Every other phone call was like that for a month. Bosses saying “Get me the A-phone!” and assistants scrambling to do so. Some were understanding, others, obviously less so. Typically the shit would flow downhill and you could tell how awful the boss was by the behavior of those they had employed. I suppose the logic being that if you’re hiring someone to do your barking for you, you’d better be sure their bark is at least as loud as yours. I’ve never met Nicolas Cage, I probably never will. But if I do, he owes me two apologies. One for the inexcusable behavior of Francine Jones, the other for every performance he’s given since Raising Arizona.
Finally, it was launch day. The line had begun the night before and consisted of two 15 year-old kids intent on spending the night and being first in the nerd queue. The overnight security guard would later inform me that these two became frightened of the local transients, went home and came back at daybreak. They hadn’t lost much ground. They ended up 20th and our line was 150 strong at opening. I was sure that our store, being the flagship of the region, would clearly be given the lion’s share of Southern California’s supply. We had assured every caller that, even though we could not hold an A-phone for them, we were positive there would be plenty of them in stock. Our store was, and still is, the sales leader of all of Southern California. How could we not be amply supplied?
We sold through the 110 A-phones that we received in 2 hours. That was it. Done. The line was still there, the people were still willing. We blew through our supply before 10am even hit. Then we practiced our pitch for the disappointed who would be frantically running through the door all day. We didn’t know when we’d be getting more but we remained optimistic. “Hopefully (surely) tomorrow.” How could we not? We’re the phone store, after all. Check back again tomorrow. We’ll have more then. Wrong.
The biggest sales day of the year was a bust. We sold maybe 6-10 A-phones per sales rep; then we became greeters. I was supposed to be consoled by the idea that “some stores didn’t get any!” What a joke. That enraged me even more. Why would I feel better that other reps got shafted even worse than we did? This company was the laughing stock before this debacle. It looked like the phone guys were dancing to the tune the computer guys wrote. The computer guys kept selling. Were we all hanging from the strings held by the turtle-necked puppeteer?
What followed was an embarrassing five weeks without the A-phone. Five weeks of phones ringing, ringing, ringing. I can still hear them ringing.
“Thank you for choosing The Phone Company. This is Jason. How may I assist you?”
“You guys got A-phones?”
“No, sir. I’m sorry we are still sold out. Maybe next week?”
“So, you guys are the phone company and you don’t sell phones?”
“That’s right, sir. Pretty ironic, huh?”
“It’s fucking stupid is what it is.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Then comes a sigh, followed by the most annoying version of the two most common syllables in the English language. A breathy, raised pitch of incredulity betraying the actual word.
“Ohhh-kayyyy.”
Dick.
Our appetites had been whetted. Our hopes had been built up. Our importance in the grand scheme of things was severely overestimated. Meanwhile, the computer company’s stores were selling thousands.
A more cynical version of myself would make the argument that this was diabolically intentional. Maybe someday, someone will file a class-action lawsuit. It won’t be me. But it does seem suspicious. Sales reps at The Phone Company were paid commission. Employees at The Computer Store were not. Why would the cell phone company want to sell the A-phone in their stores when they were not making any money on the equipment anyway? They were guaranteed the service contracts. No other carrier’s service would work in the phone. Selling them at the computer company’s stores was equally profitable from the contract point of view and that way you wouldn’t have to pay your employees any commission. They made out like bandits for over a month. We answered phones; they raked in the money. Finally, after a long, dry July in the first week of August, we started selling the phone in our stores. We also started getting all the complaints that would go along with doing so.
Launching the world’s most exclusive, innovative and advanced mobile phone device can present “challenges.” “Challenges,” I have learned, is the corporate terminology for “cluster fucks.”
