Olive Oil and White Bread by Georgia Beers Page B

one, one of his contacts will know someone and introduce him.” Keith had locked up dozens of companies as customers before many of the other salespeople at Logo Promo even had time to think about trying to get in. His customer list was twice as long as everybody else’s, and his salary reflected that. He wore designer suits, drove a Cadillac, and had the biggest, most well-furnished office in the building.
    â€œI’d better get back to my own office and get to work,” Angie said as she stood. “I’ve got issues coming out of my ears.”
    She’d been in Hope’s office looking for guidance on how to keep the stress from making her feel like her head was going to explode. Flopping into her chair, she scoured the list she’d made of problems that needed her attention. She had three embroidery orders that were late. Six customers were waiting on quotes, and in turn, Angie was waiting on six quotes from her own suppliers. Four orders were waiting to be written, two new and two reorders. Ivan owed her art for three separate projects.
    When she got this bogged down, she didn’t know where to begin, so she didn’t begin at all. Instead, she clicked on the small radio on her desk and just sat looking at the things she needed to do. Her head was clogged. Blinking at her list seemed to be all she could do.
    Scrubbing her hands over her face helped to wake her up a little. She glanced at the clock and made a sound of surprise. It was after four. How was it possible she’d spent all day in the office and still had this seemingly insurmountable list in front of her? “Because I spent half the day bitching,” she muttered to herself. “That’s how.” Frustration bubbledup, adding to the stress; her stomach was a cauldron and whatever was in it was boiling over. She glanced up through her window onto the hall just as Hope approached. A tap on the door, and then she entered.
    â€œIt’s after four,” Angie said as she reached for the cupboard door above her credenza. Her fingers closed around the bottle of Absolut. “I have a ton of work to do, but I need to relax for five minutes. Join me?”
    Hope hesitated.
    â€œCome on, Hopie. My day has sucked balls, and I need to de-stress before I have a heart attack. I don’t want to drink alone, but I will.”
    â€œOkay. But just one. I’ve got to get home.” She scooted down the hall to the company kitchen and returned with two cans of 7UP and two plastic cups with ice.
    Angie poured, and they touched glasses.
    â€œSixteen thousand, one hundred twenty-seven dollars,” Hope stated. “That’s what Muldoon is making on that order.”
    Angie shook her head. “Why can’t I find a client as big as Cavit-McTavish? Do you know what I could do with money like that?”
    â€œI’ve been trying not to think about exactly that since we got the announcement. I could pay off my car. Go on a trip. Put a new roof on my house.”
    â€œI would take Jillian away somewhere,” Angie said. “I feel like I never see her. I practically live here.” As if on cue, her phone rang. She glared at it until it went into voicemail, changing the little 4 on its screen to a 5. “I feel like I can’t catch up.”
    â€œYeah, that’s one of the things I like least about this job.” Hope took a sip from her cup. “There’s never any plateauing. In most sales jobs, you spend years building your clientele, but once you have one, you can ease off and relax a bit. Not here.”
    â€œâ€˜Any customer can desert you at any time. There will always be somebody who can do it cheaper.’” Angie sighed, quoting one of the first rules Hope had told her when they began working together.
    â€œThat’s why our customer service is so important; it’s the only thing that sets us apart from everybody else. And that ’s what you need to keep