Chapter 6

Jerry’s office was down the hall from his father’s, small, sterile, with one small window. He pulled up the blinds. Whitecaps danced atop the Hudson River. In the park, a man threw a ball for his dog to fetch.

His job was to call former accounts and see if they could be revived. He studied the list. He picked up the phone.

“Deodorex sucks. My customers are throwing those hockey pucks at each other. It’s for losers who don’t clean their bathrooms. Fuck you!” said the first person Jerry called.

Jerry took a breath. OK, that didn’t go so well. So, then it can only get better. And it did. To his surprise, he enjoyed talking with the people. Something about the phone made it easier. They talked about everything, from their health to what they were eating. If a sale came about, that was a bonus. He was a good listener, and people had much to say.

Jerry brought out his peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the break room. Another man was seated opposite him with a salad. 

“You’re the new kid,” he said. Jerry noticed a plain, platinum wedding band around his finger. 

“Yes.” 

“And your the boss’s son.”

“Right again.”

“Well, I guess we have to stop talking now.”

“No, that’s OK. I never talk to my dad.”

The man laughed. “OK then. Did you hear about that kid who died eating one of the urinal cakes?” 

“Oh, my God.”

“Apparently, one of the ingredients is poisonous, even smelling it is harmful.”

“I like the smell. Reminds me of moth balls.”

“Funny you should mention. Well, it’s really not. That same ingredient is in moth balls. So don’t go around smelling them either. It’ll kill you.”

“Good to know.”

“Tod.”

“Jerry.”

Jerry stood up. “I better make some calls.”

“Good to meet you.”

The next morning Jerry strolled into the men’s room and his dad and Tod were standing together. His dad abruptly backed away, washed his hands and left.

 “Jerry,” said his dad, averting his eyes as he passed by.

“Dad,” said Jerry.

“Jerry,” said Tod as he too passed by.

“Tod,” said Jerry.

That was weird. Jerry wondered if they had been talking about him.

By the end of summer, Jerry gazed at his white board filled with revived accounts. Not bad, he thought. And with the commission plus hourly pay structure, he was taking home significant money. Maybe he could get his own place in the city, save some money. Go to seminary later. 

But then he would be working for his dad and seeing him every day.