Tales 3
The Pinhead Story
Steve Carpenter is probably the only true name I'll disclose in this blog because I can only write flattering positive things about my time with him.
Pinhead is another matter entirely..........so Pinhead he'll stay.
Flush with confidence from my Steve Carpenter experience I set out to capture lightning in a bottle a second time in one week.
I saw Pinhead's site sign at the head of his rather impressive development containing a lot of respectable looking homes that were selling at that time for $250,000 to $350,000 dollars a pop. I drove in to find Pinhead sitting in his brand new kick-butt pickup truck smoking a cigarette and talking on his cell phone.
In my naivety I assumed he was closing some important deal, maybe advising the President of the United States on foreign policy – I wasn't sure I would be worthy of this man's valuable time. Pinhead sized me up in about ten seconds.
Before I could utter a syllable he said "You must be a lumber salesman".
I wasn't in uniform and I was driving my own vehicle with no company lettering on it. Pinhead's only clue was the soft sided briefcase I was holding and maybe the hopeful look on my face.
" I have plans for you to take with you", he said, "Do a takeoff and give me a price"
-- which is exactly what I did.
Two days later I returned to find Pinhead in the exact same position I had left him in. Had this guy even moved since? Was that the same cigarette he was smoking? Who cares! I got an order!
This was too good to be true!
So easy!
Too easy..............
I returned to the lumber yard with the pride and enthusiasm of a cat that dropped a fresh kill on the doorstep of his master.
Of course I had Pinhead fill out an application for credit which I submitted to my credit manager....
Pitbull
I'll refer to our credit manager as Pitbull – because that's what you have to be to actually hold the job of credit manager.
Pitbull informed me that Pinhead's credit was bad – really bad. The only way we were going to supply him was if he consented to signing a Notice Of Contract.
That's a paper that once signed ensures the payment of a supplier at the time a house is closed on. In short – the builder doesn't get any money on the deal unless the supplier is paid.
As it turns out, my good fortune with Pinhead was nothing more than an attempt by him to be able to continue getting materials from a different yard as he had been cut off by all of his other suppliers.
I returned to Pinhead's development the next day with the document in my soft sided briefcase.
I said " Pinhead, my yard needs you to sign a Notice Of Contract".
"A wha....?" Pinhead replied.
"It's a document that protects both of us" I said.
If there was ever a time to sling some BS this was it.
Pinhead hesitated for a moment, took a drag off of his cigarette, placed the document face up on the hood of his brandie-new-killer-pick-up and signed it.
Now the cat really had something to take back to the doorstep.
We supplied Pinhead for one rather large house.
One
We supplied everything – frame, windows and doors, kitchens, baths, flooring - the whole shebang to the tune of 75 grand.
All was fine until Pinhead started going into 90 days on his payments –
and then I got the call.....
An enraged Pinhead found out what a Notice Of Contract was! He shouted a few expletives, I can't relay to you in a family blog, but in the end we got paid.
Don't get me wrong – I'm not particularly proud of this episode. Pinhead is exactly the kind of account you DON'T want. But at the time I was just trying to survive in my newfound profession and Pinhead's intention was to jilt us out of our money anyway.
I don't know what Pinhead is up to all these years later – I picture him driving the same truck he was then, which is now probably rusting out from under itself, smoking his cigarettes on his way to his job scrubbing toilets at the local prison he took in lieu of actually doing time there. I don't wish this on him – it's just a feeling I have.
How could I top the Pinhead experience?
The Hungarians – that's how...............