of business over the years for Nathan’s. When we worked the floor together over on Connecticut Avenue, he had a huge customer following. To let go of a valuable employee just like that, because, I don’t know, he blew smoke in somebody’s face, or whatever—I just thought the guy deserved to know what was coming down.”
“It’s not your job to think of anything when it comes to salesmen and managers. I’ll do the thinking in that department, understand?” I nodded, his features softened, and he continued. “If I didn’t like you, Nick, I’d start looking for a new advertising director. I’ve discussed this with Rosen. He feels that your actions are a serious infraction. I’ve convinced him, however, that you’re salvageable.”
He hadn’t of course, spoken to Jerry Rosen, the company’s general manager. He was merely trying to throw a scare into me while at the same time taking credit for being a regular Joe.
“Nick,” he said, “all I want for you to do is get with the program.” His thumb and forefinger met to form an “O” as he talked, a peculiarly delicate gesture for such a large man. “This is a very tough year for us. Margins have eroded to the point where we’re working on ten dollar bills. Overhead is way up. And the power retailers are coming to town to put independents like us out of business. What I’m saying is, I need your experience on the team. I’m putting the ball in your court, Nick. What do you think?”
“I think you’re overheating the sports metaphors,” I said. Then I shrugged sheepishly and grinned like Stan Laurel.
“I’m serious,” he said. “I really believe in this company. I want us all to move forward, and I want you to be a part of it.”
Coming from a sales background, I had a natural distrust for managers. I didn’t really dislike Brandon; I guess it was something closer to pity. I wanted to tell him to loosen up his windsor knot, sleep with some strange women, and generally act in an irresponsible manner for the next five years. But like many men my age, I was only mourning the passing of my twenties.
“I’ll make the effort,” I said. He showed me some teeth, put his hand in the shape of a pistol, pointed it in my direction, and squeezed off an imaginary round. I smiled back weakly and left his office.
I picked up a stack of messages from the front desk, where Marsha had fanned them out in a decorative pattern. On the way back to my own desk I passed a girl from our service department who had an unusually tight and beautifully formed ass. We looked each other over, and I got a smile. As she slid past, I smelled dime-store perfume laced with nicotine.
I looked over the messages at my desk. Two were from radio reps and a third was from a salesman from one of the local papers. My rep at the Post, Patti Dawson, had called. I threw all of these messages away but made a mental note to return Patti’s call. The last message was from a Mr. Pence, a name I didn’t recognize. I slipped that piece of paper beneath my phone.
For the remainder of the afternoon I traded retail clichés (“Katie, Bar the Door,” “Passin’ Them Out Like Popcorn”) with Fisher, the company merch manager, and finished laying out my weekend ad for the Post.
A breathy intern answered the phone when I called the Post looking for Patti Dawson. She said that Patti was on the road and that I should try her car phone.
After four tapping sounds and two rings, Patti answered. There was some sort of light pop in the background, Luther Vandross or one of his imitators. Patti kept her car stereo cemented on WHUR.
“What’s your schedule like today?” she asked, her voice sounding remote on the speakerphone but characteristically musical.
“I’ve just finished my Ninth Symphony,” I said. “Later I’m performing brain surgery on the President.”
“You got any time in your busy day to give me an ad?”
“It’s done. I’m gonna cut out early. I’ll leave the ad on my desk. You can just drop Saturday’s proof here and I’ll correct it tomorrow.”
“I’ll also drop our new rate card by.”
“Courtesy of those philanthropists at the Washington Post?”
“You got it,” she said, her voice beginning to break apart. I said I’d talk to her later, and she said something I couldn’t make out, though somewhere in there she used the