The pitch and the pain

I’ve wanted to kick a vendor to the curb the past few weeks. His name is “Jim Flimsy” and he would just not quit. I could feel the New Yorker in me fighting to get out and tell him to SHUT UP ALREADY! I even had to step out for air, but it was hard to watch the hawks circling overhead without picturing one swooping down on Jim and ripping out his jugular vein. (Did I really say that?!)

I have to say I was intrigued the first time Jim called about his “wonderful” interlock fabric, so I asked to see his samples. He proffered some very sad swatches of inexpensive cotton/poly interlock. It was sure to pill up after a few washes and too thin to hold up to embroidery. Kind of shiny too, made me think of bowling. I told him Red House would consider only long staple combed Pima cotton. No blends. No deal. I was adamant but polite. Yet, HE DID NOT GIVE UP! Days later he called AGAIN with a value-added feature - he named his colors to reflect the majesty of wine country living. Unreal! As if “Pinot Plum” and “Malbec Mauve” would change my mind about polyester.

Mr. Flimsy also had my business card from the trade show and was calling me on my cell. Couldn’t we compromise? NO! And last Saturday, Michael and I ran into him at the Ledson Winery tasting room. He mentioned how much he wanted to work with me and how offering a lower-cost (aka lower-quality) polo shirt would open new doors for Red House. I obliged him briefly, though quietly seething with annoyance, and leaving Michael to make conversation with his wife.

There was a happy, nonviolent ending. I sent Jim to another provider of corporate clothing who I thought would be receptive to his low prices and shameless self-promotion. She in turn, sent a vendor of a premium organic interlock my way. One hand washes the other, as they say, and no hand goes for the jugular, as I say.