Business culture has long been marked by impressive selfishness and a
chokingly competitive spirit that has, on occasion, literally left
bodies in its wake. In the purely scatological sense, if you're not
number one, you are, indeed, number two. Invariably, this effort to
avoid fecalization can breed a certain amount of paranoia for
weak-minded fools who traffic in a combination of pettiness and
secrecy. A one-time coworker of mine personified these characteristics,
but the story doesn't end there.
After I was out of work for far too long, a friend took pity on me,
getting me on board with the US branch of a
successful-in-spite-of-itself, UK-based pharmaceutical media company.
It was a gig, and in the interest of personal hygiene and saving my
marriage, I gladly took the job. My faithful cohort was also kind
enough to give me the lay of the land. This included giving me the
lowdown on Ed Morgan.* Ed was a lifer, a company man who felt as though
his existence was absolutely vital to the survival of the US operation.
He'd convinced himself of this fact, but was seemingly unaware that
At the most basic beginnings of perception, Ed's complexion was
reminiscent of the back of a sunburned armadillo. Along with this
pockmarked landscape, he'd carried a lisp into adulthood, making every
use of the "s"sound an adventure (especially fun when selling the
company's wares required frequent use of the word "pharmaceutical.") To
cap the whole package off, though, Ed was a confident bastard, which is
generally the hallmark of an insecure loser. He bore a passing
resemblance to actor James Woods, a characteristic that would send a
normal man off to the plastic surgeon looking for some pro bono work,
but it was a fact that Ed would point out with a peacock's pride. It
seems cruel and rather base to make fun of a colleague's personal
appearance and speech impediment. But when the barer of these traits is
a throbbing rectum of a person, all's fair game. In business, though,
he reigned supreme, at least in one area of the media trade.
Ed was easily the biggest commission hound I've come across. He would
crawl across a solid half acre of nail-filled, dirty diapers to grab
onto any sales lead, and then hold on for dear life. Once in the door,
he'd guide the mark toward whatever paid him the highest rate,
regardless of whether or not it would yield any meaningful results for
them. Then, when the unhappy client would never advertise again, he
would proceed to try and sell them anything that wasn't nailed down. It
was an embarrassing effort, but even when his eyes were swollen with
tears, and any normal man would've reached for a length of rope, Ed was
steadfast. He was a living monument to persistently misguided energy, a
veritable human Hackney horse, reputed to be so stubborn and single
minded that he would die working in his harness.
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But
there was always the determination, a highly enviable trait that cannot
be taught, but when combined with skill and polish, can create a sales
professional of unequalled talent and value.
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Talk around the office was that Ed could continue to come home as long
as that sweet paycheck led the way through the front door. He had some
sort of common law marriage, which was rumored to have grown out of one
of those classically romantic substance abuse issues. (Think F. Scott
and Zelda Fitzgerald, or Liz Taylor and Richard Burton, just without
the talent or notoriety.) This blessed union resulted in the birth of a
child. While by my guess, Ed was a perfectly loving father -- not prone
to wickedness or abuse -- he was not a skilled
father. When he failed to enroll his child in kindergarten because he
didn't know he had to do so, this was an indication. When he excitedly
told us of the load of used plush toys he'd lucked into at no cost to
him, sure to result in the merriest Christmas ever, it was simply
further proof of his dubious parental instincts.
But there was
always the determination, a highly enviable trait that cannot be
taught, but when combined with skill and polish, can create a sales
professional of unequalled talent and value. For Ed, it was an internal
organ as vital as his liver or kidneys. It was his special donation to
the effort and what made him successful, regardless of the definition.
Then again, perhaps this is all a great joke, the higher power getting
a giggle out of putting this engine in a truck with no tires and dented
front fenders. Maybe we all need a little Ed in us, but then that's
what his drunken common law wife said.
most of his colleagues regarded him as a chronic annoyance.
