I covertly watch Cam perform his sales voodoo. He talks in that smooth, used-car-salesman tone that reeks of inauthenticity. I’m surprised anyone falls for that act in this day and age, but it seems to be working right now. Cam pats the guy on the shoulder and points to a leather seat in front of his desk before heading to the back room, presumably to retrieve a new handset.
He winks at me as he passes. “See? He and I get each other.”
I roll my eyes. That’s certainly nothing to brag about. I’m dying to tell him about the time I sold a four million dollar property to a famous tennis player (sure, I had to split the commission with another agent, but it was still a huge amount). But I don’t, because then I’d have to go into why I left the industry, and I can’t deal with that right now. Chris, our manager, knows what I used to do, but Cam has never asked, and I’ve never volunteered the information.
Cam reappears with a new iPhone and prints out a contract. He goes through an elaborate performance of turning on the phone and demonstrating all its fancy functions before waving the customer off with his new purchase. Cam turns to me and grins. “That’s how it’s done.”
“Ooh. You’re so magical,” I coo. And then I turn serious. “You don’t think I could have closed that sale?”
“I don’t know,” he says in a tone that clearly indicates he doesn’t. “He did have six months left on his contract and I sweet-talked the activations department into cancelling the termination fee.”
“Good for you.”
“You want to know how I did it?”
“Not really.”
“Well, I’m going to tell you anyway. I remembered a clever little loophole about guaranteed customer coverage.”
“But that usually only applies in the first month of a contract,” I point out.
“I told the guy in activations that my customer had just moved house and was now in a black spot.”
“But didn’t he ask for the new address? And don’t they make you upgrade to a satellite phone or something?”
“They don’t force you. Anyway, I bullshitted the guy in activations, telling him we’d call back later with the new address, but also saying that I’d read a study about the new iPhone having some increased antenna function that was almost as good as satellite.”
“That’s kind of dishonest. Not to mention ridiculously elaborate. I can’t believe he fell for it.”
He chuckles. “I can be pretty convincing. Besides, I helped the customer, and now I’ve scored another fifty bucks in commission.”
The guy is intolerable. He even looks sleazy, from his sandy, blonde hair that he parts on the side, to his icy blue eyes and narrow nose. Not that his actual features are a problem. It’s the way he arranges them that is. He has this permanent look on his face, like he knows something you don’t. Plus, he insists on wearing a tie every day, which is slightly overcompensating when you work in retail and live in sub-tropical south-east Queensland.
When I’ve moaned about Cam to my best friend (and roommate), Katie, she jokes that we must have some unresolved chemistry. The thought of getting physical with Cam makes me want to puke. It’s not even a love-hate relationship. It’s hate-hate.
“You know what? I think we should make a little wager,” I say.
He eyes me warily. “What kind of wager?”
“For the rest of the day, we alternate customers, and whoever reaches 5pm with the highest commission figures is the winner.”
“What do I get if I win?”
“What do you want?” I shoot back.
He rubs his chin. “Hmm…okay. If I win, you have to be my assistant for the next month. That means making my coffee every morning, doing all my paperwork, and being at my beck and call.”
I gulp. He’s already hard to take. That would just add a whole new level of emotional suffering. But I’m pretty sure I can outsell him if the customer demographics are spread evenly.
“All right. And if I win, you give me half your corporate accounts.” The corporate accounts are the big value ones. Because Cam started working here before me, he claimed all of them and refuses to give any up. I’ve never forced the issue until now.
He blanches. “Half?”
I nod. “Mm-hmm. I’m sick of getting all the ten dollar sales while you get the thousand dollar ones.”
For a moment, I think he’s going to pull out of the bet. But then he shakes his head, and with that stupid smirk he always does, holds out a hand to seal the deal. I take it.
“You’re on,” he says.
I knew his ego couldn’t turn down a bet against a woman.
“Excellent. So to start, we should probably toss a coin to decide who gets the next customer.”
“Whatever you want,” he says dismissively. “I don’t even mind giving you the first one, because I’m still going to beat you.”
“No, no. We need to do this right.” I find a twenty-cent piece someone left in a tray of knick-knacks on the counter and perch it on my thumb. “Heads or tails?”
“Tails,” he says.
I toss the coin in the air, catch it on my hand and flip it over.
“Tails,” I confirm.
His face lights up. “Already winning.”
I bite back a retort. It means nothing.
We both return to our desks and pretend to busy ourselves with our computers. Well, I can’t vouch for Cam, but I have zero work to do until my next customer enters the store—which won’t be at least until after Cam’s next one.
It takes about fifteen minutes—and then a teenage boy comes in. This should be interesting. Cam hates dealing with teenagers. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a grey hoodie, and he has a pair of headphones wrapped around his neck.
Cam refuses to look in my direction. Maybe he’s worried I’ll try to psyche him out. Which admittedly, I might do. There’s a lot on the line today.
“Hey, mate,” he says, approaching the guy. “What can I help you with today?”
“Oh, yeah, hey. Uh, my screen’s cracked. I dropped my phone in the toilet last night.” He tries to give it to Cam, but Cam backs away, as if it was always his intention to go straight to the computer.
“Let me just check your contract,” he says smoothly.
“Uh, do you need to know that? All I want to do is get the screen fixed.”
“I’m just trying to find you the most affordable outcome,” Cam explains. “Is your number with us?”
The guy looks around at the store signage as if he’s noticing it for the first time. “I’m not sure. Can you look it up?”
“That I can.” I notice the vein in Cam’s neck starting to bulge—a sure sign he’s already getting frustrated. Ha. I know that a straight screen repair will result in no commission, whereas a new contract will. And while technically, the guy won’t be out of pocket today if he signs up for a new phone, he will be committing to a minimum spend over the next two years that will be much higher.
“Hang on, I can’t remember what it is.” He types something on the cracked screen and then holds it up for Cam to see. “I think that’s it.”
Cam diligently copies the number into his computer. “Okay. Mr. Simon Mackey?”
“That’s my dad,” the guy confirms. “I’m Jake.”
“Right. Well, it looks like you still have another seven months on contract, and because the damage isn’t a manufacturer fault, you will be charged the full amount of the repair. I could find out the early termination fee for the contract if you like? It might be less.”
“Honestly dude, that sounds like too much hard work. Just tell me how much for the new screen. Besides, wouldn’t my dad have to agree to the termination?”
Yes. Yes, he would.
Cam manages to maintain his composure, but the pressure is building in that vein. “If you’re over eighteen, we could do a transfer of ownership, which won’t take long and won’t cost you anything upfront. On the other hand, the screen repair will cost one hundred and thirty dollars. And it�
�ll be away for at least three days.”
“Damn. I don’t have time to do all that transfer of ownership crap, but I can’t go three days without a phone. Don’t you have, like, a rental phone or something I can borrow while it’s away?”
“Afraid not,” Cam says, shaking his head with fake regret. “But if we signed you up for a new contract today, you wouldn’t have that problem. And I promise it will only take fifteen minutes.”
Hang on. We totally have rental phones. I mean, they’re not amazing, but we have them. Cam can’t rig the contest by breaking the rules.
“Actually, I could just double check to see if we have a spare rental phone?” I offer.
Cam glares at me, but Jake’s face lights up. “Thanks!”
“No problem.” I jump up and head towards the back room. Cam follows.
“What are you doing?” he snaps when we’re out of hearing range.
“Um, my job? Which is more than I can say for you. You can’t cheat on our bet.”
“I’m not cheating. You didn’t say anything about not being able to upsell.”
“You can upsell if you’re being honest. You lied about the rental phones.”
“Because the guy doesn’t know what’s good for him. If he dropped the phone in the toilet, it’s probably going to have corrosion in a few weeks, and then he’ll have to get a new phone anyway.”
“Fine. You tell him that and let him make up his own mind. But also tell him we have rental phones.”
“Whatever.” He stalks back out, grabbing one of the rental phones we don’t normally give to people and holds it up as if it’s the latest technology.
“You’re in luck,” he tells Jake. “We have one of those Nokia 3310 reboot phones.”
“Oh, cool. What’s a Nokia 3310?”
“It was the phone to have back in 2000.”
He furrows his brow. “That’s the year I was born.”
“Well, it’s made a bit of a comeback. You’ll love it. It’s super fast, makes calls and does texts, and it has this great old-school game called Snake.”
Jake takes it from Cam and looks at it dubiously. “The screen is pretty small.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, that doesn’t matter, because it’s not a touchscreen. And you won’t really be using the browser…”
“Why won’t I be using the browser?”
“It’s not designed for that. Listen, Jake. We’re happy to help you out with a phone while yours is away, but we don’t have a bunch of the latest iPhones sitting around as rentals or anything…”
Actually, we do. Well, not the latest latest. But definitely more feature-rich than that Nokia. Although, apparently they’re only for high-spend clients now. I want to call out Cam so bad, but I’ve already made it difficult enough for him. If I interfere again, he’s going to be out for revenge.
“…and I just want to remind you that we could easily set you up with a new phone right now. There’s a chance your other phone could get corrosion in a few weeks and then you’ll be back here again anyway. I promise I can have the transfer of ownership paperwork printed out in no time.”
Jake sighs. “Nah. I’ll take the damn Nokia, and I’ll deal with the corrosion issue if it happens. Just sort out whatever you need to do for the screen repair ASAP. I have to meet someone in the city in half an hour.”
“As you wish.” Cam quickly enters all the repair details and swipes Jake’s debit card to pay for it. “We’ll give you a call as soon as it’s back.”
“Thanks.” Jake takes the sim card out of his old phone and puts it in the rental. I can hear him muttering unhappily to himself as he leaves.
“You realise this means war, don’t you?” Cam says pleasantly.
“Bring it on,” I say with a lot more confidence than I feel.
I hope luck is on my side today.
Check out the rest here: http://mybook.to/MultiDate
Also by Kirsty McManus
Lightweight
http://mybook.to/Lightweight
Perfume Therapy
http://mybook.to/PerfumeTherapy
Saved by the Celebutante
http://mybook.to/SavedByTheCelebutante
Zen Queen
http://mybook.to/ZenQueen
Visit Kirsty’s website and sign up for advance notice of new books, freebies and specials!
https://www.kirstymcmanus.com.au
Or email her at [email protected]
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kirsty McManus was born in Sydney, Australia and moved to Queensland when she was 14. When she was 25, she lived in Japan for a year with her partner Kesh and worked as an English teacher. This was the inspiration behind her debut novel, Zen Queen. She also spent a year in Canada and then settled back down on the Sunshine Coast in 2008. She now writes almost full time, designs the occasional website and looks after her two
little boys.
1996 (90s Flashback Series) Page 19