Friday, 5:30 pm

It was a dark and stormy night. Everyone had expected the Amalgamated deal to close. Development was staffed. The proposal was spot-on. But when we got the call, it was like getting bad news at a funeral. No one was going to be celebrating tonight.

As I held her closely, all I could feel was her heartbeat, and all I could hear was the sound of her sobbing. Her kids weren't going to get that vacation at the Jersey shore. And her husband wasn't going to get that sleek new Beemer he'd been eyeing - the midnight blue 3-Series with Sirius satellite radio and the M-sport trim. No, he was going to have to keep driving that old beater of his. What was it? A Volvo or something? I couldn't remember.

But for me, all I could think about was Frank. He's the one who told me about this deal. He's the one who said that if we signed up for his leads service, we'd hear about projects that would fit us perfectly. Early, too. And we'd be one of only five vendors to get the lead, at worst, six. Or maybe it was eight. Sure. That's it.

Well, all it took was one. One knucklehead who was willing to go low. Five hundred bucks for the lead, and what? They buy on price? 

I'm out of here.