A Firing Offense by George P. Pelecanos Read Free Book Online Page B

help.”
    “What do you need?”
    “You got a pen?”
    “Shoot.”
    “The ad I mocked up for the weekend,” I said. “Have ad services run the proofs over to me here at the store. For next weekend I want to pick up an old ad.”
    “Which one?”
    “Take the ad I did the second week of September, I think the head was ‘September Savings.’ Change the head to ‘October Values.’”
    “How do you keep coming up with these zingers?” she asked.
    “It’s pretty scary, isn’t it?”
    “Yes.”
    “Have you got any camera-ready art down there of a horn-of-plenty?”
    “I’m sure we do,” she said.
    “Good. Put that in the head too, and paste down some art of televisions and radios spilling out of the horn. Got all that?”
    “Yeah. It’s absolutely brilliant, Nicky. I’m sure it will create a feeding frenzy. Anything else you want, while I’m doing your job for you?”
    “That ought to do it.”
    “They know in the office that you’re just picking up old ads?”
    “Patti, Nathan Plavin comes to work every day to be taken out to lunch. I doubt he’s even cognizant of the advertising. The GM, Jerry Rosen, he spends more time out of the office than in. I can’t even tell you what it is he does. Ric Brandon’s just a boy in a suit. Only Gary Fisher keeps an eye on those things, and I’m tight enough with him.”
    “Just want to make sure you know what you’re doing, lover.”
    “Thanks, Patti. Talk to you later.” We hung up.
    Lloyd was waiting on a small appliance customer from whom the others had hidden when she walked in. McGinnes was going down the row of televisions, writing something on the tags. I dialed the office, got Marsha, and asked for Gary Fisher.
    “Fisher,” he said, catching his breath.
    “Fish, it’s Nick.”
    “Nick! What’s happening?”
    “Nothing much. Just wanted to keep you apprised of the ad situation.”
    “Apprise me,” he said. “And trim the fat.”
    “We’re running the ‘blowout’ ad this weekend. Next week we’re doing an ‘October Values’ ad very similar to the ‘September Savings’ promotion we ran last month.”
    “So you’re rerunning the same ad with a different head, right?”
    “That’s right.”
    “As long as it pulls, I don’t give a shit what you call it. Sometimes I think the public doesn’t read the ads anyway. They see something’s going on, they come in and spend money.” He said this almost sadly.
    “Well, if you want to make any changes, let me know. By the way, when did we start buying Korean goods?”
    “You talking about that Kotekna
dreck?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Rosen saw those at the CES show in Vegas and brought in a hundred. One of those ‘show specials.’ Every time I’m in the barn, I see them sitting there, I get a pain in my fucking gut.”
    “They’re not going to turn if they’re not out on the floors. They don’t even have one on display here in the store.”
    “Whatever. It’s Rosen’s problem. Later, Nick.” He hung up.
    Lloyd was still with his customer, an older woman who seemed to be edging away from him in fear. I walked over to McGinnes, who was scribbling seemingly unrelated letters and numbers onto the sales tags.
    “You remember the system?” he asked, continuing his markings.
    “Refresh my memory.”
    “The first two letters in the row are meaningless. The next set of numbers is the commission amount, written backwards. The final letter is the spiff code, if there is a spiff.
A
is five,
B
is ten,
C
is fifteen and so on. So, for example, the figure on this tag,
XP
5732
B
means twenty-three seventy-five commission with a ten dollar spiff. That way, you’re pitching the bait that doesn’t pay dick, you look right beside it on the next model, you see what you get if you make the step, in black and white.” He stepped back to admire his handiwork.
    “Just in case one of these customers asks, so we keep our stories straight, what do we tell
them
the numbers mean?”
    “Inventory control