Everybody liked Bernie. Her given name was Bernadette but everyone called her Bernie. She was a hard worker, a live wire and an inspirational leader. People loved being around her and worked hard for her because she busted her ass, was always positive and enthusiastic, had a great sense of humor and could sell ice cubes to an Eskimo in February. Oh, and she was also hot as a firecracker.
Bernie was in her early forties but looked ten years younger. She was of medium height with light brown shoulder-length hair, pretty face, a mature, slim body with all the right curves and nice firm boobs jutting straight out. She had a way of turning heads wherever she was whether it was because of her infectious charisma, her impeccable dress or her incredible body.
She was a Vice President of Sales for a large marketing firm. But her style was unlike that of the other VPs in the company. The others tended to spend most of their time at the corporate office holding meetings, working at their computers or talking on the phone. But Bernie spent much of her time in the field. She still serviced a large number of accounts herself while the others only handled a cherry-picked few. She also spent a lot of days riding with the sales reps under her umbrella, meeting their clients, learning their territories and helping them sell.
Bernie had a sales manager working for her named Wendy. Wendy was Bernie's polar opposite: A fat dead-serious Jewish woman with a grating nasal voice, annoying personality, no sense of humor and seemed to take little or no enjoyment from her work. She was all about the numbers.
They were planning to open a new territory in an outlying area that was a two-hour drive from the office. They would need a qualified self-starter who could get up and running and become productive quickly and could work unsupervised most of the time. It was decided that Wendy would interview the applicants and any that she deemed strong candidates would then be interviewed by Bernie. They had both interviewed five applicants when Wendy asked Bernie to interview Jayden. 'This could be the one', Wendy had said.
BERNIE:
I remember when Jayden walked into my office for his interview. My very first thought was, 'Wow, this kid sure is nice to look at'. He was mid-to-late-twenties, tall and I could tell he was muscular underneath his snug dress shirt. He was ethnically handsome with a dark complexion. His black hair was pulled tight against his scalp and tied into a pony tail which was tucked into the back of his collar and down inside the back of his shirt. He made a good first impression, had a professional appearance and I instinctively knew he could represent the company well.
His resume was pretty much what we were looking for too: College degree and some, but not too much, related experience (the company had its own culture and liked to mold its own). He was sharp, quick-witted and very likable, and spoke with a clipped, indiscernible articulation. Within five minutes I knew two things: One, I was going to hire him, and two, I was going to supervise him myself.
JAYDEN:
After the first interview I didn't think I'd get the job, and wasn't even sure I wanted it. Wendy seemed to be so serious and such a ball-buster I just couldn't imagine working for her. But when she said she wanted me to interview with her boss, a VP named Bernie, I figured 'Okay, what the hell'. I went to the interview the next week and had no idea Bernie was a woman until I walked into her office.
What a knockout! She might have been older, but she was fucking hot. Great thin body and nice firm tits all wrapped up in a cool blue designer business suit with just enough skin of her upper chest visible to give my dick a buzz. I tried not to let my eyes linger there but I'm sure she caught me.
We hit it off immediately, she was nothing like Wendy. Bernie was enthusiastic as she described the position and asked all the typical interview questions and she had a magnetic smile and laugh. I liked her immediately.
A few days later I learned that I got the job and was relieved and flattered to hear that Bernie would be my direct supervisor. She mentioned that Wendy was already spread too thin but I think she may have sensed that me and Wendy would have been like oil and water.
--
Jayden started work three weeks later. The first week was classroom training with other new employees. The company put him up in a local hotel so he wouldn't have to drive over two hours each way each day. A couple evenings after class he met with Bernie in her office and they discussed his prospects, his work plan and goals and mapped out the new territory. Bernie said that she would try to arrange to ride along with him at least once every couple weeks for a while to help him get off to a fast start. Both times they were in her office till after seven p.m. On Wednesday evening she took him out to dinner and they talked business and it was after eight by the time she dropped him off. It appeared that he would be working for a workaholic. He'd noticed she was in early and went home late.
"You really work long hours, don't you, Bernie?" Jayden asked her at one point.
"Yes, I guess I do," she said, "But I love what I do. My daughter is grown and out of the house and my husband Fred is an airline pilot. He flies from the U.S. to the far east...Tokyo and Hong Kong...and back every week. He is gone Sunday till Thursday. So I work a lot during the week, and go home to a big, empty house.
'Hmm', Jayden thought to himself, wondering if she was getting enough at home.
On Friday, the final day of training, Bernie told Jayden that she would come out and ride with him the following Wednesday. She asked him to set up a full day with four or five confirmed appointments and they would make some cold-calls too. They were going to close some sales.
--
Jayden had five set appointments. They went 0-for-2 in the morning but closed two out of three in the afternoon, and managed to set up several appointments for the coming days. Jayden would let Bernie kick things off and then follow her lead. They quickly developed a chemistry together. The prospects seemed to enjoy their performances.
Jayden got the hang of the job quickly and was doing pretty well on his own, but every time Bernie rode along with with him was a productive day. Unless appointments canceled on them, they'd always manage to close one or two and identify some good future prospects. Bernie would arrive early and they would haul ass all morning, then Bernie would treat him to lunch, and then they'd haul ass all afternoon. Then right before they parted at the end of the day Bernie would get out her datebook and schedule their next ride-along.
Each day they spent together was seven or eight or nine hours in close quarters, in the car, side by side in front of a client, at a cozy table for lunch. They became very comfortable together, their inhibitions lowered. They laughed together, occasionally touched one another during conversation, and shared personal information.
"Can I ask you a question?" Bernie asked him one time at lunch.
"Sure," Jayden said. "What?"
"You have a slight accent. It's very unique. Where are you from?"
He smiled and sat back. "I was born in Curacao and lived there until I was twelve. Then my mother wanted me to be educated in the States and we moved here. My father stayed."
"Ah, interesting. How did your parents meet?"
"My mother is American. A tall blonde with blue eyes. She was a senior in college and in Curacao on her Christmas break when she took a snorkeling trip and met my father. He was Captain of the boat. She went back home and finished her final semester of school with me in her belly. As soon as she graduated she went back to him. They were together until she brought me here when I was twelve. She begged him to come but he had no interest. He's still there, still running boat charters. We've stayed in touch and I visit him from time to time; he is always after me to move back and go into the business with him. I probably will some day."
"Your father sounds like a character from a Hemingway novel."
"His name is Alonso. He is a descendant of the Caquetio Indians and the Dutch. He loves where he lives and what he does."
"That's the secret of happiness, I think," Bernie said. "Who, what and where. Sounds like your father has at least two out of three."
"Huh?" Jayden asked.
"Who, what, where," she said. "Who are you with, what are you doing and where are you doing it? If you are with the right person, are doing what you want and live where you want to be, that's true happiness. If you have two out of three you can be reasonably happy too. Less than two, I don't think so."
"Hmm," he said. "I never thought of it like that. Interesting."
"How about you, Jayden? Where are you on the scale?" Bernie asked. Her eyes were wide open and staring into his. He detected a slight semi-wink from her left eyelid.
"Two out of three. I have the what and the where."
