Free Falling

[chanaud]

A closed thread for Darren...

“Remind me again.. why I’m here.” Devon asked into the cell phone which was locked between her shoulder and jaw, while struggling into her sheer pantyhose.

“Listen doll.” A gruff voice started.

“Don’t call me doll! You know I hate it when you do that.”

“Ok..ok.. Dev. I like you a lot. You know that. You remind me of my daughter.”

“You don’t have a daughter, Mike. You have two sons, who only contact you when they need money.” Devon interjected.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You don’t have to remind me. Listen… You’ve had a long and successful run. And somehow you’ve managed to stay on top of your game for three long years. That’s one hell of a sales career. But lately… something’s changed. I don’t know what it is. Your heart doesn’t seem to be into it. You don’t desire the game anymore. I’ve noticed, corporate noticed, and dammit, your clients have noticed. .”

“I know I’ve been in a slump, Mike. I’m allowed a set back or two, right? We’re talking about me. Who has landed more million dollar contracts in the history of Economic Digital Engineers?” Devon cried out while buttoning the pearl buttons to her Irish linen blouse.

“You dollface, you. Honey, it pains me to see you going through this. And yes we’ve given successions because of your history, but six months???”

“I know…I know… I’m almost out of it. That’s why I don’t know why I’m here when IBM is ready to sign.”

A deafening silence filled the hotel room.

“Mike? Talk to me, Mike.” Sensing something's wrong, Devon cried out.

Mike sighed, “Corporate wants you out.”

“Whaaat?”

“I tried, Dev. They just feel Joel would be the better man err.. person considering the size of the account.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me! Do you know I’m the one who initialized the sale? I wined and dined them for four solid months. I even had to take that pimply assed Project Manager to a strip joint. Eight times!”

“I’m aware of that. So is corporate. And because of that you’ll be give the whole Northwest Territory.”

“The whole friggin’ Northwest Territory doesn’t amount to a quarter of what IBM is going to buy from us. Dammit, Mike, get me the fuck out of here now. I need to…”

“Wait a minute, Dev. You’re not going anymore. You’re going to attend this seminar, learn some new tricks, regroup, and then come back and prove to us you’re ready for an account the size of IBM. Do this for me, Devon. Do this for yourself.”

“Mike…” She pleaded, weakly.

“Honey you don’t have a choice. Corporate made a decision, and you know it takes an act of Congress for them to change their minds. You either play along and like it or well… I don’t have to tell you what your options are.” Mike stated, matter of factly.

The phone dropped from her hand slowly. Devon doubled over, clutching her stomach. The doctor warned her to slow down, to take a vacation. Otherwise, the ulcer will just grow larger. But she didn’t heed his advice. And look where it’s gotten her.

Devon shook out two Tums, then three. Munching hard on them, she looked in the mirror. Tiredness was evident. The bags under her eyes were dark, the size of quarter moons. Other than that she looked good. She still had the power to turn more than a few heads from men and women both. And sex was for her choosing if she chooses, that is. She didn’t. Her career had always been priority of her life.

Then she saw something. Something she’s never seen before. Devon peered closer into the mirror. There it was. A tiny line resembling a wrinkle over her left eye. Fuck! Can this day get any worse?

She attended the first day as Mike told her to. Notable speakers climbed onstage to lecture on winning in sales, how to succeed in the digital world, building relationships with clients, how to maintain relationships with clients, women succeeding in the digital world, women building relationships, women maintaining relationships..

Blah Blah Blah

Devon didn’t hear any of it. Her mind was elsewhere...

 

[darrenfate]

Marty

Marty climbed out of his faithful old Toyota Camry and stretched his six foot three inch frame out. He had bought the Camry for the long run, and while it wasn't really made for tall men it was the logical, prudent choice. The four hundred miles, had taken a toll on his back, but he knew that he could really use the expense mileage of 37 and a half cents a mile times 400 times two ( thats 300 bucks for you non engineer readers out there ) that the firm would pay him to drive to the conference instead of fly. After subtracting the sixty bucks gas would cost him for the round trip, he'd still net $240. He smiled inwardly at his cleverness.

Being a stockbroker had really been tough lately. In his heyday, it had been like printing commission money, and an internal operator like Marty had done well for his clients. Now though, being a conservative sound advisor wasn't enough. His clients had been steadily leaving him for years in favor of discount brokers with low flat rate per trade commissions.

Management at Old Royal Investments wanted him to grow his book of business, and Marty was personally confused about the tough cold calling techniques they wanted him to use. Talk about building sales pipelines and sales funnels made no sense to him. They might as well be talking about telemarketers selling subscriptions to Time Magazine instead of his professional services. The relevance was lost, and so he went through the motions now with his "daily cold call quota" that measured the number of dials he made. None of it was working, and his client list got lower and lower every month.

Dave, the new sales manager inherited Marty on his team, and wanted to can him, but Old Royal's HR department insisted that without a blemish on Dave's yearly evaluations for the past 15 years, firing Dave now was a lawsuit waiting to happen. So they offered him "training" to give him the tools he would need to compete out there.

Marty knew all this, and also knew that it was hopeless. He was running out of time at Royal and he hadn't the faintest idea on how to save himself.

What would he do? Where could he go next? His reverie was broken by his cell phone ringing ...

Hello, Angie? Is something wrong?

Why would you say that Marty?

You never call me so early.

True. Well at least your instincts are good.

What do you mean Ang?

Look, I can't do this face to face, so I waited to call you until you were far away. I want out Marty.

Out? of what ...

Of us. You hate your job, you ignore me, our marriage is a joke and you know it. Now with Beth in college, its time.

Wait ...

No. All your stuff is out of the townhouse. I put it in storage. You can't come home, because you don't live here any more.

DAMN YOU ...

Fuck you Marty. You know I'm right, so fuck you and your carefully ordered life. I'm still young. I want to live. I want to be wild, to take chances. You are an anchor to me, and I took your rope off my neck before we hit bottom. I feel great now. So fuck you Marty.

But Beth ...

I told Bethy. She'll get over it. She supports me because she knows how unhappy I've been.

I never knew ...

Exactly. You never knew. You never asked. Goodbye Marty. My lawyer will call you.

"Goodbye Angie" Marty said into the cellphone, even though she wasn't there. Without checking in, he made his way down to the bar. Marty pushed aside the guilt he felt about making his clothes stay wrinkled in his travel bag. He ordered a drink, his mind whirling and said aloud ...

Time to get WILD Marty boy ...

Taking a chance that his pants would stay wrinkled was a first step. Just what was "wild" anyway? He sighed.

Perhaps the answer to all his problems could be found in this bar or at the bottom of this Manhattan glass.

Perhaps not.

 

[chanaud]

A group of women had somehow coerced her to dinner and drinks. They assumed the power Devon wield by her crisp Anne Taylor suit and was instantly magnetized to her. Devon was so flattered by the flattery she was getting, she agreed wholeheartedly.

Then they told her who they represented.

Junior League Volunteers, Devon almost spat out her Chardonnay at the mere idea of being associated by a bunch of dim minded volunteers, who have nothing better but to fill their void with luncheons and the occasional fund raisers to erect a new art sculpture at their hometown park. She was above all that. Or was she? Was this how her life was succumbed to. Maybe she reeks of a farce, a has been, an over the hill, a hero to zero within a short matter of time. Maybe they had singled her out as one of their own. Maybe she’s getting a taste of her future right now. But she’s not even married. Or even dating anyone.

Oh God, how in the hell do I get myself out of this? Her scalp started crawling, her throat was closing in, her eyes darting everywhere for the nearest escape. . The room was spinning. She needed air.

“I’m sorry. I just realized I have a call to make,” she announced suddenly.

“You go ahead, sugah. I don’t think we’re ready to order dinner, yet,” a perfectly coiffed blonde responded.

The idea of dinner with these mindless gaggle of Stepford wives made Devon want to vomit. The mere attempt to respond would have resulted in her feelings. So she ran. Ran as fast as she could out of the smoky bar and into the cool night air.

Three long blocks later, Devon shivered. She attempted to close her jacket around her, but found that she had left it behind. Again she shivered. A foggy mist surrounded her. She was so lost. The tears welled up in her eyes.

Where was she? She looked around frantically, looking for clues of her whereabouts. The streets were quiet, not a soul was in sight. The tall buildings stood like gargoyles. She was still downtown, Devon sighed. Behind her she heard the imaginary squeals of laughter. Probably directed at her because of the lack of a husband, children in her life. They were probably drinking while waiting for her return. Maybe after a few more rounds of high octane fruity drinks, they may realize she was missing. Maybe not.

Ahead was a park. A picnic bench reminded Devon of the thin strappy heels which was highly unsuitable for walking long distance.

Devon strolled to the bench, then slumped down carelessly.

She was tired. So, so tired….

 

[darrenfate]

Marty sat there in the bar watching the endless stream of college basketball which ESPN put up in this nasty “between seasons” time. Football was over, it was too early for baseball, hockey was committing suicide, and so this meaningless pre March Madness hoops was all they had left. Pathetic. Rivalry week my ass! Adding insult to injury, ESPN was becoming too much like its parent company Disney, what with its political correctness and smarmy fawning over pampered superstars.

Even in his depressed condition, Marty couldn’t bear to waste a night on this drivel. Throwing some cash to cover his tab, Marty stood up, and walked out.

As he passed the restaurant, he heard a southern drawl float up over the cacophony of voices ,,

Now wheh evah do you think she went?

How rude, did y’all see how she just drank that entire drink in one huge gulp? I do declare she is an alcoholic!

She seemed nice enough, and I did so want to ask her about volunteering for the Festival…

Yes, we do need someone to be in charge of ticket sales there, I heard she was in sales …

The Festival of Trees is our biggest moneymaker and the League certainly gives so much to the community, I just can’t imagine why she’s walk out on us, why we hadn’t even asked her to do anything yet –

Ladies, some woman are just not fit to be Junior League material, I’m going to give that woman a piece of my mind, let’s move on to talk about this scrumptious key lime pie !

Something in that made Marty shiver, he was thankful that all he had was a spiteful soon to be ex wife. It could be worse. He could be married to one of those women! He tried to imagine sex with one of those creatures. The tall blonde one with the poofy hair and fake boobs probably hadn’t been on her knees giving a blowjob since she was earning that big marquis cut diamond on her left hand twenty years ago. And as to the horse faced one the only way he’d fuck a homely one like her would be turning her around bending her over …

Suddenly, he needed some air. This was a new low.

The chill of the early evening hung over the streets. He walked a few blocks this way, then a few more blocks that way. He was people watching. The thing is, everyone was focused on their own inner world and looked right through him if they saw him at all.

Then, he saw her. Sitting on a bench, eyes squeezed shut. He couldn’t tell if she was sleeping or crying. She didn’t fit in here. Then again, neither did he.

He remembered her well from the conference that day, even though they had never spoken. He had admired her from across the room.

She had been dressed in a crisply pressed cream colored linen suit which had accentuated her graceful curves. Northern men are all suckers for a woman in a linen suit, and Marty was no exception. It’s just not something they see every day.

Now she was without her jacket, just a sheer blouse that in this cold weather held nothing to the imagination. His sister had a phrase for it, “Nipply weather” she would say. The woman still had her name badge on, DEVON was in large block letters.

Marty thought time to get wild. Well, if not wild, at least time to take a chance. Marty hesitated, he could still just walk away. He saw her shiver, eyes still tightly shut. That clinched it. Marty took off his leather coat and said –

Devon.

Whaaaa? How did you know …

Your name badge. We’re at the same conference. Here take this coat, it's getting cold out here.

Come on, I’ll walk you back.

Marty extended his hand, smiling his best smile …

 

[chanaud]

Devon Mitchell

Under normal circumstances, Devon would have turned her nose at him and turned him down politely, yet firmly. But then if this was normal circumstances, she wouldn’t be sitting on a park bench alone, like a homeless person.

In deep despair, Devon took his hand. He started to head back to the hotel, but she shook her head. They turned the opposite direction. Her eyes were glassy. Goosebumps coated her bare skin. She knew he had questions, but she didn’t invite them. She didn’t even glance his way.

After long a few blocks of silence, Marty gathered enough nerve to ask, “Do you want to talk?”

“Do you ever feel like you’ve lost control over everything?” Devon asked aloud, not really directing it at him and she really didn’t expect an answer.

“Have we really had control of everything? And do you really want that much control?” Mary responded.

The questions brought life to Devon’s eyes. She turned to him and smiled. “Of course, why not? Shouldn’t be in charge of our own destiny?”

 

[darrenfate]

MARTY

Usually, when someone told Marty about things that were bothering them Marty would go into full problem solving mode. He'd come up with ideas, rationales for behavior, he'd even lobby for what he saw as the right course of action. In despair one time, Angie (having just read Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus) had disgustingly proclaimed this to be "typical male behavior".

So when Devon started talking, he resolved to just listen, to draw her out.

In charge of your own destiny, do you take that to mean taking chances Devon?

Not necessarily, I mean being active instead of passive.

Ah. I had a friend who swore by the old saying that he'd rather beg for forgiveness than ask for permission. Is that what you mean?

Yes. Although if you think about it, taking chances can be part of it. Or not

Marty liked her, and somehow just by holding her hand and talking he felt more intimate with her than he had with Angie for years. They walked another block in silence and then Marty spoke again -

Ever want to just chuck everything and walk away? Like the woman in Under the Tuscan Sun did. Just up and go and meet your new life square on, come what may.

Devon looked him in the eyes and said slowly ...

I think everyone has dreamed of just going away like that. I know I have. How about you?

Yes. In fact -

Marty pulled out his Northwest Airlines frequent flier card. He had been squirreling away miles for years, and now could fly anywhere worldwide twice over. Marty continued ...

In fact, how about now? Let's leave. Nothing holds me here. How about we go to Spain or Madrid or Italy and start new. If we stay together, so be it. If not, then not. Let the fates decide! Let's take two weeks to get our affairs in order then we go. You pick the country. Are you in?

Marty saw the shocked look in Devon's eyes. Her eyes were riveted to his frequent flier card. Marty slowly twirled it around. He had no idea on how she would respond, he could only hope she said yes ...