The Fast Rising Billionaire

Sales Management

Christopher straightened his black tie and brushed his hands over his suit, before pushing open the door to the business director's office. He was one of the sales representatives of the Philly group, where he worked, and he was in a hurry to make his meeting. 

“How many times have I told you," snapped an annoyed voice from inside the office, “knock on my door before you come in? Is it really that hard to remember?”

A smile taking over his face, Christopher smiled at his wife, his cheeks puffing up with amusement, “Laura, my wife, can you stop reminding me of the rules?” 

As she frowned, the smile on his face turned bitter, until it was gone completely. He had expected her to scold him, but nevertheless, the  look on her face hurt his feelings, made him a little sad. 

Glaring at her husband, Laura, his wife, said, “you know, just because I am your wife, I have tried to cut you some slack. You have been working here for three months, haven't you?” she asked, easing a brow in disapproval. 

“Have you even tried to get your name out there? How many properties have you even sold in all of your time here?” 

Shuffling his feet uncomfortably, Christopher tried to hide his shame, putting his arms behind his back. Remaining silent, he fixed his gaze on the ground, refusing to meet her gaze.

“Nothing!” she answered by herself, “you haven't brought in even a single customer. What have you even been doing?” she asked, piercing him with her gaze, “Just sitting around like you do at home. It's even worse, because with the current housing market trends, even a fool would be better at this than you!”

Noting that her scolding was merely getting louder, Christopher turned around and shut the door firmly. At the very least, he could keep everyone else from hearing the shameful things she had to say about him. 

He was confident that she was about to fire him, and he would like to retain his dignity, thank you very much. 

Noting that he had shut the door out of shame, his wife let out a bitter laugh, “why do you bother shutting the door?” she asked him, ”it's not like everyone doesn't know how great a joke you are.” 

Disgusted, she shook her head. “I was really blind when I married you, huh?” 

Hearing those words, Christopher's face fell even further. His heart was aching, especially since they had both been college sweethearts.

They had known each other since Laura was the top of their class in the university. 

She had always been beautiful, had always left him in awe, so at any point, she could have had her choice of suitors,  but she had chosen him. 

He had–bolstered with confidence from her support–started a business, and taken her money as an investment after they graduated. He had big dreams for himself in the business world, and was sure they would come to pass. 

But time had not been so kind to him, and his business had failed, leaving him devastated and with a lot of heartache. The business never recovered from the failure, and neither did he, staying home and taking care of the household. 

He had given up on his dreams of business, filled with despair, and for three years, he had worked at keeping the house until Laura's family could no longer take it. 

They had given Christopher an ultimatum to find himself a job with a salary of at least ten thousand dollars a month. 

Seeing as they lived in the rural town of San Clemente, California, there were not that many jobs that could offer him that payment. It was Laura that had swallowed her pride and offered her husband a job in the sales department at the desk estate company where she was the business director.

That was where they were now, and as he stood in front of his wife, Christopher could tell that she regretted the decision. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, and at first he refused to speak, glancing at her uncomfortably. 

He felt helpless, face filled with despair when he begged her, unwilling to lose another job again. “It's not like I don't want to work hard. It's the sales manager! He always steals my customers, so I end up without anything to show.” 

“‘The sales manager hates me!”

 She imitated his voice. “’The sales manager hates me!.

She let out a heavy sigh, frustration evident on her face.

Looking up at him she said, “Christopher, how many times have I told you that you need to learn to be objective? For once, try to take some initiative, or some responsibility. You cannot say that, when it's your lack of charisma that drives them away!” 

Sighing, he agreed with her, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “I'll try harder, I promise,” he pleaded. “You know that I try, things are just a little tougher now with-”

Glaring at him, Laura passed him a piece of paper with two phone numbers written on it. Taking a look at the paper and then back at her, he raised a brow. “I don't believe it,” he said. “What is this?”

“Would you rather I let you lose your job?” asked Laura, coldly pushing his hand away. “Look, Christopher, I'm trying to help you. Again. I have already talked to both of these clients,” she said, jutting out her chin at the paper.

“All you need to do is contact them with that air of desperation that floats around you, and you should get them on.” As she looked back at her work and dismissed him, Christopher felt a tad embarrassed, yet grateful. She had always had a quick tongue and kind heart. 

Picking up the piece of paper from her desk, he stepped out of the office to make the call on the office phone

 and heard laughter begin to bubble from the otherwise quiet sales department. 

Picking up a cloth, one of the salespersons, David Dane began to wipe down a desk, running over and shoving the cloth into Christopher's hand. “Mr. Robbins,” he cooed mockingly, “come on, hurry up, you're so good at housework, please hurry!” 

When Christopher ignored him and kept on moving, David walked over and poked at him with his elbow, “the Mrs. makes enough money to support you just fine–why are you using the company 's phone? Maybe you should just get back to cooking and cleaning.”

Pushing against Christopher's chest, David repeated his earlier statement, “You're dead weight to this department, just scram! Why are you using the company's phone?”  

Walking towards the pair, one of the higher up salespersons pushed David off Christopher. He acted as a spy for the manager, and had taken customers away from Christopher many times. 

“Stop it, David.” 

“Ouch!” complained David, “Come on Rowan, why don't you push him instead? All you have to do is hit him and he'll leave.”

His features darkening, David took a step closer. 

Glaring at both Rowan and David, Christopher took his leave. To his back, Rowan muttered, “that piece of trash is really giving the department a bad name. No wonder the phone bills are usually so high.” 

Just as he was about to ring the first number, a large middle-aged man came over to stand beside his desk. Looking up, Christopher met the condescending gaze of his manager, Atis Walker. 

“Who gave you permission to use the company's cell on personal time?” asked Atis, irritation marring his features. 

Gulping, he set the phone down, ashamed. He was aware that nobody should be using the phone for personal use. Was this finally the straw that would get him fired?