Once many years ago, as I worked on the periphery of the photography business I so loved, I was assigned to prove myself, prior to being give a region sales managers position with one of the great Japanese photography companies. "They were merely big ole cameras", I was told and given a do-or- die short-range copier sales goal to attain. Sales is sales, right?
Little did they realize that I would literally explain the capital product just like a big old camera--and that it would resonate with technical believablility and the confort with which I delievered it, as I was attempting to prove myself. It sounded plausible and genuine--and it was. It was a good alternative product to what had long been the defacto king of the copier world. I believed it to be the best alternative available.
It was typical, although I tried to avoid it, to place a copier in the place of business for a few day trial--presumably to prove that it would hold up under their abuse better than the other dueling copiers you were competing against. I only had one copier that I could demonstrate so I hesitated in doing this step, and could usually get by without it. It was a large robust, and expensive piece of equipment. I knew that it would blow the competition away.
There was this one young lady about my age who had also obviously felt that she had something to prove of her fine business savvy. I left the copier for the required three days, when I came back she demanded that my copier remain there alongside a couple of other competitive copiers for the rest of the week during a huge job that she felt "would be the perfect test of endurance". I cringed. She was running-up way too many copies during this process. She'd figured out, as she supposed, that this would get the company she worked for literally thousands of dollars of free copies with everyone trying to prove his copier was the best. Obviously, mine beingthe fastest she would rely heavily on it for this task.
I was no dummy. I had my own inside sources, and the word was that if the choice were left up to the young lady in her assigned project--that she would choose the copier placed on trial by her boyfriend--of course. So, I made a bit of a public office spectacle out of asking her that if I left my copier for the remaining three days and it performed well--would she promise that the company would buy it--and that week.
I had also heard that the her boyfriends copier, decidedly a smaller less capable copier, would be taken out that day. This would reduce any chance of the lesser copier's breakdown and looking bad to the office staff. To that point all copiers had performed reasonably well, although mine was favored for speed. It was actually the only producted rated for the vloume they were runningon average. I had tried to make this distinction and I felt that the office staff was on MY side.
The pretty dark-complected lady with the NYC stilt to her voice--was wry with her answer. Oh, she was a tough one alright. "Well I can tell you this, you sure won't get this deal if you don't leave it here." I knew that I was being played but I also knew something of the excellent reputation for ethics that her company always tried to maintain, and I also blieved in a principle that I call the boomarang (RWEmerson's Law Of Compensation). I left the copier and didn't worry about it on the third day which was a Saturday and waited ot go back on Monday.
Give some people enough rope, and they'll hang themselves, the saying goes. When I happily walsed in with my order all made out and pen in hand, the lady made me wait my due, even though I could see her within her cubical that she was just shooting the breeze and smoking. That's back when it was cool to smoke at work--especially for tough businesswomen. It irritated me, but I waited. I had no choice.
I don't know if the lady just didn't like my looks or if she was merely trying to showcase to the rest of the office what a hot-shot she was, down from the Big Apple to show the Southern belles how the big dogs did it. Dog was right. Finally she came out as if sent on a mission from God and boldly declared that the decision had been made--and it was not good news for me.
I barely batted an eye. I thanked her for that and asked to see the copier so that I could get the meter reading for the final count of free copies I had provided. Oddly, it was still chugging the copiers out. The gall I thought. I didn't unplug the copier, or make ready for removing it. I merely excused myself and made my way to the reception area as everyone curiously watched me. I asked to see the branch manager of the well-known financial company.
I sat down and waited. The graying middle aged manager, was by the very nature of the business, an extremely busy man. He didn't know me from Adam, nor did he ask for any more than for my name. I could see him. (Cubicles were just becoming the new modern way--copied from the Japanese business model.) He looked my way and with an apologetic voice that I could hear across the large business area, he said, "Yes, tell the gentleman to please wait; I'm so sorry but it may be a moment or two before I can finish this dictation, or I'll totally forget." I sat down again.
I just happened to look at my watch. I knew how long a few moments could often turn into. I was surprised that exactly three-and-one-half minutes later the man donned his suit coat, bushed it off uncounsciously, buttoned a button, and made his way thorough the maze of overstuffed cubicles to where I was. He smiled and extended his hand and graciously apologized for his delay.
I was about to speak when He asked, "coffee? Linda get this man a fresh coffee--Oh you don't drink coffee? Rare bird indeed. Good for you. How 'bout a cold soft drink, Linda . . . Doug, " he spoke my name as if we were fast friends. I even wondered if he had misunderstood who I was and with whom or if we had met somewhre before.
"Doug, please follow me to my office I've got to drop this one thing by, but it won't be much of a detour, damned cubicles, I wonder when this fad will fade?" He chucked a bit as I followed and he'd half turn every little bit as if I might get lost, saying friendly this-and , for all she nkew.hats all the way. It didn't take long for us to reach HIS cubicle. It was at least enclosed in glass but he left the door open.
"Please sit down," he said. I was to learn that he knew exactly who I was. He had looked at my card but I didn't really know when." My gaze had necessarily turned toward my NYC nemesis a couple of times as I had walked. She had a worried look. At last look she was burying her head as if to hide completely at her desk. I felt that she might even crawl under her desk. I have no idea of what she might be thinking, but by the actions of my new friend--I could have been his long lost son--and in her previous words to me, it didn't appear to be good news for her.
Me and the older manager politely chatted for a few minutes before he said, "Now how can I help you sir?" He said.
I almost felt bad, but I managed to stammer my story. I told him that I had left the copier and all the details about the requisite extended stay. He nodded with his brow slightly furrowed. Then I added.
"Mr, Fine man, your office has run over one-hundred thousand copies on my brand new copier. "
He blinked as I tried to drive my point home.
"Sir, that would be paramount to going to the Mercedes/ BMW dealership . . ." (I had already noted what kind of car he drove, ". . . and taking the car for a test spin to Alaska. I'll likely get fired for this. My coier is clearly themost expensive, but is also clearly the best, as evidenced by how much it has been used. See, there is not another copier left--and mine is still being used."
I let that sink in and it didn't take long as a distressed look came over his face. I didn't know what he would say next. It had been a long shot--but not that long, I was about to find out.
Mr. Fine man, shook his head. "Son (this is not disrespectful in the South), I don't know what to say. This is terribly embarrassing. And you'll certainly not get fired. Of course we will buy your copier, it would be unethical for us to do anything else. Thank you for calling this to my attention."
I still had the paperwork in hand, and I asked for him to sign it, which he did. The meeting was only long enough after that for him to reassure me that I had acted rightly and to come back and visit with him about some other equipment they'd be needing in the future. I thanked him graciously and left.
I tried not to kick my heels up in the air as I left. I winked at my inside girl on the way out. I just couldn't force a look at the young lady from NYC. I felt a little, not much, but a little sorry for her.
So why do I include this story in this photography/camera blog at this time. Well, I feel that I just got used just like that by an eBayer who took advantage of me--and I wanted to remind myself and others that not all people are like that. And to honor the ethics of a wel-know financial trading company at a time when such companies are under great scrutiny. And thank-goodness, that some of us still believe that the good duy ultimately wins.
