Black Buck(87)

“Where are the individual prices?” Brian asked, scratching his cheek as he scanned the menu.

“There are no individual prices, it’s a fixed menu,” I said.

“Down there.” Ellen pointed to the bottom of Brian’s menu. “See that? It says three hundred forty per person. Service included.”

“Dang,” Jake said, looking over at me. “You sure you gon’ pay for all this?”

“Of course, it’s my pleasure.”

After I ordered a bottle of one of their most expensive champagnes, explained what prix fixe meant, showed Brian how to lay his napkin across his lap instead of shoving it into his collar, and told them to ignore all of the rich white people staring at us, everyone lightened up.

“So what we gon’ do with these new sales superpowers?” Jake asked, smelling his champagne before taking a sip.

“What do you want to do with them?”

“Make loads of money, obviously,” Rose said, swinging her head around the table for confirmation.

“Now tha’s a plan,” Jake said.

Brian silently nodded.

Ellen wiped her mouth, and said, “Of course money. But also use them to get ahead and help others do the same.”

The rest murmured agreement, and I slapped my hands together. “Perfect, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear. Because I have an opportunity. But for only one of you.”

“Who gets it?” Rose asked.

“It’s only right that it goes to Brian, since he was here at the beginning.”

“Will there be others?” Ellen asked, her blank stare seeing right through me.

“Maybe,” I said. “We’ll see. But either way, at least you all have learned something useful, right?”

Of course, Barry needed only one SDR, but that wasn’t my fault. The way I saw it, if the rest of them wanted to better their lives, they were now more equipped to do so. I didn’t owe anyone anything.

Reader: This is called information asymmetry, which basically means that one person has more information than another, giving them an advantage. It used to be more prevalent in sales before potential buyers could google everything, but it still exists, and the sleazier types of salespeople exploit it whenever possible. Don’t be that salesperson.



Everyone nodded, the air heavy with disappointment.

Brian’s eyes darted around the table, ashamed. “What’s the opportunity?”

“An interview. Monday at 9 a.m. You in?”

He took a sip of water and nodded. Everyone took turns rubbing his head, pulling his ears, and shaking his shoulders.

“You got this, boy!” Jake said. “I also want to thank you, Mr. Buck, for takin’ us all in as family.”

“Of course. No problem.”

“Not to get all sentimental, but it’s never been the easiest for me to make friends ’n’ keep ’em, since I spent most of my teenage years in ’n’ outta juvie, ’n’ doin’ all other kinds of foolishness, so I’m grateful for you,” Jake said, looking at me before addressing the table. “For all y’all.”

“Same here,” Ellen said. “I’ve moved around most of my life, seen terrible things, and sometimes still forget who I really am, but I feel grounded with all of you. To Buck.” She raised a glass of champagne.

“To Buck!” everyone echoed.

After we devoured and drank everything in sight, the waiter appeared. “Will there be anything else?” he asked, refilling everyone’s water glasses.

“Just the check,” I replied.

He bowed and walked away.

“This check ’bout to be big as fooook!” Jake shouted, obviously drunk, tipsy, or whatever they call it over in Kentucky.

I doubled over, laughing. “That’s right.” I gripped my stomach in pain.

“What’s so funny?” Rose asked.

“You didn’t think this was going to be that easy, did you? A free meal, and one, two, three”—I snapped three times—“you passed?”

“Whatchu mean?” Jake asked, now sober.

“For your last test”—I waved them in closer as if I were the quarterback in a huddle—“you have to convince the waiter that we’re not paying.”

Brian, as black as asphalt, turned a few shades whiter.

“You’re a sadist,” Rose said, knocking back the last of the champagne straight out of the bottle.

“Regardless of what I am, none of you have your wallets, the bill is going to be bigger than your monthly rent, and I’m sure as hell not paying, so . . .”

“So we have no other choice,” Ellen said. Her face turned red and tears began forming in her eyes.

Jake wrapped an arm around her. “Dang, Ellen. It’s okay.”

“I’m not seriously crying,” she whispered. “It’s for show.”

“One of the most important part of sales is objection handling. You need to do everything in your mortal power to overcome the hurdles others place in front of you.”

The waiter returned with the bill, stood behind me as I reviewed all 2,830 dollars and 75 cents of it, then remained where he was, waiting for us to pay up. I handed the bill to Ellen, who handed it to Brian, who, with trembling hands, handed it to Jake, who, like a kid playing hot potato, tossed it to Rose.