tan at all times even when the outdoor temperature was arctic and the sun only seemed to hang around for an hour at a time.  William decided that hiring a computer wizard or an IT guy would go miles to keep everyone on their toes when he was away or not directly looking over everyone’s shoulders.  William interviewed a dozen or more young men and settled on a young man named Terry.

            Terry still had acne and a boyish look that would have allowed him to walk the halls of junior high schools without detection.  He stood at five feet and six inches and was a hair below 140 lbs.  His dark hair and horned rimmed glasses went well with his smirk.  Terry answered all the questions tossed at him from William with confidence.  Terry then posed a few questions himself.

            “You’re concerned that people here are not working up to their potential, am I correct?”  Asked Terry.

            “You haven’t caught anyone wasting time but suspect it’s going on the moment you turn your head.  Am I right on that?”  Asked Terry.

            William liked Terry’s confidence to the point of being brash.  It was a sign that Terry would go places and if the young fellow was just stopping by on his way to something bigger and better, William wanted to squeeze whatever was possible from Terry.

            Terry was given a desk in an office in the warehouse and all the workers wondered who the new employee was that had an office outside of the actual office space.  Terry ate alone and worked alone and nobody talked to him or attempted to introduce themselves to him.  After a number of weeks, Terry accumulated enough dirt on all the employees to get them all fired.  Rather than firing everyone and having to pay unemployment, William used the embarrassing information that he compiled to get better production and causation for not paying bonuses or giving raises.  William was almost giddy as he called each employee into his office.  First up was Tanya, a thirty two year old woman who married at a young age and had been divorced for three years.  Her five year daughter lived alone with her in a near by apartment.  Tanya’s job was to take orders by computer and by phone.

            “Well Tanya…  I’ve asked everyone here to rate their performance and you gave yourself almost a perfect grade.  Based on this, you should be getting a great bonus and a hefty raise.  Some time ago, I decided to tap into what goes on around the office when I’m not directly watching all of you and well I was shocked quite frankly.  Take yourself for example.  Out of the forty hours a week that you put in with an hour off each day for lunch and the twice an hour toilet breaks, personal phone calls, Facebook updates, and E Harmony correspondences, not to mention the oodles of poor taste jokes that get forwarded on to your plethora of friends that you email and text all day long…  When you factor in all of those things, I get eight minutes an hour worth of work from you on average.  I have exact times on all sites and when you are actually taking orders by phone or by computer…  Eight minutes an hour!  Fifty two minutes per hour are spent doing personal things on my dime.  What I’d like from you is to pay me back for the money I have given you for working over the past year that you have no right to but that wouldn’t be possible.  I know you’re over extended on credit cards and are behind on rent and car payments so paying me what you actually owe me for doing any number of personal things other than work during working hours, is not possible.”

            Tanya was horrified by the verbal undressing she was receiving by her boss and the owner of the company.  She apologized profusely and promised that she would make every effort to minimize any personal business during work hours.  One after another, William let each employee know what he knew of what work was actually being done or what comments he knew of that were being made about him on the work computers.  Every woman left weeping and every man left with his head down, unable to make eye contact with William.  William saved his best for last.

            Gary or Garibaldi as he was called by his mother had been a car salesman and was hired by William to be a salesman for the appliances that they carried.  Gary would drive around visiting hospitals, schools, and health clubs and so on, trying to get their appliances leased and serviced by the company.  Gary was quite good at what he did and was very arrogant and outspoken.  Gary was fit with jet black hair and wore nice suits and always smelled like the insert advertisements in GQ.  Gary was rarely in the office and when he was, he flirted with all the ladies and checked his stocks.  Gary was the last to be given the shocker from William.

            “Gary, Gary, Gary…  My man on the street… My man about town…  I can’t deny that you’re good at what you do and you do just enough to make what you need and then you masterfully find the time to be a paid athlete on my time as well as a sex machine.  The company phone that you have been issued that I pay for has GPS on it.  From the minute you wake up until you go to bed, I can tell where you are and what you’re doing.  You wanna know the average day?  Wake up and hit the gym for a good two hours, sit in a café for an hour on average, make a few legitimate calls as well as several calls to several different women you’re seeing.  Our company is in Dearborn and you certainly make a lot of visits to certain residential addresses in Southfield, Grosse Pointe, Royal Oak, Farmington Hills, Rochester, Novi and Ann Arbor.  You must be doing a bang up job selling my appliances to the stay at home moms who need all sorts of appliances to fight off the doldrums of the hum drum boredom of slaving away in upper middle class suburbia.  You must be masterful as a service man too.  I’m paying for a company car, a company phone and gasoline while you golf, lift weights, play basketball, fuck, fuck and then fuck some more.  January 7th is a day that will live in infamy…  You were tracked at five different homes in the span of eight hours.  Not one call you made that day went to any of our accounts.  What’s your secret, man?  Is it that Extenze that I see on television or Viagra or are you just one of those guys that kept his libido intact from the days when we boys used to think about sex every ten seconds?  I have to tell you that if I fucked that much, I’d have to take up stamp collecting or something that I could do alone at nights…  So here’s the deal…  I better see more actual on site visits to our accounts and our potential accounts to balance the service calls you regularly make to homes of house wives.  I better see more calls to our accounts and potential accounts or you can go back to selling fucking Chryslers to out of work Detroit workers.  You want a higher percentage of all the accounts?  Get me more fucking accounts…  The fucking I’m getting is not worth the fucking I got… You get me, Prince Charming?  Now get the fuck out of my office and try to work for a change.”

            William took Terry out for dinner and some drinks.  Terry could have had anything on the menu such as lobster, crab or filet mignon.  Instead he ordered meatloaf and had a Sprite.  William boastfully told Terry about all the things he said to all the employees and how they reacted.  Terry listened attentively and then calmly told William how things were going to be.

            “Well Billy, I’ve decided that we’re going to be partners.  Think of me as your agent.  A good agent gets twenty percent of all proceeds and that’s all I’m asking from here on out.  You cut me twenty percent on all profits and everyone lives happily ever after…” said Terry, while sipping his soft drink.

            “You’re absolutely fucked, kid…  You think I’m cutting you in at twenty percent?  You’re fucking cracked.  Who the fuck do you think you are trying to shake me down?”

            Terry took out pictures that he printed from Google Earth of William’s two other properties in Colorado and San Diego where he had two mistresses living in is condominiums.  Terry then showed pictures of William with both women as his straw made an annoying sound trying to get the last little drops of liquid from the glass.  William thought about his stature in his church and his relationship with his wife and the ties he had to his wife’s father who funded his start in the business.  William wolfed down the rest of his Scotch and soda and then swirled the ice in a clock wise motion as he glared at the puny young man.

            “Fine… Twenty percent then…  You’ve really done a number on me, kid.” Said William.

            Terry extended his hand to shake on the deal.  Of course it would all be finalized in writing and Terry would have an accountant study the books.  Terry stood as he was getting ready to leave.  He thought about the conversation William had Gary and decided to ask William playfully a question before parting.

            “So Billy…  Is the fucking you’re getting worth the fucking you got?”

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