In the ever widening technical gap between youth and curmudgeon-dom, there was a small but significant victory for those struggling with continual flashing 12:00’s. Working for a high-tech company forever on the leading edge presents an ongoing challenge for this observer of things. For those of you not aware of my current employment dilemma, I’ve submitted a plan to increase our market share among less populated cities utilizing a number of federal grant programs. The younger sales force, several of which were hired by me some 13-15 years ago, has complained about my plan, crying these smaller departments are not worthy of their valuable time. Considering their collective dismal year in 2011 they have little to stand on. It’s time to do something different!
Our Product Manager and I were sent to what would be a typical location in my grand scheme to organize and execute a sales presentation to three county and five city (7,000 largest population of five) police departments. We were to assess and report back. This morning when I arrived for work, there were two email messages from this abbreviated list asking for formal quotes totaling $9,895.00!! I was pleased to say the least!
Our Representative who only lives two hours away, declined to show up. I suspect it was his way of thumbing his nose at my plan but ultimately it did not serve him well. Not only did the new accounts become house accounts with zero commissions but was put on probation for his f-ing job…long overdue if you ask me! I’VE BECOME THE MESSINGER OF DEATH!!
Having the mettle and wherewithal to conciliate small town Georgia law enforcement brought about an ebullience I’ve not felt for some time. With a sense of purpose we made our way to Augusta National Golf Course; home of “The Masters” one of the major tournaments played by professional golfers. The place is a conservative institution where decorum is paramount; it is a place where traditions and the integrity of the game are jealously guarded. In short one the last bastions of bigotry that segregates financially; covering their collective asses.
As we approached the course it became clear this hallowed ground developed by the legendary Bobby Jones is in fact a barbed wired compound with armed guards at every entry point. It’s like having a beautiful couch but covered in plastic. You can see the beauty but can’t feel and inhale the luxury. We were forced to park in one of several overflow lots and cross a busy street. Once at the “Member Entrance” the large Black man guarding the entry looked at his watch, and without looking up told me I had three minutes to take my ‘photo op.’ This explains the above photo.
Knowing the Augusta National Golf Club to be what it is DID NOT dampen my victory lap at the office though, and strutted around telling my fellow workers and execs “The old man still has it!” I’ll have to tone it down today as I suspect it’s become a bit over the top. Even though the immediate order was probably a fluke occurrence, I’m sticking to my story!