THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

I entered the room, greeting my factory supervisor, sales manager, office clerk come secretary, and my accountant, Callum Bridges. They returned the greeting as I sat at the end of the table.

“Right off the bat I want to say that it’s time for us to bite the bullet and face the facts,” I said. “We can pretend that things will improve if we keep our heads in the clouds but, at the end of the day, we need to call a spade a spade and face the music. It’s hardly brain surgery. Our backs are against the wall. Prices of fuel and materials have gone through the roof leaving us in the red to the point where, in short order, Callum has informed me that we will be literally scraping the bottom of the barrel. There’s no point shutting our eyes to the truth and turning a deaf ear. Our situation is dire and time is of the essence. Be assured that I will leave no stone unturned and move heaven and earth to see to it that this company doesn’t go down the tubes. That would be a pill too bitter for me to swallow.

Two days ago I emailed to each of you my proposal that I hope will enable us to turn the tide on our flagging sales, even though it may seem like we’re going back to square one. Today, right now, I want to test the waters by getting your reaction and feedback. Please feel free to let me have it with both barrels if you think I’m barking up the wrong tree. I’m pretty thick-skinned, as you all know.”

Tom Banks, my factory supervisor, never one for being backward in coming forward, responded, “I hope I'm not jumping the gun here. I’m not trying to be a wet blanket or throw a spanner in the works but, from what I can see, this will involve some significant re-tooling, so we’ll have our work cut out to do that in short order.”

“Thanks, Tom,” I said, “You’ve been with the company through thick and thin and I acknowledge that it’s going to involve a race against the clock. I’m not expecting you to burn the midnight oil but if you and a couple of the technicians would be prepared to do some overtime and stay the course to get it done I would be eternally grateful. If needs must I’ll pay you out of my own pocket.”

“Sure. I showed your plan to Brian and Graeme yesterday and they said they would be prepared to go back to the drawing board to get the job done.”

“Thanks, Tom. Anyone else? Bevan, what about you?”

“Well," Bevan said, "from my perspective as sales manager I had a face to face with the management of the Highpoint Hardware store chain yesterday to bounce your idea off them. I showed them the mock-up you attached in your email to me.

“Very good. How did it go?”

“Yes... well, in light of sales generally their reaction was a little mixed. They acknowledged that we were breaking new ground with our product but it depends on our wholesale pricing per unit. From my discussions with you, Callum and Tom yesterday I was able to assure them that it wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg for us to manufacture and so we could offer pricing that we were confident would enable our product to sell like hot cakes. Reading between the lines, the demeanor of a couple of their middle managers indicated to me that they believe all salespeople are bullsh*t artists who should be cut down to size. Even when you bend over backwards to allay their concerns, handling them with kid gloves, they strike me as the sort of people whose first inclination is to pour cold water on anything new or different. You almost sense they would be delighted if we ended up biting off more than we can chew and ultimately going down the toilet with egg on our faces.”

“Interesting,” I chuckled. “Presumably, at least, the flushing toilet would wash the egg off our faces.”

“Ha ha,” Bevan said, continuing. “That would be true, I guess. Anyway, as I was about to say, it quickly became apparent that the negativism of those middle managers cut no ice with Highpoint's top management. They were much more positive. They wouldn't allow those two to be, as it were, the tail wagging the dog. They do ask for one concession, however.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“One hundred units on consignment to spread across their stores here, statewide.”

“Oh.”

“What does that mean?” asked Tom.

“It means that, in this instance, we provide the goods at an agreed price, both wholesale and retail, and only when they sell them do they have to pay us. And if they don’t they can return them to us, no harm no foul.”

“Oh.”

“What do you think, Callum?”

“How deep are your pockets, Boss?” Callum asked.

“Look, I’ve got some shares I can sell that should raise about one hundred and fifty thousand dollars and I would be prepared to invest that in the company to keep us afloat.”

“Are you sure about this?” Callum asked.

“Nothing ventured nothing gained. Even though it goes somewhat against the grain the simple fact is that beggars can't be choosers. Does anyone else want to put in their two cents worth before we wrap things up?”

“I would like to say something,” said Jane, our office clerk.

“Go for it, Jane.”

“I would just like to say that you’ve been so good to me and how much I have enjoyed working here. So, perish the thought, if the poo hits the fan and everything ends up going south I just wanted to make sure that I had the opportunity to get that off my chest. I just hope that you come out smelling like roses and laughing all the way to the bank.”

“Why, thank you, Jane. I appreciate your sentiments.”

“And so say all of us,” said Tom.

“Thanks, guys. I am confident that we will soon see light at the end of tunnel. Let’s not die wondering.”

"Yes," Bevan said, "it would be very satisfying to see those two naysayers at Highpoint having to change their tune and eat humble pie."

"Amen to that."

**

Four weeks hurried by. With the shares sold and money in the bank, re-tooling done and design templates formulated, in place and tested, one hundred units had been produced, packaged and distributed on consignment across the ten of Highpoint Hardware’s stores statewide. The waiting game began. Meantime, we continued, with Tom and his crew looking at ways to refine production. No point dragging our feet. In for a penny, in for a pound. Their efforts proved successful. They found that they could combine elements of two tasks, effectively killing two birds with one stone. Not that I was at all surprised. This sort of thing is right up their alley. Those guys could give any expert a run for his money.

Three days went by. No news. By the morning of the fifth day I was like a cat on a hot tin roof. The suspense was killing me. And then we got the call. Carrie, our receptionist said that Rob Hyatt, senior sales executive for Highpoint, was on the line. As nervous as a turkey before Thanksgiving I picked up the ’phone. “Hi, Rob, how are things?” I asked, trying to appear relaxed when, in fact, my heart was beating like a drum.

“Hi, Scott,” he replied. “Thought I should give you a call.”

“Uh huh.”

“Yes, about that consignment you sent.”

“Yes, one hundred units.”

“That’s it. Any chance you can send us, say, one thousand more for nationwide distribution?”

I hesitated, not because of any doubts but because I was trying to catch my breath as my heart missed a beat. It was momentary because my heart then jumped out of my chest, doing cartwheels. “One thousand units? I replied, stunned. "Yes. Yes, of course...but, um...we would have to re-visit the terms.”

“Yes, I understand that. We would be happy to agree to, say, thirty percent advance payment pre-dispatch and sixty day terms on the balance.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said. “I’ll get our accountant, Callum Bridges, to liaise with your people and take care of that. We should be in a position to produce two hundred units for dispatch by the middle of next week and then the remaining eight hundred within the following month. We’ll burn the midnight oil if we have to.”

“Excellent. Look forward to dealing with you guys.”

“Thanks, Rob. ’Bye for now.”

“’Bye.”

One thousand units! Oh, yes, just what the doctor ordered. Okay, we’re going to have our hands full, but that’s a good thing. And it tells me that Highpoint recognizes the potential of our product; that it's not just some flash in the pan. They've worked out which way the wind is blowing.

Over the intercom I asked my staff who had attended my meeting previously to come to the meeting room. When they were all seated I did my best to put on a serious poker face, commencing, “First of all, it would seem that I have to acknowledge something that Jane said in this room a month ago." Pausing a few seconds for effect, the eyes on the small group of faces all pleading, desperate for good news, I then continued, "It looks like we are going to be laughing all the way to the bank.”

“Woohoo!” Jane shrieked.

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” said Tom.

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” said Callum.

**

I sat in the office after the staff had left, savoring the sweet smell of success once again. When push came to shove we had faced up to the task and put in the hard yards, throwing caution to the wind. And, as Jane had hoped, we had come out smelling like roses. We had stayed the course and stuck to our guns even when, at times, it seemed like we were skating on thin ice. We had dodged a bullet. We had reached the light at the end of the tunnel and were now starting to bask in its glow, confident that we could expand into other markets, even overseas. I would need to get a world-wide patent organized and pay a visit to my bank manager. The sky's going to be the limit—as long as we keep a clear head and do our research. We don't want to get involved with any fly-by-nighters, getting our fingers burnt because they end up stabbing us in the back, leaving us high and dry owing unpaid debts. I've had that experience in the past. Old whatsisname, what a shonky individual he turned out to be; as dubious as a fox caught in a chicken coop claiming, "It was just a social visit."

I recalled saying a month ago how our need to face the facts and do something to turn the tide on our dire situation was hardly brain surgery. But what we had achieved took no small amount of brain power, with our innovation, re-tooling and production, all in short order. Add to that our determination and persistence and who could blame us right now if we felt like blowing our own trumpets?

Well, it was time to call it a day and head home, maybe gently twist my beloved’s arm and take her out on the town. If I play my cards right who knows where the evening might end? Regardless, I'll sleep like a baby when I hit the sack tonight.

I walked out into the freshening breeze, a happy portent, perhaps, of the winds of change I could feel coming over me. Or it could be the ham and onion sandwich I had for lunch…

Raindrops started falling. Next thing it was raining cats and dogs. I didn’t care. I was on that cloud up there...cloud nine.