Texas Gal

by C. Sprite

       

Chapter Forty     Does That Price Include Fries?

Sterns and Jasper Printing in Richmond, Virginia occupied the ground floor of a building in an old industrial complex along the James River. The complex had definitely seen better days. Thick peeling paint seemed to be the defining characteristic of the brick buildings. When John, Bill, and I entered the cluttered old plant, only one press was running. It was producing a pamphlet that looked like it would be about forty pages once it was folded and saddle-stitched. The only operator in evidence saw us and pointed to a door in the far wall. It turned out to be the office.

"I'm looking for Mr. Sterns," I said to a woman who looked up from her newspaper when we entered. "I'm Darla Anne Drake."

The woman pointed to a door with an opaque glass panel in the top half without uttering a word, and returned to her newspaper. We walked to the door and knocked. An older man, with a large rotund shape and a ruddy complexion opened the door and stepped out of the way so we could enter.

"Miss Drake?" he said, as he closed the door behind us.

"Yes," I said. "Mr. Sterns?"

"Guilty. Please have a seat."

There was only one chair facing the desk so I sat down. John and Bill plopped onto an old, brown leather sofa with permanent depressions on each side.

"I won't waste your time, Mr. Sterns. We're here because I need a wire coil binding machine quickly. As I told you on the phone, the manufacturers say they can't deliver for two months. I'd rather not disappoint my customers if possible, but there's a limit to how much I'd be willing to pay just to get the machine. I have to weigh the cost of the business against the ill will that will be generated by failing to deliver the promised products."

"I understand, Miss Drake. And as I told you on the phone, I will only sell the business as a whole. If I start selling pieces off, I may not be able to find a buyer for the rest of it. And I would lose the goodwill that we've established with our regular customers."

"You've been trying to sell this business for two years, Mr. Sterns?"

"Yes."

"Maybe it's about time to take a different approach. I understand that some businesses actually fetch more when sold in pieces."

"Somehow, I don't think that would be the case with this business."

"May we see your wire coiling binding equipment?"

"Of course. Follow me."

Mr. Stern led the way out through the plant and into anther section. There was no activity there and it was quiet as a tomb.

"Here it is," he said, pointing to a machine that was about six feet high, four feet deep, and some thirty feet long with its conveyers set up.

"How fast is it?" I asked.

"It can do 1500 reports an hour."

"Is this your only machine?"

"My only wire coil machine. We can also do cold and hot glue perfect binding, case binding, saddle-stitching, side-stitching, and three-ring."

"And there's no way you'll sell just this machine?"

"None at all. It's all or nothing."

"And your price?"

"I'm asking seven hundred thousand."

"$700,000?"

"Yes."

"And there's no property involved?"

"No. We lease this space."

"So the buyer would also be obligated for the lease. How long is it?"

"We're in the fourth year of a twenty year lease. But the rate is quite good."

"I see," I said. I looked over at Bill. He shook his head almost imperceptivity.

"Well, thank you for your time," Mr. Sterns. "If you'll excuse us, we have a plane to catch."

"But what about my business?"

"I wish you all the luck in the world selling it."

"You aren't interested?"

"I'm not really in the market for a printing business, and certainly not one with $50 thousand dollars of equipment that carries a price tag of $700 thousand and a sixteen year lease."

"$50 thousand? It would cost you a million set up a printing business like this."

"Perhaps. But then you would be getting brand new equipment. Your presses look very old and tired, Mr. Sterns."

"But we have goodwill."

"I don't know how much goodwill you're carrying on your books, but it might be time to drop it altogether. From all appearances, your business has almost flat-lined. If you decide in the next week that you wish to sell your wire coil binding machine to raise a little needed capital, let me know. Good day."

I knew that I had been a bit harsh, and that Mr. Sterns was probably cursing my name and silently calling me a bitch at that very moment, but he needed a wake-up call. He was trying to get top dollar for a company that was barely worth bottom dollar.

We reached Columbia Metropolitan Airport in South Carolina a little before noon. As we stepped off the plane, we began sweating profusely. Fortunately, the arranged for limo was waiting with the A/C on high. I dreaded getting out as the driver wound his way through the city. I had grown up in Texas, and I was used to the heat, but I felt I could never get used to the summertime humidity of the Southeast states; especially in South Carolina and Georgia.

The printing plant, located just over the Broad River, was in a better building th a n the one where Sterns and Jasper were located. A little better I said. You don't really expect faltering businesses to look prosperous. The equipment was as tired looking as the equipment that Sterns had, but at least the owner, a Mr. Keenan, was more practical. He was only looking for a hundred thirty thousand. I told him that I would consider it and get back to him if I decided favorably. I hadn't seen any other employees in the entire plant. I wondered if they were at lunch, or if there were no other employees.

The limo driver, a heavy-set black man with a poor complexion, brought us to one of his favorite eateries on the way back to the plane, and I purchased enough fried chicken for Bill, John, myself, and the two pilots, with plans to eat lunch on the trip home. The food smelled delicious and I gave the driver a nice tip.

The chicken was delicious, and I would remember the place where we had stopped, in case I was ever in Columbia again. I was feeling a little depressed about my inability to purchase the needed equipment, and the food helped cheer me up a bit. We were somewhere over Pennsylvania when the co-pilot buzzed me on the cabin phone. He told me Nancy was calling. He put her through and I listened closely as she told me about making contact with the wife of one of the five people I had asked her to contact. The man had passed away last year, but he hadn't been able to find a buyer for the equipment. It was in storage if we were interested in any of it. The man's widow didn't have a list but she knew that the company had been able to make books with a wire spiral binding. We had already wasted half a day traveling to see equipment, and I figured a few more hours wouldn't hurt. I told Nancy to tell the woman we were coming to look at the equipment, and to make arrangements to have us met by a limo. Then I told Captain O'Toole to head for Madison, Wisconsin.

The limo was waiting when we arrived at Dane County Regional airport in Madison. The driver had the address and I hoped that he knew where he was going as he left the city and headed north. After about a half hour of driving on secondary roads, he pulled into a small farm. There was no building that looked like it had ever housed a printing plant, just a house and large barn. I began to fear that it had been another wasted trip. I could imagine a barn full of printing equipment, covered with manure, hay, rat dropping s , and roosting chickens.

Since we had traveled all this way, it didn't make sense to not at least apologize to the man's widow for getting her hopes up, so I approached the house while Bill and John remained in the car. They were as disgusted as I was with the wasted effort.

Mrs. Edger welcomed me warmly and invited me in. She appeared to be in her late sixties or early seventies and had a smile that lit up her whole face. She invited me to have a cup of tea, which I accepted, and then she brought over a small plate of freshly baked cookies. They were the most delicious cinnamon raisin cookies that I had ever eaten. We talked for about a half hour. She told me about her husband's business and about how he had been diagnosed with cancer several years ago. He had tried to sell the business but couldn't find any interested parties. After he died she'd hired a moving company to crate the equipment and bring it out to the farm so she could sell the building. She said that she probably should have sold it for scrap because it was just taking up space in her barn. She said that once she passed away, it would probably just be hauled off to the landfill anyway.

"After I spoke to that nice woman on the phone today I went through a few boxes of old papers. I found this," she said. She handed me a three ring binder containing a setup manual and a parts manual for a Lassiter 4515a-25 Wire Coil Binding Machine. "I knew that he had a machine to do that," she said, "because he had an account that gave him a big order every year. He always spent weeks and weeks getting that one order completed. And every year he said that someday he was going to get a bigger and better machine so that he could get it finished sooner, but then he started feeling ill and was diagnosed with leukemia."

I opened the book and looked at the specs. The Lassiter 4515a-25 could punch and bind up to 125 sheets plus covers at the rate of 25 books a minute or 1500 per hour. Doing a quick calculation in my head, I figured that with maximum use, the machine could do over two million notebooks in two months. It still left us short of the product we needed for orders, but it would get us a lot closer that we were right now. And if it worked well, we might be able to pull off my idea of sending partial orders in August with promises of more shortly.

"This is what I'm looking for, Mrs. Edger. Do you think that it's in your barn?"

"I don't know, dear. I suppose it should be. Why don't we go see if we can spot it?"

Together we walked to the barn. We tried to push the doors open, but they wouldn't budge.

"I haven't looked in here since the movers brought the equipment here," she said by way of apology. "I guess the rollers have rusted a bit."

I called to John and he got out of the car and walked towards us. Bill followed along behind him.

"We can't get this door opened," I said. "We need two strong men to come to our aid."

With John and Bill both straining, the door creaked and then rolled back. I had expected to walk into the barn, but enormous wooden crates were stacked from floor to roof within inches of the opening.

"Do you see anything that looks like what you're looking for, dear?" Mrs. Edger asked.

I assumed she was talking about the numbers on the sides of the crates. They made no sense to me at all. None indicated that a Lassiter 4515a-25 was sealed inside. At least there were no roosting chickens, hay, or manure in the barn; as far as I could see. The moving company had done an excellent job of crating everything up.

"I don't see anything that gives me an indication of what's in there. How far back do the crates go?"

"All the way," she said. "The barn was empty when they started filling it. I never dreamed that they'd need the whole thing. They didn't even leave me enough space for my car. I have to park it next to the house, and it sits outside all winter. I should have gotten rid of this stuff long ago."

"Well, if the binding machine is in there, I'm interested. How much are you asking?"

"Would forty thousand be too much?"

"Uh, that's a lot of money."

"Mr. Edger always took excellent care of his equipment. He had great pride in his business and his finished products. I'm sure you'll be satisfied with it."

I looked at John, who just shrugged his shoulders. Bill just stared at me blankly. He didn't know much about the equipment. I had brought him along to evaluate the books of any business I might have bought just to get their binding equipment. As Roy Blu had said to me when I bought Mo Paper: 'I'm strapped to a barrel and about to go over the falls.' We needed the binding equipment now if we were to have a chance of filling even partial orders.

"Okay, Mrs. Edger. You have a deal. I'll pay you forty thousand dollars."

"Wonderful," she said excitedly. "I'll be so glad to finally get all this stuff out of my barn. How soon can you have your movers here?"

"Uh, I suppose we can get somebody here tomorrow, and I can arrange for your payment to be made."

"Oh, there's no rush on that, dear. Mr. Edger was very frugal and he left me well fixed. You can pay me after you haul all this stuff away and make sure what you need is in there. I don't want to take your money if this stuff isn't going to do what you need it to do."

"Okay," I said.

"Wonderful. Would you like to have another cup of tea, dear?"

"Thank you, that would be nice, but I really have to be going. Perhaps another time?"

"You stop in any time you're in the area. I enjoyed our conversation. It gets so lonely out at times with Mr. Edger gone, even if he did spend so much time at the plant."

Bill and John pushed the doors closed again and we walked to the car. I said goodbye to Mrs. Edger and she waved to us as the car turned around and headed for the airport.

Once aboard the plane, John said, "Let me get this straight. You bought everything in that barn for forty thousand?"

"It appears that way. She set the price. Somewhere in that barn is supposed to be a Lassiter wire coil binding machine. It looks like a lot of stuff but we have no idea what we're getting, or even if the binding equipment is in there? I've been thinking. I was planning on having the binding equipment sent to Little Rock, but now I think I'll send all that stuff to the Evansville, Indiana plant instead. Bloomington is making the covers and this will be closer. We also have a lot more empty warehouse space at Evansville. We're going to need a lot of space to open these crates and sort everything out. We have no idea how the moving company packed that stuff. They might have dismantled everything first, putting it into one huge pile before they crated it up. We might have to open every crate to get all the pieces for one machine. John, I'll need you in Evansville as soon as possible. You'll have to prepare a work area and assemble a knowledgeable crew for this project. This has top priority now."

"Okay, DD. As soon as we get back I'll put a team together for the project. What about South-Core?"

"Forget South-Core. If the Lassiter is in that barn, it will be worth twenty of the machines that South-Core got with the South Shore deal. By August, the Lassiter can produce two million of the notebooks we need."

"If we can get it set up quickly."

"Yes," I said reaching for the phone. When Nancy answered I said, "Hi Nancy. Thank you for getting me that information. I purchased the equipment from the widow of the man who sent the offer. Is Bob Warren in?"

"Yes, Miss Drake. I'm glad that I was able to help. One moment, please."

While I waited for Bob to come on, I said to John, "The jet will bring you and your people out to Evansville as soon as you're ready in the morning."

"DD?" I heard Bob say in the receiver and turned my attention to him.

"Hi Bob. Good news. I think I found a binding machine that's capable of producing two million notebooks by August. We need to move it down to the Evansville plant from up near Madison, Wisconsin. I guess that's about 350 miles. We'll need some trucks. Fast. Tomorrow morning, if possible. We'll probably need a dozen semi's."

"A dozen semi's? What kind of binding equipment did you buy, DD?"

"I had to take the whole print shop. It's been crated up and sitting in a barn. We'll have to open every crate to find the equipment that we need."

"Okay, boss. A dozen semi's it is."

"And make sure they understand that they'll be moving very large and very heavy equipment crates, so they'll need some extra men for loading. Everything is well sealed so they can send open trailers. It'll make it easier to load. You should probably arrange for a small, truck mounted crane, or at the very least, one of those extra large tow trucks like they use to tow semi's, and some lifting straps."

"No problem. Anything else?"

"Not that I can think of right now. John's with me and he'll be heading up the effort to get the machine set up in Evansville. We'll have to get covers sent down to them right away so they're ready to start binding as soon as the machine is set up. If Evansville doesn't have the ability to print the double-sided ruled format, we'll have to send them the paper as well."

"They could certainly produce the paper, but I don't believe they have the printing equipment to create the double sided blue lines as it's cut into sheets. I'll have Little Rock send them a truckload. Anything else?"

"No that's it. Except we'll need forty thousand dollars at some point to pay for the stuff I just bought today."

"Just forty-thousand? For an entire print shop and a binder capable of producing two million notebooks by August?"

"That's only if we run the binder twenty-four hours a day. You'll have to get the Evansville plant manager to arrange for three shifts on the machine. If I understand the operation, we'll need probably a dozen people to assemble the notebooks prior to feeding them into the machine. Then we'll need two people to feed the machine, one to unload and stack the completed notebooks as they come off the conveyor, two to assemble the assortment packs from ten different piles, and two to wrap them in cellophane. And we'll need extra people to work while people are on break. I guess you should figure on about 26 for each shift."

"Okay, no problem, Anything else?"

"No, that's it."

"Want my news now?"

"Good or bad?"

"Bad."

I groaned. "Okay, lay it on me."

"You didn't come to the plant today."

"That's not so bad," I joked.

"So you didn't hear that the salespeople took orders for 600,000 more MoPacs yesterday."

"Oh, no."

"And with just an hour left today, the sales people have taken orders for almost 400,000 more."

"Stop already."

"That's what I wanted to do."

"You were right. I should have listened. I thought that the rush was over. How many notebooks have we sold in total?"

"Almost two million MoPacs. That's twenty million notebooks. Roughly one notebook for every three kids in school next year."

"Lord. And I've been congratulating myself that I had found a way to produce two million more notebooks by August. Okay, with both plants producing MoPacs, we now have the capability to produce almost three-hundred thousand for August. So we only have to find a way to produce 1.7 million more. Let's halt all sales of MoPacs calling for delivery before December. Get some people together from accounting and begin calling people who have placed orders. Tell the customers that the product has been so popular that we're unable to fill the orders by August. Give them the option of canceling their order, or of getting a partial order in August, with additional shipments to follow as soon as we can produce the MoPacs. Let's sweeten the deal by promising not to bill until they receive their full order."

"Okay, boss."

"It's crazy. We've been doing everything possible to increase sales, and now we're trying to slow them down."

"Only until we can get the equipment that we need to do the job. We'll be ready for next year."

"By next year they'll be a dozen imitators trying to cash in on our innovation. We have to meet the demand this year. If we succeed, purchasing managers will look for the Mo Paper catalog first when it comes times to order supplies. They'll want to have the products that the public is clamoring for."

"If we don't meet the demand this year, you'll just have to find us a new edge for next year."

"Easy to say…"

I didn't sleep very well Wednesday night. I had goofed big time by allowing our sales departments to continue taking orders, and it was up to me to find a solution. I tossed and turned as I wracked my brain for an inspiration. I certainly wasn't going to pay Sterns and Jasper $700,000 for their equipment, nor did I want to pay Keenan $130,000 for his. All I wanted was a few binding machines. Was that so much to ask?

I was tired as I entered the office in the morning. I did my best to appear cheerful, but I felt that I failed miserably. Nancy had made me a pot of tea and the caffeine helped wake me up. I sat on my couch and stared out at Vermont's clear blue sky while I continued to think about the problem.

I was on my third cup of tea when I had an epiphany. I suddenly realized that I was Darla Anne Drake. I mean, I knew all along what my name is, but I suddenly realized that I hadn't been using the name and reputation that Grandma had been trying to cultivate for me. I had just been schlepping along like your average Jane Doe instead of using my preeminent business position. My name could open doors that remained firmly locked to most people.

I went to my desk and lifted the phone receiver. Nancy was almost instantly on the line, asking me what I needed. I told her, then put the phone down and waited. Bob Warren had tried to get equipment from the manufacturers but I hadn't. People in the paper industry might have heard of Bob Warren, but it was practically guaranteed that anyone involved with paper products had heard of Darla Anne Drake. When the phone rang, Nancy told me that she had Herman Lassiter on the phone.

As I heard the click I said, in my best Texas drawl, "Mr. Lassiter, Good morning. This is Darla Anne Drake of Piermont Paper."

"Good morning, Miss Drake. It's an honor to speak with you. I've been reading of your exploits for years."

"I've had an interesting few years to be sure. Mr. Lassiter, I have a problem and I'm hoping you can help me."

"I'll do what I can, Miss Drake."

"Call me, DD— please."

"Very well. My friends call me Gilly."

"Gilly? My that's an interesting name."

"It dates back to my childhood. I used to spend so much time in the pool that people said I was going to grow gills. Ever since then I've been Gilly to my family and friends."

"That's nice. I just love that story, Gilly. All too often children get branded with unkind names, like Stinky or Fats."

"Yes, that's true. Well, what is it you think I can do to help you, DD?"

"I don't know if you've heard, but I bought Mo Paper this year."

"Yes, I did hear that. It almost doubled the size of your company, didn't it?"

"Yes. It boosted us by about 40 percent."

"That's a dramatic climb for a company that was already one of the top twenty paper companies in the U.S."

"Yes, we've had great success. And we're about the knock the school supply world on its ear."

"Really? How do you intend to do that?"

"We have developed a line of notebooks that kids are going crazy for. During the past three work days, we've taken orders for over twenty million notebooks."

"Twenty million? My word, that's impressive."

"You bet. The new MoPac is so popular that we've been forced to start refusing orders today. It seems that we can't produce enough to satisfy demand."

"That's a shame. I know that no company ever enjoys turning away customers."

"That's true. That surprised me about your company, also."

"My company?"

"Yes. My executive VP, Bob Warren, tried to order some equipment but he was turned away. He was told you couldn't possibly deliver it for six months to a year. We've had to turn to a competitor who can deliver much sooner. It's a shame because I would much rather have your equipment. We have two of your machines and they are first rate."

"Really? Which machines do you have?"

They're both model 4515a-25."

"4515? We ended production on them eight years ago."

"Which just goes to show you how well they're made. After a decade of punishing use, they're still going strong. I can't say enough good things about them."

"That's very kind."

"I just wish that we could have stayed with your company. When you find a product that you like, really like, it's difficult to switch."

"I wish I could help you, DD. I hate to lose a good customer."

"I would love to stay with your binding products exclusively, Gilly. Is there anything you can do to improve the delivery time?"

"Which machine did you want?"

"I'm not familiar with your current lineup. I only know the 4515. What machine can deliver wire coil product at the fastest rate?"

"The top producer in that group now is the 6130. It came out four years ago and proved so popular that we retired the entire 4500 line. It can deliver 3000 punched and bound books per hour; 50 per minute. The binders zip through so fast the operators can barely keep the product hoppers filled. You don't have to preassemble the binders anymore, like you did with the 4500s. You just put the front covers in one hopper, the back covers in another, and the paper in a third. Dial in how many sheets of paper you want included in each binder, and hit the button. The machine does the rest. It can punch up to 125 sheets and covers for each binder."

I was writing the numbers down and calculating as he spoke. Running at full bore, a single 6130 could produce more than 4 million notebooks by the needed delivery date in August.

"That's probably the one that Bob tried to get then."

"Uh, I'm sure that I can get you a machine, DD. I'd hate to lose such a good customer and new friend."

"Could you, Gilly? That would be absolutely wonderful. It could only be more wonderful if you could get us several machines."

"Several?"

"Well, actually we could use twenty, right away?"

"Twenty?"

"Well, I do have thirty-two paper plants, two forms printing plants, and about a thousand square miles of commercial forest land, not to mention my saw mills and cardboard plants. I just purchased a complete publishing plant, and I'm looking for the right location to build a two-million square foot printing facility."

"You own a thousand square miles of land?"

"Well, it's just a tiny drop in the bucket compared to Grandmother's Ameri-Moore land holdings in the U.S. and overseas, but it's nice to have a few acres of my own."

"And you're planning to build a two million square feet printing facility?"

I let a little more drawl creep into my voice. "I'm from Texas, Gilly. We never do anything small."

"So I see."

"So do you think you can let me have twenty machines by this weekend, Sugah?"

"This weekend? Uh, I-I-I don't think so. Most of our output is already promised."

"Well, how many can you have ready by Friday?"

"Uh, maybe— three?"

"Couldn't you make that five, Sugah. I would be eternally grateful."

"Five? I'd have to delay delivery to other customers in order to do that."

"Oh, would you, Sugah? Thank you so much. That's so wonderful of you. You know what, I want you to come to our Barbeque at the ranch in August. It's just a small party. Maybe two or three hundred of our closest friends. I'm going to make sure that you're on the invite list."

"Uh, thank you."

"Don't thank me, Sugah, I enjoy hanging out with my good friends. Listen Gilly, I'll have my Executive VP, his name is Bob Warren, call your Executive VP later this morning to make arrangements for picking up those ten machines this Friday. I really appreciate…"

"No, no, DD," he cut in. "Not ten."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just got so excited that I forgot. It's five 6130's this Friday and the rest next Friday."

"No, I can't, DD. I can only let you have five right now."

"How soon can we get the rest? Two weeks?"

"Uh, that's too soon. I have other customers to serve also."

"Okay, Gilly. I'll be patient and wait thirty days to get the second five machines. But I can't wait any longer than that. I need them to fill my orders so we're not disappointing all those poor school children. And you know what? Every time I get interviewed by the press because of this new product line, I'm going to tell them that we couldn't have knocked the school supply business on its ear if it hadn't been for my wonderful friends at Lassiter. You have just been too wonderful for words, Gilly, and I'm going to make sure that everyone knows of my undying loyalty to your equipment."

"Uh, that's very nice, DD."

"Okay, Sugah. I'm so excited that I'm going to tell Bob right now. You have a great week and I'll see you in August, yah hear. Bye, bye, Gilly."

"Uh, bye, bye, DD."

I stifled a laugh as I hung up the phone. I had really laid it on extra thick. I had developed a slight Texas accent since moving to Texas from New Jersey, but when it suited me I could sound like a native born Texican. I had used that voice with Gilly, talking fast and furious while throwing numbers and facts at him to keep him off balance during the entire conversation. I wasn't proud of taking advantage of him, but I had gotten sort of a commitment for five machine now, and five more in thirty days. I was sure that Auntie wouldn't mind me inviting someone to the Barbeque she was planning for her oil business associates. I wasn't even sure that Gilly Lassiter would show up.

I called Bob right way and asked him to come over. I wanted to firm up the deal before Herman Lassiter had time to think too long about how I had maneuvered him.

"What's up, boss," Bob said as he entered my office.

"I've been working on the binding problem. I'd like you give Lassiter Equipment a call and make arrangements to purchase some of their wire coil binding machines."

"No good," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I contacted them on Friday. They told me that their entire production for the next eight months is already allocated to customers."

"Don't talk to the sales department. Ask for the Executive VP. He should be expecting your call by now. You'll need to make arrangements for accepting five of their 6130 models by this Friday, with an additional five in thirty days."

"Five now and five more in thirty days? My lord, just how did you swing that?"

"I just called my good old friend Gilly."

"Gilly?"

"Herman Lassiter, the president and CEO of Lassiter Equipment."

"I didn't know that you knew him."

"I didn't, until ten minutes ago."

Bob looked at me with a strange expression that slowly turned into a grin over several seconds. "I love working for you, DD. You constantly amaze me."

"And I love having you here, Bob. You support my crazy ideas and keep this place running on an even keel. With you here it functions like a business should. Now, go call Lassiter while Gilly is still dazed and reeling from my addlebrained phone call. We need to firm up his verbal commitment. Don't take no for an answer."

As Bob turned to leave, I added, "After you get their commitment, tell our people to stop telling customers we can't deliver by August. We'll be able to ship all the product ordered, on the dates they want it."

He grinned at me again as he pulled the door closed behind him. I took a deep breath, smiled, and walked to my couch. I only intended to relax for a while, but instead fell into a deep sleep. With the burden of meeting our promised delivery dates lifted from my mind, the night of sleeplessness caught up with me.

(continued)

  

  

  

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