Light and Shadows

By Michael Porter

In this dark comedy, Ezra Gentile, a mid-40s sales manager, goes to work for a tight-fisted, selfish owner, Howard Goodson, to manage Thoroughgood Studios, a faltering chain of family-owned Milwaukee wedding photography studios. Goodson wants to expand the chain, putting Gentile under enormous pressure to increase sales. And yet, the foundation of the wedding business -- the dream of everlasting love -- is to Ezra a sham. A messy divorce has left him cynical and fearful about romance.

Ezra’s efforts to train the existing sales force are generally rejected. This often results in hilarious situations, like the outraged mother of the bride who accuses the studio of “fartography,” because their “work stinks!” Ezra discovers he has joined the photo studio from hell.

Ezra’s personal life is in shambles, and his divorce has left him with large debts. He has long given up on his own dreams of love. Ezra owes money to his ex-wife. During a visit to help her with a home repair, she falls, hits her head, and lapses into a coma, blamed on Ezra’s clumsy efforts to revive her. The police suspect he tried to kill her to save on alimony, and Ezra is dogged by an annoyingly inquisitive detective.

Paradoxically, Ezra’s ongoing spiritual discussions with a co-worker gives him a new perspective on his ex’s coma. He also has a series of strange, visionary dreams while asleep. Ezra slowly re-examines his relationships and questions the direction of his life.

When a rogue financier with reputed gangland ties in Vegas, tries to take over the studio, Ezra Gentile discovers personal resources he was not aware he possessed. Finally seizing control of his own dreams and fears, Ezra regains the mysterious woman he thought had been lost to him forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Porter
• Release date: Apr 22, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301912599

Michael Porter

I'm a sales person by day, and I wrote for fun.

Book preview

About the Author

Michael I Porter is an entrepreneur who has had experiences in many industries, including the photography business. Light and Shadows is his first novel. He lives in Norfolk, VA.

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Table of Contents

About the Author

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 1

Maybe today was going to be different.

I got to the Southgate Truly Lovely Bridal Store about 3:50 in the afternoon, ten minutes before the studio was scheduled to open. It looked like the parking lot had been recently blacktopped, and the smell of asphalt, with its petroleum base notes, slammed against my nostrils. The store was in a big box shopping center with a Best Buy and Home Depot and a strip of small shops. I got out of my car and noticed the sky was a light grey, with dark clouds bunching toward the west - maybe snow.

The lights were soft against the beige carpet and as I walked to the rear of the store through the smell of lavender, I admired the brides in various states of undress. The Thoroughgood ‘studio’ was simply a muted pink desk, chair and DVD player with monitor, and a wedding portrait hanging on the wall. The studios are always in the rear of the store. I was hired to help build sales, not for my knowledge of wedding photography; I don’t even own a camera. I remember the photographs of my wedding, but they are gone now. My ex-wife gave me a very attractive vase containing their shredded remains at our divorce hearing. The vase was inscribed, ‘Please Die’.

I don’t bother introducing myself to any of the help. I tell the manager, a tough looking woman with a chain of keys around her neck at the front desk, that I’m the new Thoroughgood sales manager and as we exchange cards she wishes me luck.

Hey. The new salesman for this location, Rick Ramondino, walked toward me. He put his briefcase on top of the studio desk and pulled out of a pile of papers. Rick, about six feet tall and in his late twenties, stared at the paperwork and simultaneously tried to adjust his shirt by tucking it into his pants. I let the guys wear either a jacket and no tie or no jacket and a tie. It’s important not to be too formal with the customers. Rick has elected for the no jacket look. After two tries, his shirt remains half in and half out of his pants and his belly overhung his belt. He ran his hands through his hair. At the very top of the papers was a report entitled Thirty Day Evaluation.

Rick, it’s bigger pants or smaller belly. I smiled, but he ignored my comment.

Mr. Gentile, started Rick, can we talk about my evaluation? Rick sat down in the chair behind the desk, as if dropped out of the sky.

Sure. I answered in a noncommittal tone. When is your first appointment?

About four or so, we have a few minutes. He picked up the evaluation and passed it across the desk. Why am I characterized as a socializer?

Well, let’s see. I sat down on the front of the sales desk, and picked up the report, slowly leafing through it. Howard told me he thought Rick was a lousy salesperson but that it was my decision what to do with him. I had already read this report and knew a lot about Rick, but now I had to be a sales manager and encourage him like a little autistic kid who I knew would never be right but I wanted so much for him to act like other kids whose brains worked; sure you can do it, sure don’t worry, you will fit in, sure you’re special.

First of all, Howard did this report, not me, but that being said, according to the system, we have four choices – you’re a director, a relater, a thinker, or a socializer.

Rick looked upward and sighed.

I pause. I’ve only known you for a week. A relater is someone who is emotionally oriented. When Howard called you a fat pig at the meeting last week you didn’t cry, so you are not a relater. Also, based on our conversation when we first met, I’m pretty sure you’re not a thinker. Rick looked away but did not protest. So that leaves director or socializer.

Rick sheepishly responded, Yes.

So, I continued, since Howard believes you can’t sell, and since we know that selling requires director skills, that must mean you’re a socializer. You are outgoing and gregarious, people like you, you make jokes; you’re a socializer. This makes you a weak salesperson unless you have strong director characteristics. I leafed through the report.

Rick stood up out of his chair and walked around the desk. I know, I know, he sighed. According to Throughgood Studios, there’s a problem with most socializers. A hard-core socializer generally can’t close a sale because, and Rick began to whine, we don’t have the killer instinct. This killer instinct usually comes from a director orientation. I have to be assertive, I have to be a little bit of a thief to sell, and this applies to wedding photography, too. I have to want my client’s money more than they do; I can’t empathize with them at all. Rick began to wave his arms and raise his voice, They’re selling you or you’re selling them, someone was going to win and someone was going to lose and good salesmen win more than they lose.

I clapped and deadpanned, You’ve won my vote for the Oscar.

I’m only booking twenty-five percent of my appointments. Rick looked down as he said this. I have to get better.

Look, just hang in there. I’m here to help you. We all go through tough periods. Howard must have seen something of a sales maven when he hired you. Your fiancé stills loves ya, doesn’t she?

Rick looked down, dejected. She’s been out of town on business for a week and won’t be back until tomorrow.

Hmm, I said, not making money and no girl friend around - reminds me of my life. You’re getting married in a few weeks aren’t you? He smiled and started to respond when a store employee walked up and announced that Rick’s appointment had arrived.

I waived. Send them back. I looked at Rick. I’ll watch you from over there. Don’t worry, the worst that can happen is I’ll fire you. I smiled.

I stood behind a dress rack situated to the right and behind the chairs where the customers sat. I’m close enough to hear the conversation, yet still remain out of sight.

Rick greeted the couple as they walked up to his desk. Hello, Cathy, John.

He knew their names from the appointment sheet that telemarketing faxed to him. The couple was in their twenties, are both in sweat suits, and as they sit down a young blond woman walked up. This is my sister, Ellen, said Cathy. Ellen was carrying a baby carrier, and I saw a very young baby inside, cooing softly. Ellen seemed pretty young to be a mother.

They’re having their reception at a small banquet hall in South Milwaukee and their wedding at a Catholic Church, about 20 minutes from the hall. As Rick began to inquire about their knowledge of wedding photography, the baby cried, and all eyes moved to the child. Ellen pulled a small empty milk bottle out of her bag. As he was still establishing rapport, Rick didn’t say a word; he knew better than to inquire about Ellen’s parenting style. I noticed I was having a few hunger pains myself as I had not had time to eat before I got to the studio.

Rick looked at the short information form that Cathy filled out. I see you‘ve been shopping, Rick said. What are you looking for that you didn’t find earlier? This was a key question to determine client motivation. If they’re still shopping, they must not have found what they wanted, or be looking for something in particular, probably a cheaper price. If they give him a clue, Rick can sell to that point and hopefully book the sale. Suddenly, however, there was a loud cry, and again, all eyes moved to the baby. Ellen picked up the child and patted it on the back and Rick got a clear look at the child.

I hate to ask this, but is that a real baby? As the words blurted from his mouth, he turned just a little red.

Oh, no, said Cathy. My sister is taking a parenting class at high school and as part of the curriculum she is required to care for a child for forty-eight hours straight. This is an electronic doll and there is a chip inside of her; well I say her, as that is what she is anatomically; they also have boy dolls and…

I have to take care of her all weekend, interrupted Ellen. If I don’t pick her up and feed her within a few minutes of her crying, the computer makes a note and this could hurt my grade. I have to take real good care of, well, she lowered her voice, I call her Christina. She’s my little girl. Ellen played softly with the doll’s hair.

Rick smiled. I understand. What a wonderful experience for a young woman like you. They didn’t have those when I went to school. The girls I knew had to carry an egg all weekend and make sure it didn’t break. We were low tech back then.

Rick looked lost. He finally continued. I see you are still shopping. Can I ask what you are looking for that you didn’t find?

Sure, said Cathy. We were not happy with the other photographers for lots of reasons. First of all… Cathy never finished her sentence because little electronic Christina starting crying again. Ellen got very upset.

Dammit, dammit, dammit, Ellen said, in a voice dripping with frustration. She needs to be changed again. Ellen picked up the baby and put her on the desk in front of Rick, took off all the baby’s clothes and pulled a diaper from her pocketbook. I like the Pampers because they have these little flaps on the side that give more leak protection, Ellen proclaimed.

I couldn’t help but look in wonder, leak protection against what?

Rick looked at the baby How cute. Cathy looked up at him with a shaming look, as if to say you dirty man, you dirty pervert. Rick was looking at the anatomically correct part of the ‘baby’. He looked away.

Ellen changed the diaper, after what seemed an eternity, put Christina in her arms, and sat back down. The baby, for the first time, seemed relatively content. A little food and a bathroom trip usually did wonders for me, too.

Cathy and John seemed convinced of the value of Thoroughgood. Rick worked his way through most of the presentation with baby Christina crying on and off. Ellen put Christina into and took her out of the baby carrier several times. Rick was ready to present the prices when baby Christina let out a really loud cry. Ellen picked her up and began to rock her, but it didn’t seem to work, as Christina just kept on wailing and wailing.

Cathy suggested that she help out but Ellen protested. It has to be me. This is my class, but the baby didn’t stop.

I looked at Rick and he was shaking. A woman tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to move from behind the dress rack because she wanted to look at the merchandise. I heard Rick yell, TURN THE DAMN THING OFF, IT’S NOT REAL!

When I turned back around, I saw Rick grab for Christina and pull an arm off. Ellen turned away with the baby in her hand when Rick struck again, and the baby’s head detached from the poor child’s body, floated through the air and passed through the uprights of a nearby dress rack. Rick seemed to be grabbing for an on/off switch, but in the melee, grabbed the remaining arm and a leg when John pushed him back against the wall behind the desk.

It looked like there was going to be a fight, so I jumped from behind the dress rack and surveyed the scene. Everyone was screaming, including little Christina, who was making this mechanical screeching noise, despite her dismemberment and decapitation. Thank God there was no blood - maybe the leak protection kicked in. I tried to restore order but John pushed me away. As Cathy, John, and Ellen picked up the body parts, they yelled, cursed and shouted to Rick who was slumped behind the desk on the floor. They stuffed baby Christina’s torso, arms, legs and head in a Truly Lovely store bag, and John shouted something about lawyers. He ushered the women immediately out of the store through a throng of onlookers.

I sat on the desk and extended my arm to Rick on the floor.

Maybe a little more socializing could have helped you there.

Rick put his head in his hands.

CHAPTER 2

I really needed this job.

Thoroughgood Studio’s main office is located on Brown Deer Road in Fox Point, a small, sleepy suburb along Lake Michigan, north of Milwaukee. Just one week ago, I’m waiting in the lobby when the owner, Howard Goodson, enters the front door, nods and disappears down a few steps to his right, into his office. Not a hello, not a good morning, just a nod, and he has a sort of self-satisfied smile on his face, like he knows a secret that you don’t.

It’s 10:45 in the morning - my appointment was at ten. In the small lobby of the studio there are three tables with three chairs each. The tables are square, covered with pinkish Formica, and the chairs plain plastic and metal. There are stains in the ceiling from what looks like a leak, and the blue carpet is tattered in places.

When I first visited this office, the only location not within a Truly Lovely Bridal store, for my first meeting with Howard, Marlene, the main salesperson, was sitting at her desk just off the lobby. Marlene, how long have you been married? She got up and walked toward me.

Thirty-six years, why? she answered.

I pointed to the beautiful panoramic wedding pictures on the walls and in the window - couples staring into each other’s eyes, standing under gazebos, in flowered atriums, on beautiful bridges or standing under archways – odes to a love I did not quite understand.

After thirty-six years do you still believe in the dream represented by these pictures - eternal love and devotion? She pulled up one of the chairs at the desk in front of me and sat down.

Is marriage tough and do we lose our hope sometimes and wonder why we are with another person? Yes, but I do believe in the dream, my marriage is very important to me and I love my husband dearly…most of the time. She smiled.

I walked over to one of the pictures on the wall and pointed at it as I spoke. Well, these pictures are all so majestic and idealistic, they play off the dream that relationships are forever and love conquers all. I think love is just a word we use to get another person to do our bidding. ‘Oh honey I love you’ lasts as long as the other person is what I want them to be and they fulfill my needs.

Marlene stood up and put her hands on her hips. You sound like every other divorced guy I know, bitter and turned off by relationships. Love is a feeling for another person, it’s about the connection you have together. If you met the right person, I’m sure you’d change your mind.

Well, I said, my ex-wife was the wrong person. Love is just a sales tool, like greed for stockbrokers, vanity for car dealers, and anger for politicians. It’s just a tool to motivate the opposite sex and a way to motivate women to buy wedding photography.

Marlene got up and looked at the picture in front of me. It showed a couple staring into each other’s eyes, sitting on a low, long rock wall with a large gazebo in the background. The lighting was soft and the woman’s wedding dress had a long trane slung down the wall, which drew your eye to their faces.

She turned around. "Look Ezra, I’ve been in this business a long time. Yes, the bridal business is built on love and dreams, but it’s an honest tradition. Every bride, including me, imagined her wedding day a million times. She planned it out to the smallest detail, the dress, the ceremony, the guests, and the food. She did this since she was a young girl, sitting around with her friends, playing house with her dolls, awaiting her knight in shining armor.

She picks a date so she can reserve the church or synagogue, then she and her future husband figure out a budget and find a reception hall with availability on their prospective date. Once they get the hall, the next big decision for the bride is her dress, and finally wedding photography, and yes, wedding photography is another part of their wedding day, when every dream comes true. It’s all about love, Ezra, despite what you may think.

Howard suddenly calls at the top of the steps. Gentile come on down; let’s get started. Howard said it in an irritated way. My name is pronounced with a short (i) sound, like chile, but Goodson pronounced it with a long (i), as in non-Jew, though I am Jewish. My father’s mother had married an Italian who converted to Judaism and my mother was Jewish. I walked into Howard’s office and sat down in one of two chairs facing his desk.

I’ve gone over the results of the test I gave you last week. Howard adjusted the thermostat on the wall and took a seat behind his desk. He was in his forties, thin and wiry, and about five-ten, with a slight stoop in his shoulders. He had the look of a greyhound with brown hair and a few flecks of gray. Attached to his office was a small conference room, and papers were piled everywhere.

Let me show you my chart. Goodson reached in his desk drawer and pulled out a ragged edge piece of paper and handed it to me across the desk. The graph showed an almost straight line going on a diagonal from the top left corner of the graph to the bottom right hand corner.

As you can see, started Howard, my chart goes from high ‘D’ to low ‘S’. ‘D’ stands for dominance. It measures assertiveness, ‘I’ stands for influence, or people skills, ‘S’ stands for the ability to follow directions, your steadiness, and ‘C’ represents conscientiousness, the ability to be organized and follow up. This test is a tool for understanding selling types and styles. I have what we call Big D. Now let’s look at your chart.

Goodson shuffled some papers on his desk, and handed me another chart.

I shook my head. I thought you measured this last week. You told me I was a director and thinker.

That’s a different test, which is good, but this is my threshold test. Now on your chart, he continued, you also have high ‘D’, though not as high as mine. However, you have a higher ’I’ than I do. In fact your chart goes from high ‘D’ to higher ‘I’, while my chart goes in a straight line; both of our ‘S’s are low, while your ‘C’ goes up, showing a higher level of organization than my chart. Do you know what your chart means?

I’m hoping it means I’m getting the job. I figure if it was bad, you wouldn’t have asked me back. I shifted in my chair in an attempt to warm myself. The room was getting colder as I sat and listened.

Howard retorted, Correctomundo Gentile. You’re not as dumb as you look. You’ve got sechel. You have an ideal salesperson’s chart – you’re assertive, yet a people person, and you have a measure of organizational skills, which means you can fill out paperwork. The little up tick in the chart under ‘C’ tells me you can do paperwork, and without that, I wouldn’t hire you. You also have an up tick under ‘I’, which means you actually like people, I only tolerate them.

You can tell all that from this chart? I asked. I put the paper on my lap and rubbed my hands together.

Howard smiled. "I have given this test many times, and I have learned to trust it. You see, Big D, dominance, is what every sales person says they have, but Big D is elusive, few people actually have it. It separates the men from the boys. I give every new sales person at Thoroughgood this test. To sell, you have to be assertive and you have to like people. If you’re not assertive, you can’t handle rejection. A high D signifies a large capacity to be strong-minded and strong-willed, to be a person who enjoys challenges, taking action, getting immediate results; someone who focuses on the bottom line. A Big D person does what it takes to close the sale, and without it you become a wimp when it comes time to get the customer’s money.

The problem is that I’ve had many sales people who had D and yet they still couldn’t sell wedding photography. There’s no question that a low D person can’t sell, but the opposite is not always true. There’s something intangible, and that’s where you come in Gentile.

I tried to smile but I thought my face was freezing up. Is this where you offer me the job? I stood to get circulation in my legs.

Are you chilly Gentile? I nodded and Howard stood to adjust the thermostat.

So you clearly understand, Gentile, continued Goodson, the sales guys are the backbone of this company and we need to hire and train people who can sell and who want to keep their job. I want to expand this company, so we have to broaden the type of people we hire. That’s going to be your job Gentile, maybe you can hire better than me. The guys we have now are all a bunch of victims, all they do is complain and complain. So you clearly understand, I hate them and they hate me. Let me repeat that, we hate each other. Did I tell you we hate each other? I can’t stand them and that’s why I’m hiring you Gentile; maybe you can fix things, and I won’t have to deal with them. Howard started to sit down, paused, and reached his hand across the desk without looking up. Congratulations, you’ve got the job.

CHAPTER 3

Monday morning was meeting day at Thoroughgood Studios and the sales personnel slowly dragged themselves in for our 11:00 o’clock get-together. We meet in the main studio area, and Marlene was careful not to schedule early appointments on Monday. I stand and wait at a display table near the middle of the room.

I wonder what kind of crap we have to listen to today? Victor directed this question to no one in particular, though Rollo was within earshot. Probably good crap, though I wouldn’t know the difference, replied Rollo. Victor doesn’t respond. He had a very obvious hearing aid in one ear. He also doesn’t seem to care that I might overhear him.

Victor is the elder statesman at Thoroughgood. He’s 79, medium height, with a large nose, large ears, and a face that looks like a parched lake bed, with deep cracks going everywhere. He smelled old, like a musty basement, though he dressed smartly. What made Victor stand out was not his hearing aid, which looked like a small radio receiver sticking in his ear, not being a more modern ‘discreet’ hearing aid, but his comb over. Victor’s deep gray hair was combed over such that his part sat just above his ear on the left side of his head, and it lay on top of his head like road kill. When I look at him, I want to adjust it, like a crooked picture on the wall. Victor had been a sales manager at a printing supply wholesaler for most of his career. He traveled around Wisconsin, but was forced into retirement due to his age, and the numerous complaints from female employees about Victor’s gentle touches on their behinds and breasts.

All right everyone, let’s get started, I said. I want to go over the booking percentages for last week. Marlene has been nice enough to get the figures done for us on time.

A slight murmur beat around the room. Salesmen always feel they are better than the numbers. A booking refers to a customer signing a contract with Thoroughgood, and the percentages represent the number of people signed to the number of people pitched. I had studied the records from past weeks, and Marlene was at the top as usual, while Georgette was at the bottom as usual. Everyone else was scattered around fifty percent, except for Rick and Victor who were both around twenty-five percent, barely above Georgette.

Look, I told you guys before that I won’t evaluate you just by the numbers. They do show a trend, and some of you are consistently better bookers than others. You might actually learn something if you pay more attention to the guys with higher numbers.

There was a buzzing noise in the room, and I looked around as it sounded like some kind of large insect. I realized that Victor was adjusting his hearing aid.

Victor spoke up. Ezra, I’m just not getting the traffic at Capital East. Now I could do a lot better if I had the traffic, but without customers I can’t ever get great numbers. Marlene and Dave have a lot of customers, the odds are better.

That’s true, I responded, but your percentages have gradually declined and your traffic has not changed much. Last year at this time, I picked up a pile of papers and leafed through them, you had a forty-five percent booking percentage. Now it’s twenty-nine percent, and that’s a big difference, both for the company and for your pocketbook.

Victor continued. The customers just don’t have any money. My customers never seem to have the extra cash for wedding photography. By the time they get to me, they are out of cash, and photography is not much of a priority. We need cheaper packages.

Dave O’Malley chimed in. There’s no difference in the customers. Victor, you’re stale. Come over and watch me, I’ll show you how to close.

What, Victor said. I didn’t get the last thing you said. What about the males?

Dave shook his head and fell silent. Everyone knew that the reason Victor was probably not closing was because he probably couldn’t hear the customers most of the time. He either didn’t hear them or his hair scared them away.

I walked out to the center of the room. "When I took this job, Howard told me you guys are usually blaming someone or something else for your problems. Look, your performance has nothing to do with the customers. I have the numbers for the last five years. Business has increased about four to five percent per year, and the traffic in established studios has been fairly consistent. According to Howard, our marketing, our advertising, has also not changed much, so the only factor that I can see to account for the differences is the quality of the salesperson, as in Y-O-U.

"Look at