Black Buck(21)
“We are Sumwun. And what Sumwun does is help people live better. Be better. Coexist better. We give people hope: the hope that tomorrow will be a brighter day, the hope that someone out there understands them, and the hope to continue living with purpose. ‘God is not unjust; he will not forget your work and the love you have shown him as you have helped his people and continue to help them.’ Hebrews 6:10. Now go stretch and let’s get this Deals Week fucking started. First person who closes a deal gets a thousand dollars. Cash.”
I thought the whole scene was extreme and straight out of Any Given Sunday, but I’d be lying if I said my heart wasn’t pounding. No way in hell had I bought into their madness, but the energy in the air crackled like static.
“Stretch time!” Clyde shouted.
We filed out of the room one by one. As I waited in line, I noticed that everyone wore the same straight face with hard eyes and clenched jaws. They didn’t have war paint, AK-47s, or fighter jets, but they were soldiers all the same.
And truth be told, they were ready for war.
* * *
I followed the sea of people into the “event space.” Purple couches and wooden tables had been pushed to the side of the room, and the hardwood floors looked as if they’d just been polished. I looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows and took in the unobstructed view of the East River. Then I noticed an orchestra-size gong suspended from the ceiling. What the hell is that for?
The smell of French toast, pancakes, sausage, syrup, and fresh fruit filled the air. Two dozen aluminum trays, heavy with food, sat on a large white marble island toward the back wall. Behind the island, against the far wall, were refrigerators, fruit baskets, moneyless vending machines, cereal dispensers, and taps bearing different labels, like Joyride Coffee Cold Brew, Blue Moon, and Health-Ade Kombucha.
The nonsales crowd toasted bagels, mixed oatmeal, and sliced bananas, never laying a finger on the trays, almost as if they didn’t even see them. The whole thing was like an adult version of Neverland Ranch.
“Circle up,” Clyde said. The salespeople got into formation. “And not a word.”
This is it. The moment of human sacrifice. If I see someone sharpening a knife and licking their lips at me, I’m running. With this decided, I joined the circle a few people away from Clyde.
“To the right,” Clyde commanded. Everyone reached across their chests with their left arms in one swift motion, holding them in place with their right forearms.
“To the left,” Clyde said. Everyone was so used to the motions that his instructions were only a formality; the movements and pace ingrained in them like biological code.
“Smile time,” Clyde said, making the most menacing smile I’d ever seen. His eyes popped out of their sockets, and his mouth stretched so wide I thought he’d tear his lips. But when I surveyed the circle, everyone was smiling like a gang of killer clowns.
“Why aren’t you smiling, Buck?” Clyde asked through clenched teeth.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, exposing my teeth like a feral animal.
Clyde then told us to close our eyes and “breathe it out.” But before I closed my eyes, I noticed that the spectators were watching with increased enthusiasm. Jen from marketing waved at me. Mac from the gym threw up a Black Power fist when our eyes connected. It would’ve been more comforting if Mac was actually Black.
“Keep your eyes closed,” Clyde ordered. “Today is day one of Deals Week, which means we need to do everything humanly possible to hit our goal ASAP.”
The room fell silent.
“We have four hundred and fifty thousand dollars to close this week. I know it sounds like a lot, but we’ve done that with less time before.”
“Damn right we have!” Frodo shouted.
Clyde saluted him. “That’s right, Frodo. But aside from what we need to hit, I want you all to empty your minds and picture yourself a year from now. Where are you? Maybe you’re taking a vacation with your girlfriend in the Caribbean, lying down on the beach, cracking open a fresh lobster. Or you’re hiking Machu Picchu, smelling the ancient Peruvian jungle beneath you as you climb higher, poking your head through dense clouds. What are you wearing?”
To be honest, as he spoke, I couldn’t stop picturing Soraya and me having hot, sweaty sex and ordering pizza afterward. The good thing was that I wouldn’t have to wait a year for that to happen. I’d just need to make it through the day.
The floor creaked as people shifted, all of them prophesying piles of hundred-dollar bills and gold ingots falling from the sky.
“Now come back here, to this building, this floor, and this office. Imagine yourself closing that deal you need, throwing it up on the board to a room of applause. Imagine smashing the crap out of the gong, knowing you didn’t just hit your number, but that you also helped your team hit theirs.”
I wasn’t sure if we were still supposed to have our eyes closed, so I cracked mine open. Every single person in the circle had their eyes shut and heads bowed; they all were nodding and whispering to themselves. I shit you not, some even had tears streaming down their faces. If there was a Church of Sumwun, Monday morning of Deals Week would have been Sunday Mass.
With closed eyes, Clyde extended his arm in front of him and pointed at different parts of the circle, directing his energy. He was a privileged son of a bitch, but he actually did believe in what he was saying and what the company stood for. I had to give him that.