Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Dueling Sales Reps

Ok, so I've got a p.o.s. copier in the office. Had it for several years and it has always been a problem. The guy that sold it to us said it was more than suitable for our needs, based on our annual printing figures. Well, what shit fer brains didn't take into consideration is that the bulk of our printing is done over 2 and a half months in the spring and again in the fall. So, after the first heavy load, the printer was fucked. It has spent countless hours under the care of their inept technicians ever since. So, after dealing with this crap for a couple of years, I decided it was time to get a new one. I called the fat fuck that sold it to us and told him it was a lemon and I wanted it out of my office and a newer, better machines should be in its place. He came to see me, checked the service call records and was astounded and upset that we didn't contact him sooner. He says he'd have ensured that the machine would run perfectly from the first call. He sends his "specialist" over. Tells me this guy is the nuts and that all the problems will be resolved. In the meantime, he's going to work up numbers for a replacement.

So his "specialist" comes, takes the machine apart, spends two days on it, shutting down our productivity in the process. He finishes his job on a thursday. Friday morning, first print job since the two day overhaul and the paper jams in the same fucking places. The copies are still coming out slightly askew and somewhat faded. I call the guy again and tell him to not waste my time with a quote as I can't see how it would be in my best interest to get another machine from Toshiba or deal with their crappy service department any longer.

He tells me he will hook me up with a sweet deal. So I humor him. He comes in, fat fuck that he is, nasty moustache and all, and goes into his sales pitch. What's he pushing? The new version of the old lemon. I ask him why I would want the same machine when it the old version was incapable of handling my printing load and he says "oh, they've fixed all the bugs."

So, my machine is, admittedly, a buggy piece of shit.

I thank him, tell him I'll get back to him and as he leaves I throw his shit in the garbage.

Then I remember that young lady who tried to sell me some equipment about two years ago. She came in, cold, to see if there was anything she could do for me and has, since then, been emailing me once a quarter, to see if I need anything.

What the fuck was her name? When did she email me? Fuck!

Anna? Anita? Enya? No, wait, Anya? Ania?

Ania!! that's it. So I go scrolling thru my emails in search of her last transmission and there it is in July. So I shoot her an email, explain the problem, detail the current equipment and ask her to come in armed with relacement suggestions.

She gets back to me in ten minutes. She can't meet me for two days. No worries, I tell her and we set up a date.

So, Ania comes in to see me. She's fucking hot. I don't remember her being anywhere near this cute. Short skirt, showing off some very nice legs and the cleavage on display is more than ample. She knows how to sell sex, that's a plus.

She runs thru the equipment she's selling and she's explaining all the features, the capacity the tits tits tits tits legs tits tits tits.

That's right, I'm mesmerized by her flashing of flesh. My conference room has a glass table and I can see her legs thru the glass and she's leaning over the table to show me her tits, I mean her data sheeets and I am entranced.

We finish the meeting with me telling her to get me cost information. We email back and forth for three days after the meeting so I can get a better explanation of the numbers and now I'm about ready to call her back for one more meeting where we fight over the details and out of the blue Frank the Fat Fuck calls me, looking to set up an appointment.

So now I have two clowns vying for my attention. Frank is coming in this morning. Ania needs to schedule another appointment. I'm hoping to get her in here right after he leaves because I am going to need her womanly curves to offset the horrific image of Frank leaning over the table, exposing his manteet cleavage.

I'm planning on making Fat Frank jump thru hoops and I will gladly pay more to not have to deal with his company any more but I know nothing about Ania's firm, other than they have better sales reps. I wonder, if the machine is a lemon, will they send her over to make me happy?

1 comment:

Laura said...

Sounds like the Ford Taurus I used to have. 46 trips to the dealer in 6 years..took me awhile to learn. Never bought another Ford.