Beefy
Worst gambler ever
Here's a little anecdote for you all that describes some of the situations we run into on the road, selling tubs at carnivals.
The Characters:
Jerry - 48 years old, spa salesman in my booth, ultra stoner, paranoid. Jerry thinks every customer is one that he's talked to before. He goes out into the parking lot at least 5 times a day to smoke pot, he writes a lot of deals, but pisses a lot of people off.
Tom - 38 years old, twice divorced, gravelly voiced, piss and vinegar redheaded Irishman from Chicago with an ego the size of Jupiter. Fat as hell, bloodshot eyes, and never, ever, EVER runs out of things to say.
The Drama:
Last Tuesday night, all of us sales guys and a waiter from the restaurant were in Tom's room playing cards. Tom and Jerry (I know, the cartoon, but these are their real names) are getting into a lot of pots. Egos are flaring and in the end Jerry beats everyone, takes their money and is feeling pretty good. So as we all depart Tom goes out the the stairs outside the hotel to smoke, and Jerry joins him to smoke pot.
While outside, Tom, sounding like a fat bastard that needs a cough drop, says to Jerry, "I'll bet you a thousand dollars that I sell more spas than you". If I were Jerry, I would have said, "good for you, what do I care how well you do? Best of luck". But I'm not Jerry. Jerry says "No sweat, I'll make more than that taking your money at the poker table". Tom then insults Jerry's ability to sell, and bumps him chest to chest. Next second they're at eachothers throats, and Tom grabs a coffee mug off the bannister and broadsides Jerry with it, Jerry falls down the stairs, splitting his face open and bleeding like a stuck pig.
Jerry ends up in the Hospital with 15 stiches in his face, a broken finger, bruised up and unable to work. Tom and Jerry both get sent home, so now we have two fewer sales guys, and the rest of us are all making more money. Funny how things work out.
Anyhow, greetings from the bizarre land of hot tubs. I'll see you all in a bit.
The Characters:
Jerry - 48 years old, spa salesman in my booth, ultra stoner, paranoid. Jerry thinks every customer is one that he's talked to before. He goes out into the parking lot at least 5 times a day to smoke pot, he writes a lot of deals, but pisses a lot of people off.
Tom - 38 years old, twice divorced, gravelly voiced, piss and vinegar redheaded Irishman from Chicago with an ego the size of Jupiter. Fat as hell, bloodshot eyes, and never, ever, EVER runs out of things to say.
The Drama:
Last Tuesday night, all of us sales guys and a waiter from the restaurant were in Tom's room playing cards. Tom and Jerry (I know, the cartoon, but these are their real names) are getting into a lot of pots. Egos are flaring and in the end Jerry beats everyone, takes their money and is feeling pretty good. So as we all depart Tom goes out the the stairs outside the hotel to smoke, and Jerry joins him to smoke pot.
While outside, Tom, sounding like a fat bastard that needs a cough drop, says to Jerry, "I'll bet you a thousand dollars that I sell more spas than you". If I were Jerry, I would have said, "good for you, what do I care how well you do? Best of luck". But I'm not Jerry. Jerry says "No sweat, I'll make more than that taking your money at the poker table". Tom then insults Jerry's ability to sell, and bumps him chest to chest. Next second they're at eachothers throats, and Tom grabs a coffee mug off the bannister and broadsides Jerry with it, Jerry falls down the stairs, splitting his face open and bleeding like a stuck pig.
Jerry ends up in the Hospital with 15 stiches in his face, a broken finger, bruised up and unable to work. Tom and Jerry both get sent home, so now we have two fewer sales guys, and the rest of us are all making more money. Funny how things work out.
Anyhow, greetings from the bizarre land of hot tubs. I'll see you all in a bit.
