12th Class Ka Sex Desire
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12th GradeChapter 10 free porn video
Tuesday morning, a little bit before seven o'clock, Joyce pulled into the employee parking lot. She got out of her car, and a young man slid over behind the steering wheel, and backed out of the parking space before driving away.
"That's my brother, Jack. I'm letting him use my car today, so he can look for work. He just got out of the Air Force last month." This was all information she volunteered to me before she got into my car to drive out to the Bolling airport. We were scheduled to fly up to Omaha before eight o'clock. It was also the longest, non-work related statement she'd ever made in my presence. "This is a nice car, Mr. Parsons. It's almost new, isn't it?"
"Yes. I got it new last year, for my birthday. A gift from my parents." She had reached out and ran her hands along the leather seat covers, touching the chrome and paneling on the dash as well. The car she had arrived in was an older Oldsmobile. I had noticed that it was smoking from the exhaust as she had pulled up in it earlier. It was also badly dented on the driver's side, and a little rusted on the left wheel well. I'd noticed that much when she had pulled into the lot.
"I'm going to save up and buy myself a new car one of these days. My car keeps breaking down, and I spend a lot of money, just having someone fix it enough to where it runs for me again."
"Would you like me to ask my father to lease you a new car? A company car, but one you could use for personal things also. It could be that bonus I was asking him about."
"That would be too much. I thought you were talking about a fifty or hundred dollar bonus, and that would be a lot to me."
"Joyce, what you've done is worth a lot more to the company than a hundred dollars. You should have heard Dad bragging about you to my mother at dinner last night. He's really excited about what you've come up with. These are the things that really get him excited. You need to start thinking more of what you have to offer a company like ours. You have a real gift, and my Dad recognizes that now. He really understands the importance of having good people working with him. Would you like a big car like this one, or something smaller, like a Mustang or a Camaro?"
"I'd like a big one like this one, something that's full sized. People always think I'd like something small because I'm so small, but it's really just the opposite. For once, I'd like to drive a big, new, powerful car, one just like this one."
I pulled off to the side of the road and turned off the ignition. I got out and walked around the back of my car. By the time I opened the passenger side door, Joyce had already scooted over behind the wheel and was adjusting the power seats forward and raising the back up closer to vertical. By the time she was finished adjusting the mirrors, her seat was as far forward as it could get, and she still had to sit a little forward in her seat, just to reach the gas and brake pedals. She drove us out to the airport, following my directions when we were inside, so that she was able to drive over to where the company plane was being pre-flighted by the pilot. I showed her where to park, and she managed things perfectly. She was positively beaming when she handed my car keys back to me.
Once we boarded the plane, I took her up to the cockpit and introduced her to the pilot. There were three or four pilots we used, and this one was named Dick, and he was a salesman for an insurance company who only moonlighted as a pilot. The company we used for maintenance and for providing us with pilots, hired quite a few part time people, but they also had full time pilots and mechanics as well. Dick had been a pilot in the Navy, but had kept up his flying after he left the service. I left Joyce up in the co-pilot's chair with Dick, and went back to take my seat in the rear. I could tell, from the way Joyce kept moving around and watching everything, that she was fascinated with flying on a non-commercial flight. I had been like that too, the first few times I flew in the plane. Flying was a lot more interesting in a smaller plane, more personal.
Once we got to Omaha, we were picked up by Virginia and driven over to the Lucas Company. It was less than ten minutes from the airport. I hadn't expected Virginia to be the one to pick us up, but she said she had spoken with my father, and he had asked her to explain further about the new plant capacity, now that they were operating with two shifts, and for her to give us a briefing about her father's expansion schedule for all the new vending machines we were getting.
For the past eight months, the vending machine production had kept growing faster than anyone had anticipated. Rather than sell any machines that had been produced in excess of our current needs, my father and Rob Lucas had decided to simply increase their sales goals for placing the new machines.
I already knew this policy was giving Shirley's father a lot of grief. As soon as Mr. Jones made the necessary adjustments for the number of sales trainees he was supposed to hire and train, my father or Rob would call him and give him a whole new number, telling him that he needed to plan for meeting this new goal, and have the sales people ready to start, as close as possible to what the new schedule called for.
From talking to Shirley, I knew that her father was getting very frustrated and upset. He complained that he needed more lead time to gear up for any new requirements, and that my father and Rob were being very unreasonable forcing him to abandon his carefully crafted plan to have a sales force ready to open new vending locations.
In a way, all these changes made it look like Mr. Jones was moving too slow. I knew this wasn't fair to him though. I'd even spoken to him several times about what was involved in the hiring and training process. It was a lot more complicated than I had first thought. One of the things I'd needed to remind my father of, was that Mr. Jones had reached every hiring and training objective given to him, as long as he was allowed a reasonable time to get prepared for the new quota.
I knew my father had planned on speaking to Mr. Jones, to tell him that he knew he was doing a great job, but, somehow, he hadn't gotten around to it yet. I was worried that Mr. Jones might decide that it was a no win situation for him, and possibly be unhappy enough about how things were going to make him want to quit.
I didn't want that to happen, not wanting to risk Shirley having to move away. I knew that might happen if her father quit the company, and took a new job somewhere else.
I also thought he was doing a terrific job with the hiring and training of our new sales people. If he wasn't as flexible and adaptable as my father might like him to be, that was probably because he was the one who kept having to scuttle all his old plans, the ones he'd spent a lot of time thinking about and developing, only to have to start out all over again, every time the new manpower requirements were adjusted upward.
After Virginia filled us in, I phoned my father and reminded him that he needed to do something about Mr. Jones. I also told him that I thought a company leased car for Joyce would represent a nice bonus for her. At first, he had problems with the idea of putting a new employee, filling a temporary position, in a bracket that he usually kept reserved for his department heads, or other, even higher, company employees. When I reminded him of what Joyce had discovered though, he gave me permission to see to it. He gave me the name and phone number of the man who arranged for the company auto leases.
"Kenny, what kind of car does Ron drive, do you know?"
"Not really. I know it's a dark four door that looks fairly new though. Maybe a Buick?"
"Do you think he would like a company car too?"
"I don't know. Why not call him and find out what he'd like as a reward for a job well done? It never hurts to ask directly, and I'm sure it would make him feel good to know you recognize all the effort he's given, and the results he's achieved. Having the ideas are one thing, being the one responsible for getting the idea turned into reality, that can be a lot more difficult. This is especially true when people keep changing things on you."
"I'll call him today. I'll invite him out to lunch and we'll talk. I was already planning on giving him a nice raise. You're right though, because I've noticed a certain tension whenever I'm on the phone with him lately. Rob noticed it too, and made a comment about it. Do you really think he feels under-appreciated?"
"I don't think he's used to being pushed so hard, or to be given new goals every other week or so. It might be better if you tell him to just hire and train as many as he can, until you tell him to slow it down. You might also think about giving him some people to assist him. Shirley told me that he's been working late every night, and that her mom doesn't like it. He's already producing about three times the number of sales people that you told him he'd need to produce when you first hired him. Why not let him hire two or three people to help him, and tell him to cut back on his work schedule?"
"How about a nice raise, a company lease car and one new assistant? I'm not sure hiring a whole raft of new people is the answer for Ron's problem."
"No, but cutting back on his hours would help with Mrs. Jones, and you know he'd be likely to work better if his wife is happy at home. It is better to hire one too many than one too few when we're into such a large expansion. You said yourself that we were thinking too small about this vending business."
"All right, I'm convinced. How are you going to make your approach to the railroad?"
"Joyce is on another line right now, getting an appointment with the woman she spoke with yesterday. We're going to be borrowing Virginia's car, and driving over as soon as Joyce sets something up."
"Remember, you can't sign anything that obligates the company. This is simply a fact finding trip to get them to present us with a written proposal that spells out all the terms of the offered contract. You can ask them for enhancements, but don't commit to anything on your own."
"I think I knew that already, Dad. We're going to see what they offer us, and then try to explore anything else that they have as far as shipping programs that might pertain to us. Whatever they give us, we bring it back to you. Suppose they don't have anything ready for us today, do we stay here until they do?"
"Play it by ear for right now, Kenny. I'll be in my office here all day. Call me as soon as you know something, and we'll decide what to do then."
Joyce got us an appointment with Mildred Taylor, the personal assistant to Floyd Rollins, who was the sales director for the Omaha office of the railroad. Mr. Rollins was also in charge of "National Accounts" for the Omaha based railroad line. One problem Joyce had faced was the fact that Mr. Rollins was out of town for the next few days, and would be unable to meet with us. When she told me we had an appointment with Mr. Rollins secretary, I was a little bit disappointed.
Mildred Taylor was a large woman, in her early fifties, She had dark hair that was riddled through with gray, a pleasant, open face, and eyes that seemed to bore right through you. After a minute or two spent in her company, you sensed you were in the presence of a powerful woman. She was only of medium height, about five foot four or so, but, because she was so large, she looked taller. Her father had worked for the railroad she told us, and she was carrying on the family tradition. When we got there, she ushered us into a nice, wood paneled office, and the name plate on the door was her own. One look at her office, and my first thought was to wonder what kind of secretary had or deserved these trappings and appointments. None had them in our company, that was for sure.
"Joyce, you are just like I pictured you. Who's this young man with you?" Mrs. Taylor was giving me a frank appraisal and the once over with her eyes. I found that a little bit intimidating.
"This is Mr. Parsons, my boss." I could see that Joyce was blushing a little, taken aback by the way Mildred Taylor was assuming control of the meeting. I jumped right in to try to make it easier for Joyce.
"Kenny Parsons, Ms. Taylor, I'm pleased to meet you." I put my hand out to shake hands with her. She didn't hesitate in taking my hand and giving it a few strong pumps. Then she walked over and shook with Joyce too.
"Your boss? Really?" She turned to me, an amused glint in her eye. "Are you really her boss?" From the way she said it, I concluded she thought I was too young to be anyone's boss.
"No, not really. We work together, but she really works for my Dad. He runs our company. He sent me along to make sure Joyce had whatever she needed to get the information my Dad wanted."
"I see. You came just for some information then? You didn't come here to sign a shipping contract with us?" I still felt like she was testing me. I wondered whether she had already done some research on our company. Maybe she already knew a lot more about us than we knew about her.
"We fully expect to sign a contract with you very soon. Of course, after everything is prepared and negotiated, we'll have to take it back to my father to get it signed and approved." I wanted to sound like I was serious, that we weren't there to waste any of her time.
"How many rail cars will you be needing from us, Joyce?" I knew it was deliberate on her part, deciding to direct her inquiries at Joyce. Still, for all of that, I was happy that she had decided that we were legitimate enough for her to spend some more of her time with.
"I think from a minimum of one hundred cars, to as much as six hundred. I was told to get a sliding scale rate based on how many rail cars we end up needing. What rate would we be paying if we ended up using four hundred this year?" I sat there, just listening to the two of them talking. I was enjoying the interplay, as each made a statement before ending with a question,
"As I told you yesterday, having a shipping contract for one hundred or more cars in that contract year, entitles you to a discount off of our single car rates. Currently, that discount is forty-five per cent, but it is always subject to review and change. Anything greater than one hundred cars, we'd need to negotiate with you. Four hundred cars, we'd be willing to discount an additional five per cent off of our single car rate. Would you be willing to commit to using four hundred cars?"
"We're very interested in securing the storage capability that using rail would make available to us. The better the rate to us, the more we'd be willing to divert from our normal trucking contracts. The closer we get to price parity with trucking rates, the more inclined we'd be to ship by rail. If we did commit to four hundred cars during the first year of this contract, can you guarantee the discount rate you just quoted for the entire year, and would this also mean that we'd have storage options on up to one hundred rail cars?"
"If we signed a contract for four hundred, we'd guarantee our rates for the first year. Yes, you'd have access to one hundred cars, but only if they were going to be shipped out within thirty days of loading and storage with us. We don't care that much about cars sitting at your siding, but, once we have them back in our yard, we want to be sure they are leaving as part of a shipment. Thirty days is our hard and fast limit. Is it true that you're taking Lucas Company national, and that you're expanding to six times your current production?"
I jumped in then. I knew my father wouldn't want us discussing company expansion plans with Mrs. Taylor.
"We're in a growth phase right now, trying to integrate our four companies together. No fixed goals have been arrived at. Our stock isn't currently being publicly traded."
"Are you planning on floating an IPO?"
"I don't know. My Dad hasn't said anything about it. As far as I know, we don't need new capital."
"This is my railroad, Mr. Parsons, and I make most of the contract decisions here. Floyd Rollins is my husband, but it's my railroad. We'd like to have a lot more of your shipping business, and you'll find we'll be more than willing to work with you to make your new roll out a success. Tell me what you need, and I'll tell you if we can do it."
I wasn't really that surprised, not after meeting her, observing and talking with her for the last fifteen minutes. She had an attitude that screamed out that she was a strong, high powered, executive. She had been comfortable taking charge of our meeting. I remembered what my father had told me about listening and not committing to anything. He had been serious when he said it, and I knew this had been another test for me. The deal being offered was so good, I knew my father would approve it without asking for a single change.
"My father will sign your contract as soon as we bring it to him. I don't think he'll ask for anything more than you're already offering. How much further are you prepared to go to get this contract signed?" She laughed when I asked her that. Not a genteel, ladylike, laugh. This was a vibrant and robust laugh, one that started in the stomach and exploded through the mouth. It was as loud as a barking seal, and just as spontaneous and unrestrained.
"We'll work with you on bringing partially loaded cars up from our yard to your siding, and then back to our yard, as long as you keep it within reasonable limits. We'll route you priority, at no extra charge, on some shipments where time has become a critical issue for you. If you get up to that six hundred cars you spoke of as your upper limit, we'll rebate an additional two percent on every car load you've shipped through us for the first years contract. You also have my word that I'll work with you on any succeeding contracts. Right now, I can really use any additional business I can generate. I don't forget the good things I've gotten like some carriers would. You can also use our clerks, on site here, to coordinate and process your national rail shipping needs. We'll keep track of everything you've got moving, on any track in America. How's that?"
It was my turn to break out in a big smile. I turned to Joyce. "How does that sound to you, Joyce?"
Joyce looked at both of us. It was plain that she was very happy that things were going so well. Already, what we'd been told exceeded what we had hoped for.
"When can you get the contract ready for us to take back?" Joyce had turned her attention back to Mrs. Taylor when she asked that.
"We have a boiler plate all ready. All we need to do is fill in the blank spaces. I can have it ready for you sometime tomorrow morning. I could have it finished and express it over to the head office in Bolling tomorrow too. You would get it before close of business.
"Can I phone my father and ask him which he'd prefer?" I wanted to call my father anyway. I knew he'd be anxious to hear from me. These were the fun parts for him, making the deals that made it easier for him to do what he wanted to do anyway. I called my father and outlined the whole deal to him, from my memory. He asked me about fifteen questions, trying to clarify everything in his mind. I also told him that Mrs. Taylor wasn't really a secretary, she was the one who made all the decisions. "Dad, should we stay here and wait for the contract to be ready, or should we come home this afternoon and let her express it to us?"
"Virginia has a situation she needs some help with. You might want to speak with her about it, and see if you can be of any help to her. You'd need to stay up in Omaha if you were going to try to help her with it." My father laughed when I told him we'd talk to Virginia. "Don't forget to bring that contract with you when you come home tomorrow, Kenny. Tell Mrs. Taylor that I'll sign it and express it back to her as soon as I get a chance to read it over. Tell her I look forward to doing a lot of business with her."
I told Mrs. Taylor what my father had told me to tell her, and Joyce and I left. She promised to have the contract ready for us to pick up anytime after eleven the next morning. Riding back to the Lucas Company, I'm not sure who was more excited, Joyce or me. When we got back, we went straight to Virginia and asked her what the problem was that she needed our help with.
"It isn't really a problem, Kenny. Dad is out of town again, and I'm supposed to be taking care of his house for him, feeding his dogs, and making sure that everything is all right over there. It only takes fifteen minutes to do that, but it's a forty minute drive over to his place, each way. There was something I really wanted to do tonight, and I was just telling your dad that I couldn't do it because I didn't have anyone else to take care of the dogs for me. He sort of hinted that you'd volunteer to do it for me if I asked you to. I know it's an imposition for me to even ask you, but it would really help me out if you would do it. You could use Dad's truck, and Bruno and Gehrig both know you already, so they wouldn't get too excited if you opened up the front door and looked after them." I could see that whatever she needed to do was important to her. She would have never asked if it hadn't been. I was a little surprised that she didn't tell me what it was she wanted to do, but, I knew I shouldn't ask her about it.
"Sure, no problem. Joyce and I were staying over tonight anyway, to pick up a shipping contract tomorrow morning. Can you call over to the Hilton, and tell them Joyce and I will be spending the night there tonight? We'll be needing two rooms."
Virginia surprised me with a hug, thanking me for doing the favor for her. She told me that she'd prepare a map for me, then showed me which key from her dad's car key ring opened his front door. I told her we'd take her dad's truck to the hotel for the night, and bring it back in the morning. She told me she'd call the Hilton and reserve the rooms.
Joyce and I left, taking her father's truck, looking for a good place to have some lunch. I told Joyce when we were leaving, that I'd give her a grand tour of the baking factory, and then take her over to the new warehouse, so that she could better picture it in the future.
We both had steak for lunch, with French fries and fresh bread to dip in the sauce that they heaped on our plates. At lunch, I spoke with Joyce for the first time about my idea to have her stay on as my Dad's intern after I left to go back to school. I could tell that my idea had caught her completely unprepared. When I told her how good I thought she was at doing the job, I could tell that she really appreciated the praise. I got the feeling, that Joyce hadn't been exposed to very much approval or praise while growing up.
Kierra
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