Kansas City, Missouri

A short jaunt down I-40 West from St. Louis leads to Kansas City. The town is a real "diamond in the rough" as far as a sales territory goes. Kansas City has great barbecue and steakhouses, blues and jazz clubs, the Plaza, Hallmark, and riverboat casinos. The city is a small version of Chicago without Lake Michigan and the traffic. The people radiate a true Midwestern geniality of both urban and rural life. This is the heart of America..

The principal client in Kansas City was a gregarious, gruff man by the name of Larry. When traveling to Kansas City I would set up a date with Larry and everything else would revolve around that appointment. The sales call usually consisted of seeing Larry late in the afternoon at the plant. The meeting would then move to Larry's favorite drinking establishment, "King Tut's Tavern". Once the meeting was moved to the tavern, a blend of characters would congregate. The patronage of the pub was a peculiar mixture of Andy of Mayberry meets The Sopranos. Everyone came equipped with a favorite Larry story to recite. I had heard these stories a million times but it didn't matter. The scene reminded me of a Midwestern version of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Larry reveled in the ludicrous tales and this is how he held court. Larry was truly the King Tut of Kansas City.

The sales calls were great fun but presented a series of problems. The drinks and stories would extend into the wee hours of the morning and very few were sober enough to drive when the evening was over. Some members of the group would think they were sober enough to drive and would offer me a ride home-"drunks driving drunks." I avoided the situation altogether by taking a cab back to the hotel, even though I had followed my boss's advice and armed myself with a Lincoln Town Car. Something told me if the car went into the Missouri River I would be shit out of luck.

Every time I arranged a trip to Kansas City someone from corporate would call to offer technical assistance at my accounts. Word was out that Kansas City was a good party place and the insiders were always looking for a way to escape. I preferred to work alone but at times I would acquiesce in order to show some type of conformity.

Charlie, from our dye division, wanted to make sales calls in Kansas City. I agreed to spend a few days with him even though I detested him.

I met Charlie at the Kansas City airport. Despite my advice, I found him dressed to the max in an Armani suit. I had told him specifically to tone it down because the people we called on were hard-working people who generally spent the day covered in pigments and dye. Charlie's arrogance knew no bounds, so I would have to cover for him.

After Charlie had insulted just about everyone in town, I figured that it would be a good time for him to meet Larry. When we walked into Larry's office, Charlie was wearing a pink tie that complimented his suit. Larry looked at me and rolled his eyes. "Who the fuck is this guy?"

"Larry, this is Charlie, from our dye division," I said.

"Doesn't he know he is in Kansas City?"

"He does, but he doesn't get it."

"Tell him he can get his ass kicked around here for dressing like that." Charlie immediately jumped in, "Larry, nice to meet you. I've heard a lot of good things about you."

"Cut the shit. What can I do for you guys? I'm getting thirsty."

"What is your dye consumption," Charlie asked.
"Zero; let's go have a drink."

The meeting quickly swung to King Tut's Tavern on Main Street and the party was on. Once again, Larry held court and the stories began. The later the evening went, the more outrageous the tales became. Charlie was a ticking time bomb and I was waiting for an explosion. I knew that it was only a matter of time before he insulted Larry. After Charlie hit on all the women in the bar, including the wives of some of the regulars, he sat down at Larry's table. While someone recited a drunken yarn about the time he had put his car though the plate glass windows of a grocery store, Charlie rudely interrupted, "Don't you think I kind of look like Paul Newman?" I was horrified. I knew he might pull it this shit because I had heard it before, but this was the wrong time. Everyone at the table was stupefied. There was a long intense silence, and then Larry responded.

"Yes Charlie, you do kind of look like Paul Newman."

Another long silence.

"You kind of look-just like his ass!"

The palace erupted into pandemonium, and once again King Tut ruled Kansas City.

(excerpt from "Sales Tales")