The 2084 Precept (31 page)

Read The 2084 Precept Online

Authors: Anthony D. Thompson

Tags: #philosophical mystery

BOOK: The 2084 Precept
11.74Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Joe introduced me to them and I handed each
of them a card, took theirs in return. One of them was their sales
director, Michael Crawford, one of those guys who have no heads,
they are connected to their torsos by necks wider than your average
oak tree, makes them look like a single, solid block of flesh. The
other guy was a finance manager, David Price, a thin-faced guy with
a long beak of a nose, presumably the underdog today. Both smiling
and pleasant, however. And so they should be, we are the
customer.

I explained how satisfied we were with our
business relationship, how we intended to continue the partnership
long-term, blah, blah, blah. I asked them how
they
found the
relationship.

"Fantastic," said the block of flesh,
"excellent." A sales guy, this Michael, what else was he going to
say?

"We need your cooperation," I said. "Times
are hard, our profits are gone, we have to achieve savings. The
savings we need to achieve on raw materials purchases have been
calculated at 10.2%. This is the result of an in-depth analysis and
has been mandated by our general manager. This is the task that Joe
and I here have been given. That is the situation in a nutshell and
we would be grateful if you would provide us with any comments you
may have on that please."

Michael began to waffle about restricted
margins, difficult market situations, rising costs, 10% is
unfeasible, and all the rest of it. When he finally stopped, I said
nothing, I just stared at him. Not nastily, not provocatively…but
with that piercing look for which I am renowned, or would be if
there were any piercing-look championships. Silence is a powerful
weapon, no doubt about it, it embarrasses the other party, it makes
them feel nervous, it makes them feel obligated to say something,
the void must somehow be filled.

"I think," said Michael with a sideways
glance at his colleague, "that we could possibly go to 5%. A big
stretch for us, but I think we would be prepared to make that
sacrifice to demonstrate how we have valued your custom over the
years and how we continue to value it."

"Michael, I repeat that we are
not
threatening to switch some or all of our orders to one of your
competitors." Ha, but that is exactly what we
are
threatening; maybe he suspects that or maybe he doesn't. "I
repeat," I continued, "that we are very pleased to have you as our
supplier. You provide us with good quality, you meet your delivery
deadlines and our relationship is overall a very satisfactory one.
We are most definitely
not
saying give us 10% or we won't
order, and I would not want there to be any misunderstanding on
that point. Please."

He and his partner David looked relieved to
hear this. They didn't think they were showing it, but their body
language, the cursory relaxing of the posture, the slight easing
back in the chair, the faint but noticeable slackening of the
muscles around the mouth, these all are signs to which I am well
attuned. And that of course is my aim, to have them thinking that
although we are going through tough times, we are civilized and
agreeable people, not given to unpleasant or menacing discussions,
compromises are the rule of thumb. We and they are all just a bunch
of great fellows, chewing the fat over the table in a courteous and
harmonious manner. Yeah, right.

"Well, Peter, I understand perfectly and I
wouldn't have interpreted otherwise. But even so, I think I can
still say that we are prepared to cooperate with 5%. Our two
companies are, after all, in a form of partnership, and in a
partnership there has to be some give and take on both sides. And,
in view of your request, I think that this is one of those
occasions when we, as your supplier, have to give. As I have said,
it won't be easy for us to do, but we would like to show that we
are prepared to cooperate."

"Michael, thank you, I appreciate that.
However, this certainly makes things difficult for Joe and myself.
As you know, we have invited all of our suppliers to visit us, one
on one, and we are expecting to achieve the 10.2% target we've been
given by our boss. This applies particularly to our longer term
partners. Now…we're a very good customer of yours, as you know, and
we always pay. Not only that, but we always pay on time, not
something to be taken for granted in these unaccommodating times.
In fact, I am sure you would love to have thousands of customers
just like ourselves. Your profits would simply pour in—regular
orders, no cash flow difficulties, no bad debts and absolutely
nothing else to worry about. The problem you are giving us,
Michael, is that 5% from you means that Joe and I would have to
obtain 15% from someone else with the same transaction volumes. And
15%, as I am sure you agree, would probably be unattainable."

No way does he want to lose a customer such
as Clark's. It wouldn't do him any good back at the ranch. On top
of that it wouldn't help him reach his sales target for this year—a
major risk to his annual bonus, if he gets one.

"I understand that," said Michael, nodding
his head. Or trying to, his head couldn't move much on that neck of
his.

"We may not be your biggest customer,
Michael," I continued, "but, as you know, we are not a small one
either and we order faithfully and regularly, year after year, we
pay, and I am sure you count us as one of your best customers. And
now we are asking you and your company for help."

I stopped, I looked at him and I let the
silence roll again.

He looked back at me, and then he looked at
his colleague and then he said, "This is very difficult for us. I
would like to discuss this outside with Dave if you wouldn't mind.
Would you kindly excuse us for a moment? We'll be back in five
minutes."

"Absolutely no problem," I said and glanced
at Joe, who smiled and said, "no hurry, please take as long as you
need."

They stood up and left and I looked out of
the window and saw them appear around the corner of the building.
Michael was chattering away on his mobile; David was messing around
with his, whisking to the right and whisking to the left as they
do.

I turned to Joe. "Well, Joe, how do you
think it's going?"

"Interesting for me, Peter. Interesting to
see how you go about it." He had a crafty smile on his face. "The
nebulous understanding that we will continue to buy from them even
if they give us nothing, which I don't think they believe but they
daren't say so of course, is a good ploy. And the direct request
for help shows honesty and makes it clear that we are requesting
and not demanding. Mentioning the other supplier visits makes them
think about how they will compare. And telling them our target is
10% instead of 8% is also a good device."

"Well, Joe, it's just one way to do it. We
all have our own methods and this is not necessarily the best one.
You may have a different style which is as good as or better than
mine. In any case, depending on the different suppliers' reactions,
you sometimes have to change tack in the middle of it all. Press
harder or start backpedalling, as the case may be."

We were pouring ourselves more coffee when
Michael and his sidekick came back into the room. They sat down,
and put on their thoughtful looks.

"Joe, Peter, we have decided we can go to
8%. We can't do the 10%, no way. And this arrangement would need to
be subject to re-discussion in one year's time. That would be a
condition. I hope you understand."

Re-discuss in a year's time? But of course,
old chap. Re-discussing has never hurt anybody, particularly when
it’s the only thing you are committing to.

I put on a serious, worried look. I allowed
myself to look fairly troubled. I looked at Joe. He had also
adopted a harassed expression. But we'd made our target on this one
and it was pretty clear that we weren't going to be able to get a
penny more. So we were both happy enough little fellows.

I let the silence stand for maybe thirty
seconds and then I put on my 'courage in the face of adversity'
tone.

"Very well, Michael, David. It seems
reasonably clear that we will have to run with that in this case.
As I have already said, you continue to be a greatly valued
business partner and we intend to continue our commercial
relationships as before, no change, no change at all.”

“Joe and I,” I continued, “would like to
thank you both very much for finding the time to visit us today,
and for your efforts to assist us. We appreciate it very much. And
now, if there are any other matters from your end that you would
like to discuss, please fire away."

There were a couple of other subjects,
product details, and Joe dealt with them easily, he has the
technical expertise. And then they were gone, we were all still
friends. That was an easy one, I thought to myself.

* * * * *

Joe and I had a quick meal in the factory
canteen. I politely listened to a mountain of trivial details
concerning the uninteresting activities of his developing
offspring. It reminded me to sincerely savor my status as an
unfettered single male, one unhampered by the incarcerating
restrictions of those who have gone down the reproduction
route.

The second meeting was at one o'clock and
was a very different kettle of fish—weird expression, who puts fish
in a kettle—when compared to the one this morning. There were three
of them and they were all boring. So boring, in fact, as to not
only be dull themselves, but to be the cause of dullness in others.
You have met the type, I’m sure. And they offered only 2% and they
wouldn't budge an inch from that. So I said cheerio, we shook hands
with them all, and it felt like grasping three dead fish before
they had had time to stiffen.

"Joe," I said after they had left, "you know
what we are going to do with this lot?"

"Not really," he said, "you were rattling
away again about continuing the long-term relationship,
irrespective of pricing."

"Quite right. And we
will
continue to
carry on a long-term relationship with them. We will talk to them
on the phone a couple of times a year. But we won't be ordering
anything for a while, we will be buying from one of their
competitors. And as a new customer we probably won't have any
difficulty in negotiating a lower price. But even if we can't,
we'll buy from the competitor anyway. I don't like doing
that—according to your summary here we've been getting top quality
and faultless delivery performance from the current guys, and you
can never tell how a new supplier is going to work out. If there
are
problems, the cheaper price just wouldn't be worth it.
But we're going to go ahead and do it anyway."

"Right you are," said good old Joe. What an
agreeable guy he is.

"What will happen, Joe," I said, "is that
today's guys will contact you in a month or two, asking why we're
not ordering. You will just tell them that we're overstocked at the
moment, tell them our sales are down on the products we use their
materials for, tell them our customers are indicating our products
are too expensive and they're asking for lower prices. Whatever,
just make them sweat a bit. Do not, of course, tell them we've
stopped buying from them because they wouldn't give us what we
wanted. I'll make a bet with you, Joe, that they come along after
another couple of months with a 5% offer. And when that happens, we
will merely politely repeat our 10% target requirement. And when
they eventually offer us 8%, we will, with a mixture of fortitude
and resignation, yield. And thank them very much for their
cooperation. O.K.? Of course it might not work, Joe. I might lose
my bet. Time, as time is wont to do, will provide us with the
answer."

I went back with Joe to his office and he
gave me the four supplier details for tomorrow's sessions. The
first one is at nine o'clock. Before leaving, I dropped in to see
Fred. He had just finished his meeting with the works council and
they intended organizing a workforce assembly for the Friday
afternoon. "Unpleasant times, Peter," he said. "Just think of the
gains," I replied, "and what a hero you're going to be next year.
Roger will give you a knighthood."

There was no blue Nissan parked in the road
and, so far as I could tell, there were no blue Nissans or Nissans
of any kind following me on my way back into London. I went up to
my room and checked my messages. Nothing. This was really bad news.
I didn't understand it. I would have to send her a message. But
what kind of a message? Whatever had happened between us, we still
hadn't known each other for a full twenty four hours. A
lighthearted message would be best perhaps. I typed it out and sent
it.

Darling Céline, please let me know when
you are arriving in London. I really am not as weird as that poem I
sent you. Please bring it with you and I will tear it up, then I
will shred it and then I will set fire to it and then I will throw
the ashes into the River Thames. I am missing you very badly.
Please email or call. Your Peter.
Yes, I know, overblown
drivel, and impossible for me to be 'Your Peter', no further
comment.

It was still afternoon. I thought I would
trot along to the 'En Passant' and play some blitz. I was not in
the mood to enjoy the good weather, Céline was weighing on my mind.
And a major side-benefit of chess is that it takes your mind off
other things. The need to concentrate does it, no problem at
all.

I decided to walk it, too much sitting on my
ass in offices and in the car. Little Miss Ugly was at the desk
again today. She was wearing a dark blouse which was more than
successful in showing her breasts to be of a higher standard than
her face, poor girl. I gave her another intense O'Donoghue smile
and a friendly wave, and made her day again. I lit up a cigarette,
took off down the street and turned the corner into Piccadilly. And
there he was. The morose-looking bastard, peering interestedly into
the window of a clothing shop. Not that this kind of guy could
afford Piccadilly prices judging by the look of him, but I guess
window-shopping is as plausible an activity as any other if your
prey is not aware of you. Or if you think he isn't.

Other books

Chosen by Nina Croft
Riverboat Point by Tricia Stringer
Suspicion of Guilt by Tracey V. Bateman
Six Sagas of Adventure by Ben Waggoner (trans)
The Wall by H. G. Adler
2042: The Great Cataclysm by Melisande Mason
Funeral By The Sea by George G. Gilman
Nightfall by Laura Griffin