November 22. Tuesday Night.

Hi Journey.

I had a great day despite the ugly fact that I cost us that RFP. I was in by 6 this morning, tidied up the stockroom where we keep all the old fabric swatches and extra carpet remnants I gave the shelves a good dusting, vacuumed the rug, and swept the hallway.

I butted in on a call with Vivian and Dana. Of course I asked permission first, Journey. But what were they going to say? No thanks, boss, we can handle it better without you? Don't think so.

Dana actually took the lead on this one. The client was a guy, for a change. Mr. Ron Nebels. He was a numbers man; wanted to know the yardage of the carpet, the square feet of area they were going to paint, the % of rayon in the fabric on his new couch. Vivian told me he is the EVP of procurement for an electric fence factory. He set out to make us to prove our worth.

Fortunately, Dana was well equipped for the task.

Dana answered every question professionally and courteously. She is nearly as quick with numbers as Joni. And the first time he asked her for the numbers I saw her lean over and reach into her briefcase to pull out that ten key. For a brief second the dining room table where we sat hid Dana from Mr. Nebels' view, but not from mine. Dana deftly unbuttoned just one extra button on her blouse, and then tactically placed her ten key two inches past her easy reach.

She continually shifted from showing him swatches to keying numbers on the portable calculator. She had to stretch out across the table ever so slightly to run her fingers across its keys, so that she was inclined almost parallel to the table as she ran the numbers and cross checked her math.

She was still in her power suit; and while Dana isn't heartily endowed the line on her blouse was open just teasingly enough that every time Mr. Purchasing Agent asked for another number and our Dana bent over to tap it out on the keys just enough of her chest surface area was exposed that Mr. Nebels' eyes jitterbugged back and forth from her long nails on the ten key to her blouse to her hair...a couple wisps of which had fallen down and dangled lazily in front of her face while she spoke.

We won the business. And when we left Mr. Nebels was even talking about adding on to his kitchen, too.

Dad would've been proud.

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