Читать книгу 96 Rocks - Ron Ph.D Hummer - Страница 5

Herman Pearson stepped out of his red Cadillac, looked up at the sign on the roof of the red brick building that said WKXR, 96 Rocks, in blue and white, grinned. He rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers, yawned, then closed the door.

I’m the reason this station is still in business, Herman thought to himself. If it wasn’t for me, all these people would be out of jobs. Not like they can work in another radio station. Except for Tim Harrelson of course.

His mind went back to the call from Bruce Thompson yesterday. He told him that Tim was sexually harassing Diane Crawford. Even want as far as kissing. It was an unwanted kiss.

Pearson shook his head, took a deep breath. Why on earth is she making a big deal of this? She’s leaving the station in two weeks. Not like she doesn’t ask for it for the way she looks all the time. Be nice if she wore a short skirt more than once every two weeks but what can you do. She’s a beautiful woman with large breasts and nice legs when you saw them.

He turned and had a quick glimpse of Joan Mueller on line the coffee cart. She had a small oval face, brown hair that fell over her ears, and a pair of wide hazel eyes that were covered by brown rimmed glasses. She was taller than Herman, about 5-6, wearing a white blouse and red dress that was loose, her stomach protruding over her belt. Probably getting a donut or a muffin or a bagel or all three, Herman thought, shaking his head.

He walked over to her; she turned and looked at him. He nodded his head and she walked over to him.

“Any reason you’re on line?” Herman asked.

“Just getting some coffee.”

“We have a coffee maker inside,” Herman answered. “If you’re getting a donut and a bagel, just say so.”

“I don’t like the coffee inside. That was all I was getting.”

“If they have a special flavor, you can buy it in the store and save some money since coffee is over a $1.00.”

“It’s not 9:00 yet Mr. Pearson.”

“Yes, that’s fine. That was one of the reasons that I let Mary go. She was out here and in the office on some days after 9:00. If you were at your desk, you could be turning on your computer, checking any messages from last night and any e-mails in case anything came in that was important. Instead, you’re out here.”

Joan clicked her teeth together, taking a deep breath.

“Think of it this way. We’re the cowboys in the fort and we want to make sure the Indians aren’t attacking us. You should be here at 8:30 checking your e-mail, then go outside to get your coffee and whatever else you’re having if there wasn’t anything that was important.”

“Fine. I’ll go in now.”

She walked past Herman, holding the door open for him, then walked quickly up the stairs to her desk. “When you get to your desk, please let Tim know I’m here and I need to see him. I know that he’s at his desk at 8:00.”

“Yes, sir.”

Can’t believe she’s lasted this long, Herman mused.

He walked up the stairs, seeing his office as he reached the top. Joan was at her desk, turning the computer on. She picked up her phone, punched in 4 numbers, then said “Tim,” Mr. Pearson needs to see you.” She shook her head. “He’s on his way up.”

“Let me know if there is anything important.”

“I will.”

Herman shut the door, smiled as he sat down in his leather swivel chair. He heard a knock at his door and said “come in.”

The door opened and Tim walked in, shutting the door behind him. “Hey Herman.”

Herman gazed at Tim, his 5-9 thin frame, his sandy hair long, parted low to the left, brushed across his skull and over his ears. His pug nose was small and his mustache was large and bushy.

“Have you lost your mind,” he said, shaking his head.

Tim took a deep breath, dropped onto a brown couch. “It’s not what you think.”

“Really. You didn’t kiss Diana Crawford and put your hand on her ass.”

“No, I just told her that when she goes to California, she should look hot and get some pictures of herself and she’ll be on drive time.”

“Tim, when are you going to stop lying to me?”

“I’m not lying.”

“Tim, I don’t care that you kissed Diane. I don’t even care that you grabbed her ass. Don’t you see that you’re falling into her trap?”

“Trap.”

“Yes. Trap.” He threw his hands in the air. “Don’t you think she would love the idea of crying sexual harassment and get some money from us before she goes to California. I mean, she doesn’t have another job.”

“I guess I wasn’t thinking about that.”

“Look, I’m a guy. I worked for someone who put out memos telling women to wear short skirts to the office because it’s inappropriate to wear pants and long dresses. Now you see casual attire all the time. When I was working in sales at a TV station, gorgeous women like Diane and Mary wore short skirts every day.”

“I know,” Tim replied, shaking his head.

“Those were the days,” Herman said, drumming his fingers on his desk. “Roberta had legs that never ended. And those breasts. Some of the guys deliberately bumped into her” - he paused, his smile grew large - “just to feel them. And that perfume.”

“She sounds really hot.”

“Oh yeah. What a woman. Now, you know that I love looking at beautiful women just like you do. You know that.”

“I know.”

“All right. So don’t lie to me anymore. Okay?”

“All right.”

“It’s a good thing no one saw you.” He clasped his hands together. “We’ve talked about this before. You have to resist this. She’s a beautiful woman. So was Mary.”

“I wish you didn’t fire her.”

“I had to. She was starting in about sexual harassment against you. We don’t need that kind of trouble here.”

“I know.”

“She didn’t make her quota that month. I was able to make her an example for the others so it worked out.”

“She was so hot.”

“I know. All the guys were looking at her.”

‘Except Austin. He just looked at her shoes.”

They both laughed at that.

Herman opened his desk drawer, grabbed his Penthouse magazine. “Bruce will be here in a few minutes. We’ll figure out what to do.”

“Okay.”

“Here.” He threw the magazine to Tim. He caught it, looked at the front cover.

“Is this the new issue?”

“Yes. Check out the centerfold.”

Tim opened to the center of the magazine, unfolded the picture. “Wow. I wouldn’t throw her out of bed.”

“And those legs. They’re so long, she could wrap them around the both of us.”

“They both laughed again, Tim slapping his knee.

There was a knock at the door and Tim slid the magazine under the couch.

“Come in,” Herman said.

Joan walked in with a cup of coffee, placed it on Herman’s desk.

“Is the list of the sales reports for all the stations ready yet?“

“I’m checking it over.”

“What time did you leave here yesterday?” his voice growing louder.

“5:30.”

“Did you check the list then?” Herman asked.

“Yes.”

“Then bring it in and stop wasting time checking it all the time,” he replied angrily.

“Fine,” I’ll print it out.”

“Just e-mail it to me.” He balled his fists together. “No sense in wasting any paper. I tell you this all the time. Don’t print so much.”

Joan bit her lip, ran her hand through her brown hair.

“I’ll e-mail it to you in a moment.”

“Fine.”

She turned and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

“How long has she been here?” Tim asked.

“About 9 months.”

“That’s longer than any other secretary you had.”

“Well, she got a chance to do voiceovers for commercials and I told her that if she wanted to do that, then she would have to sign a non-compete. So she did.”

“Why lock her into a contract like that especially when you could hire someone that is hotter and younger than her.”

“Don’t think I didn’t try,” Herman responded. “I had 3 ads out on different job sites and all I got was a bunch of dogs. So I hired Joan.”

“Guess you really needed someone. Cindy was really hot,” Tim said.

“Yes, and she left within 3 months.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so tough on her.”

“I need someone that can do the work. If they can’t, then that’s their problem.” Herman turned, gazed at his computer screen and looked at his e-mail. “Another resume for a sales job I had about a month ago,” he muttered. He clicked on it and read if over. “Now here’s another resume. I don’t even have an opening for a sales position. But people send me resumes anyway. Not like they even have any industry experience. Look at this one. Bob Metzger. Worked in sales for a company that works with libraries. Libraries.” He moved his swivel chair like a neurotic jockey, raised his eyebrows. “He sold their database for them. Worked there for 12 years. Lost his job about 6 months ago.”

“Guess people just send resumes around.”

“I called on a few of them just for the hell of it. One guy worked in sales for a database that had court cases on them. He worked with law firms. Like we could get a lot of law firms to advertise with us. So I called him.” He took a sip of his coffee, let it dribble onto his chin and desk, set it back on his desk. “He was there for 15 years and was laid off. It was more than obvious that he didn’t have any experience in radio or any companies in the industry. So I asked him why he sent me a resume. Why?” He took another sip of the coffee, drained it. “He said he was looking for a new opportunity and was under a non-compete agreement which meant he couldn’t work in his industry for 2 years.”

“Ours is for 3 years.”

“That’s what I told him. Hey, it’s not my problem that he can’t get a job in his industry but it’s a waste of time for him to be sending me a resume. I don’t need someone like that but I get hundreds of resumes” - here, his voice grew louder - “from all these unqualified people, most of them who lost their jobs.”

“They lost their jobs because they didn’t make their quota so they were dead wood there.”

“You’re probably right.”

There was a knock at the door and Herman said “come in.” The door opened and Bruce Thompson stood in the frame. He had a mass of red hair slicked back in oily waves, revealing a low hairline. His thin lips were split in what was intended to be a smile, but there was no trace of it in the eyes that squinted through his dark rimmed glasses across the high bridge of a small hooked nose.

“Morning Bruce,” Herman said.

“Morning Herman. Tim.”

“Morning.”

Bruce walked in, shutting the door behind him.

“I was talking to Tim about what happened with Diane yesterday,” Herman said. “It seems that nothing happened other than a comment that was made where Tim was giving advice about what she should do in California.”

“So nothing happened as far as her getting an unwanted kiss.”

“Is that what they call it,” Herman said, his voice full of sarcasm. “An unwanted kiss.”

“Yes, that’s what they call it,” Bruce said, seeming bored with the subject.

“Just like Mary,” Herman said, “Diane is looking for a payday.”

“Well, it’s not like people want to work anymore,” Bruce said. “People go into McDonald’s, buy a cup of coffee, spill it on themselves, and McDonald’s gets sued for millions of dollars.”

Herman and Tim shook their heads yes.

Bruce took a deep breath and stretched his neck. “Everyone wants their payday. What was the comment, Tim?”

Tim pressed his lips together. “I just said that if she wants to work for a station right away and be on morning drive, she should get some pictures taken in some hot outfits and send them off with the tapes.”

“And that was it?”

“Well, I said that you can watch a news program and see all these women in gorgeous outfits and they’re really good looking and it’s no wonder they’re working there.”

“Well, maybe she was jealous that you said that,” Bruce ventured. “After all, those women probably came from Miss America contests and won beauty pageants.”

“That’s true,” Herman said.

“Well, she wants this on Tim’s permanent record.”

“I don’t see any reason for that since she is leaving,” Herman said.

“She also wants relief from her non-compete.”

“We can’t let that happen,” Herman said.

“I know,” Bruce replied. “Lets reconvene this afternoon and Tim, you can apologize for what you said and we can move on.”

“That’s fine,” Tim said. “I’m sorry for all this.”

“I know, Tim. Herman is always saying good things about you and I know you’re our top salesman. You’ll be here long after she is gone.”

“Thank you,” Tim said.

“We’ll settle this this afternoon,” Bruce said, clapping his hands. “The four of us will meet here at 3:00.”

“Sounds good,” Herman said.

“Okay.” Bruce turned and left the room.

“Well, that’s that.” Herman said. “Just apologize to the kitten and everything will be okay.”

“Fine. I don’t have a problem with that.”

Herman gazed at his computer, looked at the e-mail he received from Joan. He shook his head as Tim stood up.

“I have some meetings this morning,” Tim said. “Not sure I can be back in time for the sales meeting.”

“That’s fine. No need for you to be there. Just keep bringing in accounts. How are we doing with mission John Carlton?”

“We’re doing good. I’ve been covering his accounts since he was fired and I’ve been offering discounts to all of the clients that worked with him.”

“Good.” Herman pressed a button on the computer and printed out the sales figures for the sales people. “That idiot actually thinks that he can go to work for a TV station and use his relationships with his clients that he had with us to get business for them. We’ll show him. No way he could sell TV time. He was never that good for us in the 5 years we had him. He’ll get eaten alive selling TV time.”

“Yeah, he was a lousy salesman. I tried to help him but he just wouldn’t listen to me.”

“I know. Just another complainer.”

“He was pretty mad about the McDonald’s joke.”

“It was probably a good thing you didn’t admit to him that you did that.”

“It was a joke. I thought it was funny.”

Herman grinned, clasped his hands behind his neck. “If he did his work half as hard as he complained, then he would have made his quota every month.”

“I’m gonna get going,” Tim said.

“Keep up the good work.”

“Oh, almost forgot.” Tim bent over, grabbed the Penthouse magazine from under the couch and handed it to Herman. Herman took it, opened his desk drawer, then put it in there.

Herman picked up the phone as Tim left the room, said “Joan, I need to speak with you, now.”

Joan walked inside as Tim left, shutting the door behind her. Herman picked up the 10 page sales report and held it up. “What’s wrong with this report?”

“I wanted to check it over again.”

“You checked it over yesterday,” Herman growled. “I’ll ask you again. What’s wrong with this report?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where is the logo?”

“I didn’t think you needed...”

“I told you,” Herman broke in, “that I want the logo on the station for every document that I use especially during a sales meeting.” His voice grew louder. “What else is wrong with this report?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where is the date?”

“I thought it was at the top.”

“How do I know that you didn’t print the figures from last month. For all I know, you could have printed the wrong report.”

“I’ll check again.”

“You should have checked more carefully. What else is wrong with this report?”

“I don’t know.”

“You misspelled a name. Page 5. It’s Alix with an I. Not an E.

“I’ll fix it.”

“I thought you did this kind of work before.”

She bit her lower lip. “I have.”

“Doesn’t seem that way to me. Correct this report and get it back to me right away. And since we’re having a sales meeting today, I want you to order some pizza.”

“Okay.”

“Where is your pad?”

“On my desk.”

Herman rolled his eyes, looked up at the yellow ceiling. “I’ve told you countless times to bring your pad in here whenever you come in here.” He made two fists, threw them in the air and shook them. “Go out and get it and come back in and I’ll give you the order for the pizza.”

“Fine.” She turned and left the room.