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Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A Chapter by Charles R. Ciminokii

When I returned, Geoff was on his cell phone. I can only guess it was Rick because it was usually the time we would call to tell him we were on the train to our new sales spot. Geoff and I travel from city to city selling micro-computers that free up space and organizes your computer. It’s a convenience item but with the s**t hole of an economy that our country is digging itself into, it’s a hell of a lot cheaper than buying a brand new computer. We gained the luxurious job of traveling salesmen by becoming the best Rick has at H.L.J. He gives us the freedom we earned and he gets his product going nationwide.
As I lay down on the seat with my head setting on my dirty clothes, I lit up a cigarette and listened to the same ramble I heard every time between Geoff and Rick. “When you getting there? Did you get my possible client list? Did you call the post office to see if the new shipment is in?” The same s**t on a different day.
As I started dazing off into my own world, I heard Geoff yell, “Now why the hell are you going to do that, Rick?! Where the f**k do you expect us to sleep?” That’s never a good sign.
“What the f**k is he saying?” I asked as I sat up with a groan.
Geoff muffled the mouth piece, “He is taking our damn housing allowance away for this trip!”
“Give me the f*****g phone,” I spoke as I exhaled smoke, waving my hand in front of him, “Now Ricky, why the hell are you doing this to us?
“F**k, Jack, you’re just the one I wanted to talk to. What the hell’s wrong with your phone? I tried to call you to make sure you got my possible client list and it went straight to your voicemail!”
“It’s dead Rick, I forgot to throw it on the charger.” I really didn’t want to listen to him ramble. “Now why aren’t you fronting us the money for a room?”
“Because, Jack! You two didn’t send me the full amount of money for your quota last week!”
“What are you talking about, Rick? I sent you the total eighty-seven hundred you asked for!” As I said that, Geoff shot a death stare at me.
“Yeah, you did, but the quota I asked for the Philadelphia stop was nine grand! So, the three hundred dollars you have left there you should use to buy your first night’s stay in a motel and sell a few extra pieces to cover the rest of your stay and my quota.”
“You wait just one minute there, Rick. I know it was only eighty-seven,” cracking open my briefcase for the quota sheet; I could feel Geoff’s glare burn a hole in the top of my head.
I grabbed the paper and pulled the phone away from my cheek, “F**k!” placing the phone back, I growled, “Alright Rick, you were right. We’ll buy the room for this trip. Just be ready to get some reserve ships’ coming your way this week. We are making our money’s worth out of this stop!
“Yeah, in a million years, here’s your chance to show me up, Jack. There is no chance in hell that you all will be able to do more than 100 pieces in a week!”
“We’ll see about that, Rickey. You have a damn, swell day!” I gritted as I slammed the phone shut. Geoff was sitting there staring at me, shaking his head. “So what, man? I fucked up! That’s right, you heard me. I fucked up.”
“Yeah, man, you’re right, you did. But not only did you cause Rick to jack our rooms from us but you f*****g challenged him, man! If we don’t follow through he will always look at us as his little b*****s!”
“Ah, f**k it, Geoff! We will be able to push these, no sweat! We are only hours away from Boston! There are plenty of fresh consumers looking for a way to save money by spending with us.”
“I really don’t feel like listening to your s**t right now, Jack. Just shut your trap and let me cool off for awhile.” Geoff said as he curled up in the corner of the cabin with that wrinkly, old paperback.
“Alright man, but I have confidence.” I proclaimed as I stood up, flicked my extinguished butt out the window and walked into the hallway to the diner.

© 2009 Charles R. Ciminokii

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Added on January 8, 2009


Charles R. Ciminokii
Charles R. Ciminokii

I sleep on park benches in, KY

Who am I? Well thats a story within its self to be honest with you. Who I am isn't truly as important as to what I want to do, correct? I am an aspiring renaissance man in which I am not just a writer.. more..