Friday wine and pizza gets me spinning yarns to Warrior Woman, and she, in her own enlightened state, enthuses “That is a good story for your blog!” Here’s one.
Back in the day of my irresponsible hawtiliciousness, I received a call from Sleazy Collection Agency, wanting me to pay a bill. When they discovered that I was between jobs, because, seriously, people, all that partying interfered with my work life, they offered me a position in their sales department.
The first thing they did was rip up my delinquent account file.
Yes. A stellar company. I also overheard collection agents offering to do the same for lobster fishermen, in exchange for a good scoff of crustaceans.
I knew I was knee-deep in the sleaze, but I got to travel and take clients out to lunch and that made it more like partying and less like work.
They worked on a diary system, so that I had to diarize each account I contacted, list my expenses, and note when the account would be turned over to collection. I made bonuses in addition to salary, and they made bonuses based on mine.
I had some great accounts lined up, and discovered that the big, big, account was headed by a man I went to junior high school with. I had a huge crush on him at the time, and thought it would be nice to tell him that.
Over lunch, I persuaded him to turn over a quarter of a million dollars of outstanding accounts to me and my company.
That’s a nice bonus no matter how you cut it.
The sleazy manager and his slimy assistant were drooling over that account and couldn’t see me collecting the bonus for it, and they came up with the brilliant idea to fire me and collect my bonus in additon to their own.
It was my birthday.
I called up my former classmate, and the larger accounts that were pending, and explained what Sleazy Collection Agency managers were up to.
I asked them if they cared to do business with people who would steal from their employees. Or make them ex-employees so they could steal from them.
Everyone I called withdrew their pending accounts.
Sleazy Collection Agency? Don’t mess with witchypoo.
Especially on her birthday.
Bet you wish you hadn’t destroyed my delinquent account file, huh?
