by Slaton Smith
Sean backed out of the driveway and looked at Bailey, who was sitting in the front window, as he pulled away. He drove down Fifth, hooked up with I-376 and eventually made the left turn onto I-279, which took him through the Ft. Pitt Tunnels. He drove past the airport, jumped on the Turnpike forty minutes later and headed to Cleveland.
He hated the Turnpike. First, it cost a bunch of money, around $14 per round trip. Second, you could not even think of speeding in Ohio. It seemed like the police positioned a car at every other exit. Surely, there are bigger crimes being committed in Ohio than speeding.
Sean liked Cleveland but hated going there, if that makes any sense. The agency he worked for was based there and once a quarter, he had to jump in his fifteen-year-old Jeep, drive over there, like he was today, for a meeting on how their clients could serve more fries, more drinks and more burgers. The first couple of times, he was excited, expecting some sort of magical, creative, light and magic show. It turned out to be the opposite. It was a download session where he was “told” what to sell into his co-ops. The issue was that the franchisor did not like what the agency was serving up, which put him in a bad spot. He also was forced to sell ideas to his franchisees that were contrary to the brand’s strategy, again putting him at odds with the franchisor. You don’t want to be on this company’s naughty list.
His attitude did not make him popular with agency management, primarily the owner of the agency, Bill Voxx. Bill, president of Voxx & Voxx, had inherited the agency from his father. Sean liked old man Voxx, but rarely saw him anymore. Bill had done a decent job of growing the agency’s client roster, but had done so at the expense of his people. The agency was founded on a restaurant account and grew from there. Sean believed Voxx was just fattening up the agency to make it more attractive to a large holding company, which he hoped would swoop in and buy it.
While they had promoted Sean, they had also worked him to the bone, knowing full well that if he quit, there were 314 people, resumes in hand, ready to take his spot. Sean doubted that Bill Voxx had promoted him willingly. He was certain that the franchisees he supported had pushed Bill and the agency to promote him. Sean liked the franchisees. They were what made his job fun and tough at the same time. The fact that he worked out of the regional office in Pittsburgh was a bonus since he did not have to see Bill everyday.
Yes, Sean worked in the harsh world of restaurant marketing and he was at its summit. He worked on one of the biggest brands in the world, but also the toughest. His clients expected him to know everything. And they meant everything; media, finance, promotions, event marketing and operations. At anytime during a meeting, they could ask him about anything and he was expected to know the answer. He knew most of them.
The other requirement for being good account person was the ability to sell. Sell ideas. Sell promotions. Sell in budgets. And boy, could Sean sell. That’s one of reasons the agency kept him around. The franchisees that made up the co-ops listened to him. He had worked for the agency and with the franchisees since he graduated from college. He started as an account coordinator, and now at twenty-six was a very young account supervisor. They listened to him because he had built up credibility with them through countless hours spent in their restaurants. He had put up banners in the snow. He had worked their fry stations when they were short staffed, and like any good agency account person, was able to score those illusive Steelers seats when they came asking.
While there were company-owned units in his co-ops, they were rarely ever able to gain a majority and were thus forced to execute programs that were contrary to their national strategy. Sean knew the national marketing manager would be calling him on the way home to Pittsburgh to hear about the latest idea he would be forced to execute.
Sean made the two-hour drive without incident. No tickets and no breakdowns. He pulled into the parking lot of Voxx & Voxx at 9:45, with fifteen minutes to spare. He parked near the front and got out. When he opened the door, the cold wind off of Lake Erie nearly cut him in half. He quickly pulled on his jacket and grabbed his phone and messenger bag. On the way in, he passed Bill Voxx’s new Porsche. The wind happened to catch him off guard and his bag slipped and knocked into the driver’s side door.
“Oops.”
The agency was an unremarkable two-story brick building located on Chagrin on the east side of Cleveland. The agency’s name was plastered to the side of the building. The nice thing about the location was he didn’t need to pay for parking, unless Bill had figured out how to accomplish that since his last visit.
Sean entered the lobby and was greeted by the receptionist, Erin. Bill, being a pig, had not bothered to really review Erin’s resume. He was more concerned with her looks. He stuck her out front where he could see her from his office on the second floor. (She went to Syracuse, by the way, and wanted to be a copywriter).
“Good morning Sean,” Erin beamed when he came through the door.
“Morning Erin.” Sean stopped and leaned on the reception desk. “When is Bill going to give you a shot?”
“I don’t know. I am getting tired of waiting and tired of him glaring at me from his office. I am thinking of looking for another job.”
“Sorry. I know what it’s like to be stared at like that,” Sean said smiling.
“Yeah, but it’s not for a good reason.” Her phone started ringing. She picked it up, listened, turning to Sean. “Bill wants to see you upstairs.”
“Great.” Sean winked at her and headed to the stairs at the far end of the circular lobby. Like most agencies, the floor was polished stained concrete with clever artwork adorning the walls. Voxx & Voxx had a concealed projector that ran the agency’s reel on a constant loop, all day, every day. That alone would be enough to drive anyone nuts. The stairs were slightly curved to the right and ended on the second floor. Offices ringed the lobby. That’s where the hotshots sat. Everyone else was off in the back somewhere. Kind of like a galley with Bill holding the whip.
Bill’s office was above the entrance to the lobby. Sean stopped at his door and knocked.
“Come in and close the door,” Bill said bluntly. Bill’s office was naturally the largest in the building. A large glass desk dominated the room. A white board and a bar on one side and a small conference table on the other were in sharp contrast to the shag carpet that looked like it was straight out of 1972.
“Good morning,” Sean said, approaching the desk.
“Sit down.” Bill snarled and pointing at the chair in front of the desk. Bill Voxx was not particularly tall, but was impeccably dressed. His most striking feature was a salt and pepper beard. He combed his hair straight back. Sean imagined that the suit he had on cost a quarter of what Sean made in a year. Looking around the office, Sean could see why Bill liked this spot. On one side, he could look at his car and on the other, Erin.
Sean sat down and placed his bag at his feet.
“I see you got dressed up for today.”
Sean did not respond.
“Sean, I have something I need for you to do.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“I need for you to get more money out of your co-ops.”
“We just took up their fees during the planning cycle in the fall. I don’t think they will go for it.”
“Well, I am afraid that if you don’t convince them, you and others will take a pay cut.”
Sean thought about the Porsche out in the lot with the Ohio temporary tags on the back.
“That include you?” Sean asked. Bill stood up.
“What did you just say?”
“I asked if you were going to take a pay cut too,” Sean answered back, his eyes narrowing.
“Sean, you know that I never liked you. The client likes you. My father thinks you are charming, but he’s not here anymore.”
”I like your father, too.”
“Hearing you say that makes me dislike you all the more. You know, I just came up with a way to save some cash. This is your last day! Go to HR!
Turn in your computer!”
“What?” Sean said, standing up. A smug look on his face, Bill walked over to his door and opened it.
“Oh, and if I find out that you are in contact with any of my clients, I will make sure you never work in this industry again. Get out!” Bill took a long look at Erin and then slammed the door.
Sean was pissed, worried and elated at the same time. He walked down the hall to the HR director, Cathy Ross’ office, stood at her door, but she was on the phone.
“Sean? Really? I don’t understand. Yes, I will take care of it. Sir, we have to give him his vacation.” She hung up and waved him in.
“Hi Cathy.” Cathy had been with the agency for fifteen years and knew how Bill operated.
“Sean. I am sorry. You know he has been waiting to get you. You shouldn’t have given him the opportunity.”
“Is it because he’s short and I’m tall?”
She laughed, “Maybe.”
“Here’s my laptop,” he said, handing it across to her.
“Thanks. You know, he wants to give you nothing, but we have policies here.” She was typing on her keyboard. Sean sat silently.
“Looks like you have been here five years, which entitles you to five weeks salary on top of the normal two weeks of severance. Plus, you have four weeks of vacation earned. I am afraid that’s the best I can do.”
“I understand.”
“Look, send me your expenses for this trip. I will take care of it. I will ask them to cut the check this week.”
“Thanks.” Sean was now more worried than pissed.
Cathy gave him a hug.
“Come on, I will walk you out.”
Cathy and Sean walked downstairs past Erin. Erin had tears in her eyes. Cathy stood at the door as Sean walked out into the parking lot past the Porsche to his Jeep. He was tempted to key it, but knew Bill would have him thrown in jail. He tossed his computer-less bag into the passenger seat and started the Jeep. As he backed up he noticed the Porsche was right behind him. He depressed the clutch, revved the engine, and took off spraying what was left of the winter salt all over Bill’s car. He made his way up Chagrin Boulevard, jumped onto I-271, which took him to I-480 and the despised Ohio Turnpike.
He was about forty minutes into his trip when the phone rang. The Jeep’s torn top made it tough to hear.
“Hello.”
“Sean, this is Scott Drury. I just got a call from Bill. What’s all that noise?” Scott was the Pittsburgh co-op president.
“My Jeep. I need a new top. What did Bill have to say?”
“He told me he let you go for insubordination. What happened?”
“Scott, I will tell you all about it when I get my check from those guys. I would not put it past Bill to keep it.”
“Well. I can tell you, the franchisees are not happy and things are not going to go well for Bill. He said he was coming to our next meeting. I asked him if he knew how to find Pittsburgh.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
“Sean. I will call you next week. Let’s get together for a beer.”
“Thanks again Scott.” Sean dropped his phone on the passenger seat and kept driving.
Looking down at his phone, he saw a handful of texts from Michelle. She wanted him to call her. He was seeing her off and on and was certain the news of his firing would not please her. She felt he was reckless and immature. She wanted him to settle down and he was just not ready or sure he wanted to settle down with her. He was twenty-six for Christ’s sakes! She had been pushing him since college to become more serious about their relationship. Sean found her smothering at times. He felt the need to rebel against the pressure.
The text message notification kept beeping. He turned off the phone.
It was nearly 1 P.M. and there wasn’t much traffic, for which he was thankful.
He pulled off the turnpike and headed towards downtown. He stopped at a gas station at the top of Greentree Hill. “What the hell?” Might as well charge the agency for mileage and the gas,” he thought. He stood there pumping the gas, looking at his torn top. He saw a Starbucks across the street. It was one of those cool buildings that they had some how wedged into a very small space.
“A coffee would be nice,” he thought. Not the smartest use of money, especially in light of his recent career detour, but he didn’t care. He finished filling up the Jeep, put the receipt in his pocket and made his way over to Starbucks. He ordered his usual and pulled back out onto Greentree and made right back onto I-279 and down the other side of the hill. As usual, traffic backed up in front of the tunnel. For some reason, people in Pittsburgh felt they needed to slow down and aim their cars into the tunnel opening. Once inside, they sped up. Strange, but true.
Sean took a sip of his coffee. He came out of the tunnel, turned and looked at Heinz Field, as he always did. What he didn’t notice was that the traffic had come to a screeching halt one hundred feet in front of him. He slammed on the breaks. The Jeep stopped, but not without spilling his drink. It went all over the floor and his shoes. The Jeep now reeked of coffee, which some might say was an improvement.
“Perfect! Just perfect!” he said. The traffic had stopped just short of the exit to I-376. Sean sat for several minutes before traffic started moving. He took the Forbes exit and made it to Shadyside without further trouble. He turned off of Fifth and onto St. James. The trees were budding and Pittsburgh would soon be green again. The streets, slightly slick from an afternoon shower, smelled fresh. He pulled into the driveway and saw Bailey where she had been when he left, looking out the big picture window. She jumped down and ran to the back door when she saw him.
Sean stopped short of the garage and got out, walked to the front of the garage, bent over and lifted the door. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the light, but he found what he was looking for, a roll of paper towels. He went back to the Jeep and soaked up the coffee off the rubber floor mats. He took the towels and the empty cup and tossed them in the garbage can on the side of the garage, gathered his bag and phone and went to the back door. Bailey was jumping up and down, excited to see him and also to go out. He opened the door and she bounded out. She jumped all over him and he did his best to hug her, but she was too crazy.
“Go do your business girl.”
She ran into the yard and came right back. Sean tossed his bag into a chair in the kitchen and dropped his keys and phone on the counter. No one was home. Brian would be back about 7 P.M. Upstairs, he took off his jacket and hung it in the closet, took off his shirt and tossed it on the floor. He looked at his shoes, now stained with coffee. “Damn it!” He slipped them off, took off his pants and threw them on the floor, next to the shirt.
Standing there in the mirror, he looked at himself. He felt he was in decent shape, a little extra around his waist, and he seems to be getting a little jowly, but not too bad.
“I guess we could run a little more,” he said to Bailey. She was fine with that. She could run all day. Sean was the one who hated running. He didn’t mind going to the gym, but he just couldn’t focus on working out. He always ended up going for a month or so religiously, but then lost interest and stopped. He pulled out a sweatshirt, some wool socks and a pair of jeans, put them on and walked downstairs. Bailey hopped up next to him on the couch. He swiveled around and lay down and tried to forget about his shitty day. She hopped off and then got back up and lay down on top of him. She was warm and Sean soon fell asleep. Dogs have that effect; they can make you feel like there’s nothing in the world more important than you.
II
A cold beer and a break-up
Pittsburgh
The afternoon moved into night. Sean remained on the couch - he had not moved since returning from Cleveland, the sight of his spectacular firing. A set of headlights illuminated the room. Bailey put her head up to see Brian’s police cruiser pull into the driveway and she jumped up to greet him. Brian entered the house though the kitchen.
“Hey Baile
y.” He threw his keys down next to Sean’s and came into the dark living room and flipped on the light. Brian sat down on the chair and looked at Sean.
“Why is your phone off?”
Sean covered his eyes with his arm.
“I didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”
“Michelle wants to talk to you. She has been driving me fucking nuts.”
“I don’t want to talk to her right now.”
“She’s your girlfriend, not mine and I am not your answering service.”
Sean sat up and Bailey jumped up next to him.
“Bill fired me.”
“What? What happened? I don’t believe it. The franchisees love you,” Brian asked, leaning forward.