Reporter: “So, how did it start?”
Ven: “A scale and a bunch of frozen burritos, just small timing it. I worked from the ground up, just like every other small business, the American dream. The difference is I did what no one else was willing to do, delivery.”
Reporter: “Lets put that on hold for a minute. Tell us about the “Hot Coffee” incident.”
Ven: “Hhm. Okay. I was sitting in my office one morning eating my breakfast, a bagel, and reading the Newspaper. The world hadn't gotten any less terrible since yesterday. I was waiting on a client, when another one busts through the front door, Dale. He made a beeline for me and threw a gun in my face. His was very red and angry. “You made me fat!” Dale shouted “All of your stupid carbs and calories, I never should have trusted you!” Dale hated me. All of my clients did, not because I was mean to them in any way, but because they hated themselves. I had what they all wanted, but none of them possessed, self control. It had been different in earlier times. At my peak, I was sixty some odd pounds overweight. I never took up two airplane seats, or had rolls, or had to wait for my own elevator, all plights of most of my customers, but I loved the decadence of the greasy sugary treats I served. After awhile I couldn't keep something my father had said out of my head “You can't measure yourself by the people your around, or you'll become one of them.” My clients thought that they had made that leap. They thought that they had stopped measuring themselves against society, when in reality they had just stopped measuring themselves. And I measured myself against them. That had all changed a few years back, I stopped dipping my finger into the pot and took control.
I looked to my left and to my right. Dale had marched in ignoring his most keen sense, it would save me. Dale followed my eyes and looked around at the long tables full of different desserts, interrupting his enraged thinking. “Dale, what have you got on your pants?” I asked “Huh? Oh. I spilled hot coffee in my lap.” His words were slurring. “Dale, your slurring your words. Have you eaten? Your blood sugar is low. Come with me.” I walked straight back from the chair I had been sitting in, and as I walked I talked. “I am really sorry about your trouble. Let me make it up to you. Stay here.” I stopped at the vault door opened it and walked in, Dale turned and looked back at the table full of desserts. I came back out with a funnel cake in one hand and a soft drink in the other. “Dale. This is for you, on the house.” I said. Dale looked at me, opening and closing his dry mouth. “Don't make me shove it down your throat. I don't want to have you passing out on my floor.” Dale holstered the gun that had hung limply by his side into his waistband. He took the funnel cake and the soft drink, and turned and walked away. I could have just as easily put a bullet into his head, but the funnel cake would do the job for me in time and without any strings. On his way out Dale passed my next client coming in. “I hope I'm not too early” the man said glancing back at the now closing door. “No, right on time. That was just a little customer appreciation.” I said. “I like a man who knows his business” he replied. “Then you've come to the right place. Please, have a seat.” He wore a three piece suit that was blue with pinstripes, his button up shirt was white, and his tie was red. Change a few colors and the quality of the fabric and his suit would be a carbon copy of mine. He took off his jacket and laid it on the bench end nearest my chair and we both had a seat.
I started in “Mr. Eckard is it?” “Yes” he answered. “Let's cut out some conversation and get down to business. A man of your means, and waistline, did not get where you're sitting now without considerable thought and effort. Why are we talking?” Eckard pursed his lips and stared at me intently. “Fine. What do your customers need that your not giving them?” he asked. “A tailor and a libido” I answered. He snorted and smiled lightly. He grabbed something out of his jacket. It was a business card for Eckard Solutions, a publicly traded pharmaceutical company that had a product on every shelf. “Your a drug rep?” I asked. He forced a laugh. “As much as you are a honeyslinger, Mr. Ven.” he replied. “Surely you can see the brilliance in us having a partnership.”
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