Robert E. Brown. Robert Brown Number 1 Success

Part II. The greatest prize

The Sales division was a surreal environment. While it had all the trappings a stale corporate office, they also had a mandate to keep the staff motivated and in a state of "high energy." There were balloons everywhere. Managers with bull horns and silly hats wandered through the building screaming out encouragement. Whistles and noise makers were constantly going off around the building as people made sales. A never ending stream of announcements of incentives were being called out. The team that has the best customer revenue stats for the week gets a free lunch at the steak house down the street. The team who gets the most sales for the day gets to dress down on Friday. Whoever gets the next sale wins a diskman. Monday is Hawaiian shirt day.

There was always cake.

After lunch, they held a building wide hour long meeting to announce who had the biggest accounts, the most accounts and what teams were on top. It was like a mix between a game show and an award ceremony. Hundreds of dollars in cash and prizes as well as plaques and trophies were handed out each day. But the enthusiasm was managerial policy. On close examination, the managers and team leaders were the only ones blowing the whistles, the only ones running around with balloons. The tie clad grunts were always expressionless and grim in the mist of confetti and free clock radios being thrown at them.

After my "graduation" June led me up to the cluster of cubicles that she insisted would be my new home and family. "Team, this is Robert Brown. He is number 1 who will be insuring Team Success will stay on top. Welcome him to his new family." A few disinterested faces looked up. There was a couple of slow sarcastic claps and someone weakly blew a whistle. I waved with a big grin on my face. Not because I was happy to be a part of the team, but because towards the end of training I had gotten the low down on Team Success, June, and why Robert was number 1.

June was a company zealot. She was from a super wealthy Taiwanese family and had disavowed a life of luxury and opulence to come to America and prove here ambition and drive as a self made woman. She was the top sales woman for several years who insisted that she be assigned to the top team when she received her promotion. She had only recently taken over and renamed Steven's Slaughter House as Team Success. Steven's Slaughter House, named after the previous manager Steven Glendale was in trouble. Glendale had been fired after it had come to light that numbers were being fudged and many of the sales were fraudulent. Team success was still on top, but just barley. June was undaunted by the soiled rep of Team Success and saw a challenge to prove herself a winner yet again. Her first step, find a ringer. She was under the impression that I was that star.

Now I'm not sure if I'm really that good, or if the rest of the people employed by the Sprint Corporation are that bad. I know what my past IQ test scores have been and they're very high. I don't know what I scored that first day, but I do know that apparently I had scored higher than any employee in the entire corporation. According to their records, the Albuquerque Business Accounts Division found themselves in the possession of the smartest man in company history. Whether it was a million to one testing fluke, a grading error or I'm really a super genius, it didn't really matter. June associated that test score to great salesmanship. I was her greatest prize. Robert Brown Number 1.

I sat down at my desk and pulled out a pen. I wrote on a piece of paper, PHILADELPHIA 53 and put a tick mark underneath. Only 52 tick marks to go.

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Robert E. Brown. Robert Brown Number 1 Success

Part I. Surreal world

My last job in New Mexico was my first real foray into "the real world" and how it did terrify me. I had all but finished school and knew the exact day set for the move. Christianne was bouncing back and forth between Philly and Albuquerque making all of the arrangements, doing the packing. My only chore was to sludge to a day job for three months and save us some money. There is something so freeing about knowing exactly when you are going to get out.

I got hired as a small business accounts rep for Sprint. The job was part good old fashioned telemarketing, part maintaining and servicing the accounts already acquired. When I applied they gave us a full battery of IQ tests. I thought it a little odd for a corporation to do this but I've taken plenty before and I buzzed through them. Did they need written proof to see if someone was a fucktard?

I was called back in and offered the position and the HR rep explained job. This was at the time right before cell phones really took over. Sprint PCS had a building there too, but didn't even have service in New Mexico yet. The long distance wars were in full effect and the sprawling office of grey cubicles were laid out in clusters of sales teams. While I dreaded the idea of working there, they had a huge system of incentives and bonuses. I was getting a shit load of money and they didn't even expect me to make a sale for the first month. A lot of the money was up front just for even starting. When I walked out of the office, a tiny chinese lady was waiting for me. "My name is June" she said "I am team manager and you Robert Brown, are going to work on my team because you are number 1."
"Uh, Okay."
She showed me to the grey cubical cluster like it was a wonder to behold. "We are Team Success" June announced waving her hand over my future desk like a game show girl displaying a prize. "Team Success is number 1 sales team in all of Sprint. We would be honored if you chose us, Robert Number 1."
"Uh, sure. I guess." (what the fuck?)
A frazzled balding suit came running up to us. ''Damn it, I guess June got to you first" he said to me.
I just stared at him. June Grinned.
"Well either way, it's good to have you on board" he said shaking my hand.
"This was Tim" June said after he left. "His team number 3 sales team. That's no good for you."

My training class lasted three weeks. Three weeks of intensive training. The answer was yes, they needed written proof that someone was a fucktard. "This is a mouse. We use it to move the cursor around the screen like so..." the instructor demonstrated as I quietly banged my head on the table.

June would periodically check in on me to make sure the class was going well, that I didn't have any issues or concerns and generally to make sure I was happy and comfortable.
"The team is eager to have you join us Robert number 1" she would beam. "Soon you will be with your new family."
I had no idea what was going on. There were 30 people in my training class. None of them had their managers dooting on them or even checking on them for that matter. I was nervous and uncomfortable with the attention, convinced there had been some error they would discover or my star status was due to some mistaken identity.

One day June interrupted the class to bring me a slice of cake.
"What makes you so special?" the bitter middle aged woman next to me quipped under her breath.
"I have a huge cock." I said out loud and took another bite.

It was as good an explanation as any other.


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Robert E. Brown. Trash Storm

If you haven't been to Philly, you might not know that it is one of the dirtiest cities in the United States. I reside in South Philly where the trash collectors give a shit even less than the residents and there is no street cleaning service. There are third world cities that have less garbage on the streets. Now wading through piles of trash, I mean walking on the sidewalk can be pretty sick, but today was a new experience.

You see today we had mad crazy March winds. My wife and I were out running errands on foot and the winds were shoving so hard one had a difficult time standing upright. But there was that extra element that made life truly grand. The South Philly street waste. Suddenly God had turned into an evil jedi with a mean sense of humor. Not only did one have to fight the frigid winds, but also had to dodge the constant onslaught of McDonalds wrappers, dirty paper plates and empty cigarette packs. I was actually hit in the head by a flying plastic gallon milk container. It was as if some distant land fill had risen up and rioted through the streets of Philadelphia.

But then I saw something I will never forget. We walked around a corner and straight into a garbage whirlwind. Remember that kid in American beauty? He saw God in that spinning plastic grocery bag. Well I wonder if he would have felt the same if it was six bags,
and five dirty napkins,
and a cheese steak wrapper,
and two paper cups,
and an empty toilet paper roll
and a chocolate bar wrapper
and a used tampon dispenser
and
and
and
and...



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