Luck of the Draw

Chapter 2 - The Scapegoat

Forty-four essentially unremarkable years of age spent idling on the largesse of a wealthy father, and finally outliving that generosity, Teddy was conscripted into NaturGro's employ. To no one's surprise, with the firm hand of his father at the tiller, Teddy's first year found him a member of the company's sales force where he managed to gross a dismal four thousand dollars.

It was a less than sterling production for any novice but particularly one with a father who unremittingly badgered contacts for their support. One councilman, responsible for the city's annual budget for street flora— hanging baskets and curbside planters—on Playford senior's recommendation, handed the account to the first person through the door—Teddy—and fled the city for a two-month holiday.

Subsequent years saw his sales abilities fade faster than a cheap photocopy. To save the company from embarrassment, he was singled out for routes that took him through farming communities and retirement parks consisting of double wide trailers, whose owners satisfied themselves with pansies and lily-of-the-valley in cutesy window boxes.

He was sent to almost any area where the climate wasn't suitable for growth of any kind. Only the blinding fact that his father was head of the corporation's shareholders kept Teddy on the payroll. Teddy couldn't sell tickets to the last seat on a lifeboat.

When Glen Springs had suddenly materialized as the testing ground for their new line, and he was given the nod, Teddy had latched onto it like a starving leech. Armed with his catalogues, price lists and samples he nearly kissed Barclay on his way out the door to what he viewed as his renaissance. Nothing would deter him; this would be his entry to the centre ring. NaturGro would be looking at sales material suitable for a seat at the management table.

Teddy dreamed large.

!!!!!

Ten-thirty in the morning and here he was about to drive to the town with a population of twenty odd thousand, about four hours from the home base of his employer. Teddy's goal was to turn the small town into a NaturGro product, dependent. He was ready to win them over with what he considered his boyish looks, and a modicum of charm that somewhat disguised a vacuous personality of which he was woefully unaware.

With a briefcase stuffed full of notes, samples and sales brochures, he was ready to conquer the suburbs.

The research provided showed one garden centre served the entire town. A small, privately owned business with the conventional inventory of seeds, small shrubs, annuals and perennials along with assorted fertilizers, mulches, potting soils and plant food. This was his target.

Teddy's boss had emphasized the need to gain a foothold here and to do so quickly—in time for the Christmas tree season. NaturGro had a farm of trees ready for harvest and shipment.

He loaded his suitcase in the car, tossed his briefcase on the seat beside him and slipped behind the wheel. The engine roared to life and the eight speaker sound system provided the throbbing, drumming noise of a NASCAR race start.

The standard Chevy blew down the highway to the radio's thrumming beat of the Sopranos' theme and Teddy's wretched vocal accompaniment, both loud enough to melt the light blanket of snow on the surrounding fields.

Back in his office, Barclay Hanover marked a large 'X' through the town's name on his territory map.

!!!!!

Mickey Schafer was a bland guy with a bland life. To look at Mickey, one might think immediately of the guy stocking shelves in the local grocery store, or perhaps renting out movies at a Blockbuster counter. Average looking. Average weight and height, and currently at the average age of thirty-five.