***
“So, Jay, did you consider my recommendations for the store?”
“Uhh, well, yeah, I think we’re just going to leave it for now.”
“Really? What about Jon and Marcy? Those two don’t sell anything.”
“I’ll talk to them. We also have a new assistant manager transferring over from one of our other locations.”
“Why do we need an assistant manager? Me and you are running this store just fine.”
“It wasn’t my choice. The owner wants each store to have a manager and an assistant manager.”
“Why couldn’t I be the assistant manager?”
“You don’t have the experience.”
“Experience? I practically ran the Athletic Surplus.”
“You were there for only a few months, you gotta pay your dues first.”
I was starting to see a pattern with my life. It didn’t matter how hard I worked, my fate was always in someone else’s hands. I worked really hard, was kind to everyone, and put forward a lot of really great ideas, but it still wasn’t enough. I was not able to realize my full potential until someone else gave me the opportunity to do so. It definitely wasn’t fair.
C H A P T E R
T W E N T Y - S E V E N
The date for the settlement conference fast approached. I was prepared for the worst, but I was still optimistic about my chances to absolve myself from Darrell’s debt. I didn’t have any experience being in court, but the whole idea was exciting to me. I loved to argue and I had done nothing wrong. This should be an open and shut case.
The elevator door opened and I walked into my lobby looking and feeling like a million bucks. I was wearing a traditional three-piece, three-button suit that I had bought on Boxing Day from a suit store in the mall located next to the Athletic Surplus. I checked my mailbox one last time for my Record of Employment I had requested from Athletic Surplus several weeks ago. A large portion of my case was resting on this document and I still did not have it.
I opened my mailbox and was relieved to see the law gods smiling down at me. It must be my lucky day, I thought. After three weeks of waiting, there it was, my Record of Employment. I was not sure how much it would help, but I would rather have it than not. I placed the envelope in my inside jacket pocket and I marched toward the court, ready for war.
I entered the stone courthouse for the first time and was awestruck by its size. The place was spotless and very quiet. I walked through the grand entrance to get to the map of the courthouse. I pulled out the letter I received from Mekhail and Co. LLP to confirm what conference room the hearing was being held.
I descended slowly down the escalator and looked straight ahead at the huge floor to ceiling mirror. I made a few adjustments to my tie and suit jacket before I stepped off at the bottom. I walked towards the first hallway on my left. The walls were covered with framed artwork from elementary school children. There was a big opening in the centre of the room that extended all the way up to the glass ceiling, allowing the natural sunlight to shine through. Everything else was what I expected to see, lawyers, cops, and a group of other people who seemed like they would rather not be there.
The first door on my left was room 135. I kept walking down the hall until I arrived at my destination, room 107A.
Outside the room, there were a few chairs. A short man with large glasses sat beside a middle-aged woman. The man had thin blonde hair parted to one side and wore a loose fitted hunter green suit with an outdated tie. The woman wore a navy blazer and matching skirt.
“Are you here for West Coast Press vs. Power Crew?” the man asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“I’m Jerry Mekhail, I represent West Coast Press.” The introduction was more of a formality than friendly. I didn’t smile or say anything.
I took a seat and made sure my cell phone was turned off. Darrell was nowhere in sight. He must be running late, as usual, I thought.
“West Coast Press vs. Power Crew Services,” a lady announced.
Without saying anything, I rose from the chair and walked into the room. Mr. Mekhail followed behind me and the middle-aged woman followed behind him.
“Please take a seat,” the Judge said.
Inside the small conference room was a large circular table with several chairs around it. The walls were white and bare. In the corner was a stenographer, ready to type everything we said.
“Please state your name for the record,” the Judge commanded.
“My name is Trevor Morrison.”
“Jerry Mekhail, Counsel for West Coast Press.”
“My name is Wendy Strobe, advertising manager for West Coast Press.”
“Mr. Morrison, where is your partner, Darrell Channing,” the Judge asked.
“Mr. Channing is no longer my business partner and I haven’t spoken with him in over a year.”
“Very well then, let’s proceed without him.”
Proceed without him? This can’t be good. It never occurred to me that he wouldn’t be there. In retrospect, it seemed so obvious to me. Of course he wasn’t going to show up. How could I be so naïve?
“Mr. Mekhail. Your client seeks damages of $3,653.16 plus interest against Power Crew Services, you may proceed.”
“My client, West Coast Press, met with Mr. Trevor Morrison and Mr. Darrell Channing early last year to run a number of advertisements for their business. I have a copy of those ads your honour,” Mr. Mekhail said as he flipped open an inch thick folder. He pulled out the necessary documents and set them aside. “I also have a contract Mr. Morrison and Mr. Channing signed with my client stating they would agree to pay for the services my client provided. The first couple of payments were made, but then there were a total of thirteen additional renewals over a period of two months that were left unpaid.”
“May I see those?” I interrupted.
“What would you like to see, Mr. Morrison?” Mr. Mekhail said, in a condescending tone.
“I would like to see the contract you claimed I signed, and also the renewal requests that were made.”
Mr. Mekhail slid over the documents. My heart skipped a beat when I looked down and saw my signature next to the title ‘El Presidente’. This was clearly something a young eighteen year old who was trying to be cool would write. I even remembered signing it. I looked at the other set of documents that were stapled together, five pages of orders for advertisements, the date, time, and authorized signee… ‘Darrell Channing’.
“Okay, I admit that this is my signature on the contract, but I signed as an authorized signee for Power Crew Services. I was no longer with the company at the time any of these orders were placed. As you can see, Darrell Channing made all of these orders. Therefore, he should be solely liable for the accrued debt.”
“Be that as it may Mr. Morrison, you still signed the contract and are jointly liable for the debt.”
“Why did you allow Darrell to continue to renew the ads thirteen times without payment?” I asked to the Advertising manager.
“Mr. Morrison, that is completely irrelevant. My client’s business practices are of no concern here. Let’s just stick to the issue at hand, shall we?”
I stared down at the desk and felt the presence of everyone’s eyes looking at me. This added to my anxiety as I was obviously being outmatched. I tried to block out those thoughts as I searched for my next words. I kept remembering what Mr. Taylor had said, ‘Did you sign a contract? You’re liable for the damages unless you publicly terminated the business relationship with Power Crew Services’.
I took a deep breath and looked up. The bright florescent lights made my eyes squint and made the tiny little room very hot. My new wool suit was causing me to sweat profusely so I undid the buttons on my jacket to air out a bit. It was at that moment when I saw my Record of Employment sitting neatly in my inside jacket pocket, shining like a ray of hope. A wave of confident came over me. I grabbed it immediately and prepared for one final effort to exone
rate myself.
I raised the document high in the air and announced, “I have here a Record of Employment that states I was employed full time by Athletic Surplus. This document proves unequivocally that I was no longer in business with Power Crew Services, and therefore proves I’m not liable for any of the damages.” I set the document down on the table, leaned back in my chair with a smug look on my face, and folded my arms.
“Mr. Morrison,” Judge Winston interjected, “we believe you that this is not your debt. Nevertheless, you still signed the contract. You can take this to trial, but honestly you don’t have a case.”
“Fine, I don’t want to waste any more time with this. I’ll pay you half of the debt, and you can track down Darrell for the other half.”
“I have a problem with that,” Mr. Mekhail announced. “Either one of you is fully liable for the debt. If you want to track down Darrell, then you can do so.”
“I can do that?” I asked, showing my interest in getting revenge on Darrell.
“Yes, you can seek indemnity,” Mr. Mekhail replied. “If you agree to pay this debt, then I can help you track down Mr. Channing.”
I looked over at the Judge to confirm this. The Judge nodded.
That would be great, I thought, I would love to sue Darrell. Besides, at that moment it seemed like my only option. “Okay then, I don’t want any trouble. I’ll agree to pay the entire debt. However, I can’t afford to pay you all at once. I’ll get a second job if I have to.”
“Why don’t we agree on you paying me one hundred dollars a month, due on the fifteenth of every month?”
“Why the fifteenth?” I asked, as my curious nature took over.
“Because I assume you, like most people, get paid twice a month, once in the middle of the month and once at the end of the month. The end of the month is usually when most people pay their rent and other bills, so the fifteenth is the best time to collect.”
“Makes sense,” I said. I liked the way he thought, very calculated and very logical.
“So, the first payment will be due next week. You can deliver it to my office. Here’s my card with my address in case you don’t have it already.”
I took the card and briefly looked it over. I made my exit and proceeded up the escalator.
What just happened? I asked myself. I came here to defend my innocence and I ended up absorbing the entire debt. How am I going to pay this debt? There’s no way I can afford to pay a hundred dollars a month.
C H A P T E R
T W E N T Y - E I G H T
There have been a few situations in my life that have been less than ideal. In each case, I have had a choice: do something, or do nothing. I was now facing one of those instances. I needed to make more money, that was a fact, and what I was doing was not working.
I once again went out to the internet café and updated my résumé with my latest work experience. I printed out a dozen copies, but only applied to all the restaurants in the neighborhood.
A few days later, I received a phone call from Kim, the manager of Ray’s on Top Restaurant. Despite its uplifting sounding name, it was a double entendre – the restaurant was owned by a guy named Ray and was literally located on top of a drug store. Ray’s was a local hotspot for the ‘in crowd’ because of the attractive staff, positive vibes, and unique menu. I was invited to go in for an interview.
“I see you applied to be a server,” Kim said.
“Yes, that is correct. I believe my skill set makes me an excellent candidate for a server position.”
“Unfortunately, we only hire servers who have had prior serving experience; however, I wanted to discuss another position we have available. It is an entry level position, but you could eventually be trained to be a server.”
It was the same old story. I knew I could do the job, but there was always something, or someone, holding me back.
“What is the position that’s available?” I asked.
I was willing to take anything at that point. After all, if I worked as hard as I had in the past, I would surely be promoted to a server. I needed the money and I knew servers made a lot more than I did. Ashley made close to two grand a month at the pancake house. I needed to start making that kind of money.
“We have a part-time busser position available. The busser’s job is to ensure all the tables are ready for our guests. They are also responsible for food running, stocking cutlery, and assisting the bartender and chef with a variety of odd jobs. So if you’re looking for a job that offers diversity, we would love to bring you on board. So what do you say, are you up for the challenge?”
The Art of the Hustle Page 32
