Taking Care of the Customer

There's an old rule about not sending a boy to do a man's job. Yeah, I know that's chauvinistic and certainly not PC, but sometimes the old guy has to get up from behind the desk and go fix things.

I'm the SVP of operations for a good-sized logistics company. I worked my way up from loading airplanes to running a warehouse to running regional centers and now the whole operations show. And I did it by taking care of the customers, and then hiring people who could do the same. But every now and then you run into someone who is just a pain, and these days you can't afford to lose customers.

So, after the Account Rep, the Senior Account Rep and the Account Team Manager had been to see the COO for a big computer parts manufacturer, it was my turn. He was upset with our performance and wanted to cancel the contract two years early. But there were serious termination penalties and so his GC wouldn't let him. So, he turned into a dick (well maybe he was always a dick) and had thrown the first two out -- literally. He had merely asked the team manager to leave because she is a lady.

So here I am, up on the 16th floor, walking down the hallway where all the "chiefs" reside, with a nice view of LAX and the ocean, heading into the lion's den. The security guard escorts me to the COO's outer office, and opens the door to the outer office where the administrative assistant sits. My escort introduces him to me as "Matt" and departs. The COO's door is shut, and he is not there to meet me. Bad sign. Like that insurance commercial where the Dad uses the Kid's middle name.

I pause for a moment. Instead of a 60'ish well-traveled lady who has worked her way up or a 20- something in a short skirt who has worked something else to get there, Matt is a 25-35, fit, trim, presentable man. I adjust my approach, assuming he's a management trainee perhaps. He offers his hand, we shake, and I introduce myself.

"Mr. Rone," he says, "It's good to meet you. Mr. Daniels is in the midst of a crisis and asked me to take of you for a while." Again, bad sign.

"Thanks," I say. "Any idea how long he'll be?"

"Not sure," he says. "Something has hit the fan big time, and well---you know."

"I sure do, I'm always working in a room full of fans it seems," I reply.

He steps closer, right on the edge of the buffer zone. I've been doing this a long time. Dealing with CEOs, COOs, foremen, dockhands and loaders all over the world. I don't flinch. And I don't blink.

He is maybe an inch shorter, and so we lock eyes. Like I said, I don't blink. Thinking back on that moment, maybe I should have.

His eyes were the most interesting color of gray I had ever seen. A thought flashed through my mind remembering the line from a James Bond novel about M's 'damnably clear gray eyes'. At the same time, I was speechless. A little intake of breath and then nothing. I just stared for what seemed like ten minutes.

"Mr. Rone," he says softly, holding my gaze, "I know he wants to talk with you, and he wants me to make you as comfortable as possible."

A couple of minutes seemed to pass. I feel myself becoming more relaxed, more passive.

"Thanks," I say.

A couple more minutes of falling deeper into those eyes.

"I know it was a long flight, and you're here on serious business. Would you like a quiet room to rest, or relax, or just think to yourself?" His voice was soothing. And there was something else. An aroma--like cinnamon or cloves or something-- warm and comforting.

Again, a couple more minutes of not breathing.

"Uhhh," I finally say. "Yeah, yeah, I need to appease the never-ending demands of Ms. Apple. You know."

He smiles and says softly, "Of course, sir. Follow me, please. We have a small guest office for visitors by the elevator." And with that, he blinked softly (seductively?) a couple of times, and so did I, taking my first breath it seemed in half an hour. I shuddered slightly but did not move as he backed up to his desk and pulled a key out of the center drawer, all the while holding my gaze. I shuddered again and turned to get my briefcase and hanging bag. Getting my briefcase from the chair, I bent over to lift the hanging bag. His hand reached for it at the same time, closing over mine. His hand was warm and soft.

"Let me take this for you, sir," his voice soft in my ear.

I let go without a thought, and turned towards him. There were those eyes again, absorbing me, holding me.

"Thank you," I murmured.

"Follow me now," he smiled.

I walked a pace or two behind him, trying to collect my thoughts while part of me watched him walk. Fluid, assured, trim, athletic----he moved effortlessly it seemed. We reached a door, he unlocked and opened it, stepping back as I entered, again holding me gaze as I looked at him to nod my thanks.

I put my case on the desk; he placed my bag by the wall. "It may be 30-45 minutes before he's free," he said. "Things are not going well at a plant way out west."

"I've got all day, "I replied, "I'm here at your convenience." Thinking to myself---I mean his---I'm here to see him.

He came close again, those eyes again drawing me in. "And I'm here for anything you need. My extension is marked on the phone. The Wi-Fi info is on a card there on the desk."

Another slight smile, and then he broke the lock he had on my gaze.

I sat down and breathed deeply a couple of times as I replayed what just happened. I was ready to walk in and confront the dragon and hopefully tame it, but instead, the dragon was in his cave, and then instead of some assistant I could try and charm for any sort of helpful information, there was this enticing-----enticing???--- Where the fuck did that thought come from?-----young man.

Another deep breath-----------and there's a hint of cinnamon--------his aftershave?

I stood up, stretched, flexed, grunted, and tried to snap out of it. I opened the computer, hooked up the phone and tried to do something productive.

15 minutes later I'm still staring at a page full of unread emails as I keep circling back to how captivating his eyes were, when the door opens abruptly and the COO barges in.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, but the shit has hit the fan. If you want to keep my business, come with me and bail me out of this mess----------now. And I'm not really sorry about the wait, but I got a career ending situation here."

Nothing like a tornado wrapped around by a hurricane to bring you back to reality.

It seems that a shipment of essential parts got shipped to the wrong place and then caught in customs in a remote part of Asia and the transporter could not fix it. We went back to his office. He gathered Matt with a finger and inside we went. Daniels laid out the problem, threw a file across the desk and said Matt would get me what I needed.

Matt was all business. He grabbed the file, spun around, and jerked his head towards the door. I followed without a word. The situation did not call for banter.

The details aren't important but three hours later, we went back to Daniels' office, sat down and tossed the file back at him. He scanned it, jumped up, was gone for a couple of minutes and came back and plopped down. "You pulled it off Charlie; you worked a miracle. The legal fees alone for this fiasco would have been several years' salary."

"Just fixing problems," I said, "It's what I do."

"Well," he said, "I never said this but I'm sorry, sort of, I jerked your minions around. That's all in the past; the boss says we'll renew for two years with an option for two more."

"Works for me," I said.

"I assume you were going to buy dinner to win me over?" he asked. "You can still buy, but forget the usual sucking up and small talk, you're secure," he said. Turning to Matt he said, "Rick's -- early seating." And turning back to me, he said, "It's the steakhouse in your hotel--really good and convenient for all of us. We can walk over, and you won't have to worry about a cab later. You'll just have to remember your room number."

"Yes sir," said Matt.

As he stood, he put a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and stared right into those gray eyes again. "If you'll come with me, I'll let you back into the guest office. I expect you have some things to tend to before we go." He held my gaze for about five seconds, which seemed like 60. I have no idea why I did it, but as I rose I put my opposite hand on my shoulder on top of his. Our hands came off together and separated. Still looking at his eyes, I murmured, "Thanks, I do have some things to do."

I followed him down, slightly stunned again by the impact of his gaze and the urge for physical contact. He opened the door and smiled gently, "Let me know when you're ready to leave so I can secure it." I nodded my agreement. And there was that slight cinnamon smell.

I stood for moment trying to refocus. Somehow I got away from those eyes and opened the laptop. First send kudos to the team for their efforts, then take down the emails and messages in order.

Work cleared my head. After a while, the COO stuck his head in and said, "Let's go." I packed up and met them at the elevator. He asked if I had checked in, and I told him I had come straight to his office. He looked over at Matt and told him to take care of it and then meet us at the restaurant.

As we entered the lobby, I surrendered my bags to Matt who headed off to the desk. I figured the company had some stroke with the hotel, and Matt was no doubt known as one of the facilitators.

The hostess greeted the COO warmly, which was returned with a hug, a pat on the ass and a $20 bill slipped inside her blouse. "Looks like you're well known here," I said thinking that this guy's HR file was probably a foot thick. He allowed as how this is their primary watering hole, and expense accounts were welcome. I knew the drill and silently reassured the AMEX in my wallet that it was a big boy and could handle the beating it was about to take. A bottle of 18-year-old single malt was on the table, and he poured like it was the 1950s all over again.

Matt joined a few moments later. He hands me the folder with the key card, and says, "Got you an upgrade; bathtub with a whirlpool and a city view." "Thanks," I said, "I'll probably use the bath; it's been one of those days." He smiled warmly, "Don't we both know it. That's why I got it for you."

Again, as before, he silently held my gaze for a few seconds before turning to his drink.

Scotch flowed, food was served, war stories told. The standard business dinner "show and tell" overlaid with the relief of saving the account from a disaster and getting the contract extended. But I kept my guard up and stayed on script. I noticed that Matt also was very careful and subtly controlling. He would nudge his boss away from some topics and towards others. I noticed his finesse, and he would catch my eye from time to time and give me the most subtle wink--a slight crinkle at the corner -- to let me know he knew I knew.

After a while I noticed the COO kept glancing at the bar and lingering at a spot. I followed his gaze and there was a cluster of three ladies, one of whom glanced our way as well. I smiled. I knew what was going to happen next. Not more than five minutes of that had passed when the COO pushed his chair back and said he had to go speak to someone about an accounting issue. We stood, shook hands, and I knew he was gone. Relieved to take off the mask and get out of the role, I sat back down, slumped in the chair a bit and put some more in the glass.

I looked over at Matt and said, "I won't ask." He said, "Good, 'cause I'm loyal and working my way up; I've got nothing to say."

"I respect that," I said.

"Yeah, sure, "he replied, "All you guys say that, but will you respect me in the morning." He gave a little flirtatious shrug.

"Of course," I shot back, "The three biggest lies and all that, you know." We both chuckled. A moment of silence passed.

He leaned forward, and reached inside his coat and pulled out an E-cigarette. "Do you mind?" he asked. "I can't smoke in here of course, but there's a patio off the bar. Would you mind stepping outside with me---keep me company?"

No way would I have ever agreed to that before tonight, but for some reason, it seemed a perfectly normal request. "Sure." I said, "Let's go."

I followed him out and off to a corner. No one else was out there. He attached a cylinder to the tube, inhaled and then exhaled between us. There was the aroma I had smelled earlier. He could see I recognized it and said, "Yeah, it's a nice fragrance. I designed it myself. A hint of cinnamon and some more subtle spices. Want to try?"

"I don't smoke, never have, no interest." I said.

"It's harmless, it's just a taste, like an after-dinner drink." he replied.

I was polite. "I've had enough to drink, but not so much I want to try it."

He moved slightly closer and exhaled again. It was enticing. And for reasons I would never say out loud to anyone, it was sensual and suggestive. But again, I said, "No thanks."

Another exhale, more of that delicious vapor. And then his eyes held mine. With a soft smile and a soft voice, he said, "Charles, trust me. It's just a taste, just like sipping a liqueur through a straw, just a little taste of something smooth and delicious."

All I could do was look at him. He persisted, "Trust me, we're friends, it's not like smoking, just a sip."

I licked my lips slightly to prepare to reply, but hesitated, and he said, "See, you're giving in to me. You want to try it. Just relax. Trust me."

He was inches away; another exhale surrounded us. His eyes never wavered. My lips started to tingle.

"OK," I said. "Just a small taste."

He still held my eyes in his. And I did not see him switch the cylinder as he lifted it up and put it in my hand. I brought it to my lips and hesitated. He put his hand on mine and lifted it the rest of the way.

"Go ahead, take sip, just look and me and thus trust me, don't look away, just take the sip."

I could not have looked away if I tried. There was a light buzz in my ears and a flush to my cheeks. I put it to my lips and sipped.

The vapor was warm and soft. Nothing like what I expected.

"Hold it in, savor the taste," he said.

He pulled his hand away and I lowered the tube.

He stood there, shifted slightly, put one hand on my arm and with his other hand gently stroked my crotch up and down once.

My head jerked, and I inhaled what was in my mouth.

I jerked his hand off my arm and growled, "What the fuck was that?" I took two more quick breaths, coughing with each one.

He did not move. He just smiled. "I needed for you to get the full dose. It would have been easier if you had been a smoker, but oh well. This worked."

"What do you mean this worked?" I demanded.

"For you to be willing to take another hit," he said.

He had not stepped back. I'm trying to make sense of this when the tingling started. It was just sort of a numb tingling in my hands and feet, and then in my tongue and then in my brain, like a chill running around my body. He watched me closely.

"Yes, that's the effect I needed. Listen to me now. I need for you to take this and inhale again. Trust me, it's very pleasant, it's something I want to share with you, it's something I want you to do, trust me. We worked so hard today, and we worked so well together. Please share this with me. Do it for me."

He kept repeating this plea. He was so close it was just a whisper. His eyes were so captivating, his voice was so alluring. I could just barely make out what he was saying but now seemed to make sense. It had been a hard day; we had done well; we had worked well together; he had helped me out; I could trust anything he said.

And so when he brought it to my lips, I held his hand to keep it in place while I inhaled it more fully. It was easier the second time. I only coughed a little.

"I need you to take two more hits, please," he said.

Still holding his hand, I did so.

"Good." He purred softly. "Listen to me now. Keep looking into my eyes. You find them captivating, alluring, so soft and so deep."

"Promise me you won't look away while I talk for a moment?" his voice was like syrup. I hesitated, but I did not look away.

"See, it's easy to keep looking; they're so soft and compelling. You just get lost in them. You feel so warm and relaxed, now. So promise me, please. Just say yes, Matt."

His voice was so soft and encouraging, and I was numb and warm and could not think. "Yes, Matt," I said.

"That's so good of you. We've worked so hard today, and become so close. When I first met you this morning, I sensed you were special. Every now and then I meet a man who is receptive to my gift. Do you want to know what it is?"

"Ummm," was all I could manage.

"My eyes. Every time you looked at me, you looked me in the eye and did not look away. And the more you looked, the more you wanted to keep looking, didn't you? It's OK, you can admit it. Please, admit you can't look away."

"I---I can't," I admitted.

That's right. You can't because the smoke has relaxed you, because you are only listening to my voice, and because you want to look even deeper---not blinking, not moving----just deeper and deeper while I talk. Listening to what I say, agreeing with what I am going to tell you now. But first, one more deep inhale, please."

He brought the end up to my lips. I did not look away. I felt it touch my lips and I slight opened as he put it in. "Inhale for me Charles---do it for me, please," he commanded, and I did.

I felt like I was falling forward, falling into his eyes. His voice grew softer.

"We will go back inside in just a moment. You will tell my boss it's time for you to turn in and thank him for dinner, you will text your wife that you are worn out and will call her tomorrow, and I will escort you to your room and go inside with you to make sure everything is prepared. So, let's go back in now. You may look away from my eyes, but you always think of them and my instructions as we go inside. Tell me you understand, because this is what you want to do now. You are tired and you want to go to your room."

"I understand," I mumbled.

Somehow, I looked away. I blinked a few times and looked towards the restaurant. Matt was turning and walking back in. I followed.

He headed over to the bar where he located the COO. He was deep in conversation with the "accounting" person. He coughed and interrupted. "Mr. Rone needs to turn in."

Stepping up, I stuck out my hand, "Long day; I've got to put an end to it."

He shook it, gave me the once over, and said, "Go crash, I'll talk to you tomorrow about the contract extension." And with that, turned back to the bar.

"Let's go," said Matt. "I've got your key card, and I put the bags in the room."

As we walked through the lobby, I heard him say in a soft voice, "And you are to text home."

Without thinking I pulled out the phone and sent a text advising success and exhaustion and a call in the morning. Matt reached for the phone, and I surrendered it, again without thinking, and without noticing he had turned it off.

As we walked down the hall, I was barely conscious that he was beside me with his hand under my arm and on my bicep, steadying me and holding me close. I did not pull away; it seemed natural after all we had been through.

At the door, he pulled out the card and turned me towards him. "Focus now on my eyes, please. Look deep and listen. Please invite me in. You want me to come in so I can make sure your room is acceptable. This is normal and natural and you feel very comfortable with my coming in. You want me to come in."

It made sense. "Would you like to come in?" I asked.

"Of course, "he said, and he opened the door.

I stepped in. It was a king size bed with a couch. A light was on in the corner. I stood, trying to get my bearings. I heard the door close, and he came up behind me, turning me around gently to where my back was against the wall.