Free Samples!

Let me tell you a little tale about Oakland, a city I tend to avoid after dark. That said, a potential client, a referral, had called to schedule an evening appointment to see everything Red House had to offer. I was trying to find a daytime appointment that would work and wasn’t getting anywhere. This guy was even busier than I! We settled on an evening when I was sure Michael would be available to ride shotgun. (Well, that’s not quite the right image, particularly for Oakland.) Unfortunately, at the last minute he came down with the flu. That’s what happens when you fly a lot – first, you get run down from the hassle of coming and going. It’s the reality of ultra-stressed air travel today. Then, in a weakened state, you provide the perfect milieu for incubating your fellow-travelers germs, each of which has been constantly recirculated throughout the plane for five-plus hours at a time. Yuck. Nice wife that I am, I left him some chicken soup from Dean & DeLuca. This stuff is so good; it almost makes it worthwhile to be sick.

So it would be Kerin and I going to meet with the owner of a bike messenger agency. We discussed our presentation on the way. It seemed pretty straightforward. He’d probably want polo shirts that would give his fleet a consistent look, refined enough for the genteel office environments where the mysterious pouches of divorce papers, liens and private investigators’ photos would be signed for. Kerin had a good point though, these kamikaze bikers had such an alternative mien about them with their multiple facial piercings and Technicolor spiked hair that the shirts would not be what people noticed. Their jobs are dangerous and they like to look the part. In addition, they often entered elevators sweaty and out of breath, noses running… (We won’t recommend a long sleeve style lest it stand in for a Kleenex!) And were any of our colors going to be visible enough to keep the riders seen as they darted between lanes and parked cars?

We parked on the street, as close as possible to the building where we’d be meeting. There was one homeless guy pushing a cart full of what appeared to be recyclables - good for him. No sounds of gunfire or shady characters hanging out - a good sign. We lugged the sample cases, which were plenty heavy - especially by the end of the block. As I was about to press the intercom button to get us in, I couldn’t remember if I locked the car. Locking the car is important, that I knew. I didn’t want one of us to go alone to check and we sure were not going to drag the cases back to the car, so we stashed them in the alley around the corner and together walked back to the car, which did turn out to be locked. (Note to myself: try to use memory more effectively.) We walked back to the building, turned into the alley and…a sense of panic hit us. Where were the cases?! They were GONE! It only took five minutes for an opportunist to strike. I was furious! Now what? I called the client, who buzzed us in. I explained the situation and he tried to make me feel better by telling me of things he’s found at the entrance to the building. It didn’t help. I called to make a police report and was told I would need to come in, which added to my anger and frustration. Kerin and I did our best to present our “samples” via laptop, but the color registration is never ideal and I was so distracted anyway. And, found myself angry at Michael for no reason at all. Kerin kept her calm and did most of the talking. In the end, she convinced the client that the Double-Mercerized Polo (RH04) in Turquoise was the right choice for his crew.

We returned to the car, which was fortunately still where I parked it (and with all its wheels!) and headed over to the P.D. for paperwork. (Not a place I’d want to linger…) We returned home not expecting to hear anything. I was able to replace all my samples within days so no real hardship. Then, a few weeks later came the call - from the ALAMEDA COUNTY BOMB SQUAD!! I gasped audibly. They were going through some stolen property records and the matter of my two purloined cases had caught their eye in an “uh-oh moment.” It was they who had been alerted to the cases in the alley, by a homeless man who keeps an eye on things. They were a suspicious sight, partially hidden in the alley next to a building containing a law firm that has recently represented some ecoterrorism suspects. The unit had quietly removed the cases and EXPLODED THEM (!!!) at an undisclosed location with their handy robotic remote control vehicle. Apparently, things don’t need to tick to be trouble. And this sort of event is not as uncommon as I might have thought. I pictured colorful fragments of silk herringbone and pinpoint cotton raining down over the city. Well, I guess Red House has made its own small contribution to the war on terror. Whoa.