A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree (19 page)

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Authors: Janet Dailey

BOOK: A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree
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Chapter 11
F
inn was standing outside the ENJ flagship store, his neck wrapped in a thick muffler and his red hair concealed under a hat that more or less matched it. Nicole guessed from half a block away that his girlfriend, Janey, had knitted both for him and run out of yarn at some point. One end of the muffler was a different color and it didn’t match. She hurried to his side, keeping her thin pashmina scarf wrapped around her head and pressed to her mouth. The wind off the East River was bitingly cold.
She pulled the folds of the scarf down to say hello to him. “How come you’re not inside?”
“I was waiting for you,” he replied through his muffler. “I thought maybe you would have a few questions before we go in.”
Nicole nodded, feeling guilty. Finn’s feet had to be freezing, even in the heavy boots he wore. There was no friend like an old friend.
“Just a few. Real quick. Is anyone from the visual team at headquarters going to be here?”
“No. But I did hire your friend Sharon Levitt. ”
“Thanks!”
“She does good work. Even if she talks too much.”
“Is Kevin Talley coming in?”
“Not right away.”
She smiled and grasped the handle of the door, pulling it open. “How’d I get so lucky?”
“You’re not the only one. Talley’s assistant said I could choose your support team. Besides Sharon, I hired everyone who was there the other night. Good group. But they won’t be showing up until later tonight.”
Finn reached over her head to hold the door. She ducked under his arm and entered.
The store wasn’t open for business. Staff members and sales associates were milling around the coffeemaker, drinking from paper cups, then discarding them quickly.
“You’ve never done a morning meeting, right?”
“Nope.”
He pulled off his hat and his red hair stood on end with static electricity. Then he unwound the seemingly endless muffler. Nicole could see why Janey had run out of yarn.
She followed him to a room where everyone had already dumped their outerwear and backpacks or purses, and took off her own warm things, helping herself to the last remaining hook.
“Okay. This is what happens. Morning meetings don’t last long but they are a big deal. Attendance is mandatory. Everyone has to show up—visual team associates, sales staff, business operations people, you name it. Even the cleaning personnel.”
She looked out the door of the coatroom. A uniformed woman was walking by, dragging a vacuum that hadn’t been switched on.
“So I see.”
“There’s a hierarchy. You’re near the top, thanks to Talley. You outrank me, actually.”
“I do?”
He winked at her. “Yeah. You can boss me around all you like.”
“Good.”
“Okay, the pecking order. The store manager is in charge of practically everything, but the visual team—that’s us and all the scroungy people we knew in college—”
“Thanks a lot.”
“Am I wrong?”
“No.” She laughed, looking out the door again.
“The visual team is usually assigned by the home office and doesn’t answer directly to the store manager. Managers work on a rotating schedule. The most in-charge person who happens to be there first can start the meeting, and managers rotate responsibility for these meetings.”
Nicole was following him, but not with much interest. Putting up with Darci’s occasional tantrums suddenly seemed like a piece of cake.
“As far as the money flow, operations controls the financial part of the business.”
“Seems reasonable.” Maybe there was a reason she’d been a freelancer for so long.
“Moving right along, there are department managers, and a little lower down the totem pole, sales associates. But it’s all for one and one for all. Your windows are bait to bring in customers and boost sales. Everyone works together to make that happen. Everything gets tracked. Everyone has to be on their game.”
Nicole felt a flash of nervousness, even though she knew they would only start work on the windows after the store closed.
“I still haven’t found my moon, Finn. How long do I have to be here after the meeting? Am I supposed to help anyone else?”
“Not long. I’ll walk you around, explain stuff. And no to your second question. Visual employees do not work register or dressing rooms unless we’re supercrunched. And with nothing in the windows, we’re not exactly attracting hordes of customers. Like Talley said, the week-to-date sales numbers are falling.”
Nicole nodded. “No pressure or anything.”
“Of course not.” He patted her shoulder. “December is only the most important selling month of the year. Repeat after me: I will survive.”
“I will survive,” Nicole said.
A high-pitched, somewhat artificial female voice wafted their way.
“That’s Babs Chroma.” Finn looked at the chunky watch on his wrist. “Right on time.”
The store manager was tall and slender, clad in a skintight, charcoal-wool suit that didn’t leave much to the imagination. The tiny jacket plunged to a deep vee in front, and the skirt was breathtakingly short. Her long legs were sheathed in black tights, and she sported platform stilettos—black patent leather, no less—that added a good five inches to her height.
Babs Chroma knew how to stand out.
Nicole caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror placed at the end of a rack for customers who didn’t have the time to wait for dressing rooms.
By comparison, she resembled a fire hydrant. Not red, just short and thick. Which she wasn’t.
She shouldn’t have looked. Nicole knew that store mirrors had the magic power to make unsuspecting shoppers cringe, probably so they would buy something, anything, that was different and new.
In her own mirror, Nicole had rated herself as an 8 on a Registered Cuteness Scale of 1 to 10. Her best jeans and shrug sweater over a rock-band T-shirt didn’t look the same here.
Nicole told herself she was here to work. And to learn. She stood in the back just in case, half concealed by an open shelf stacked with folded jeans. She didn’t want Babs to point a manicured fingernail at her and ask her to introduce herself.
Other people, mostly young, male and female, quickly joined the gathering.
A few sat down. Babs looked like she never did. With a glance at her watch she began the meeting, pacing back and forth on those killer heels. Nicole wondered what Sam would make of her. Babs reminded her of a tall, long-legged bird. The kind that speared frogs.
But her tone was friendly enough.
“Hey, guys. Welcome. So nice to see you all—I’m sorry, I’m not too good with names, but when I say you, I mean you and you and you!”
She pointed to people at random. No one smiled.
“Okay. Let’s get started. We had a great day yesterday. We finished up five percent to our goal, which means we’re up seven percent from last year. In order to make our week, here’s what we need to do today.”
Babs had it all memorized, Nicole figured.
“We have to do at least twenty-five thousand dollars to meet last year,” Babs said. “We have to do thirty-five thousand dollars to make goal—and that is a projected but realistic goal. Everyone with me so far?”
Affirmative mumbles. No one wanted to seem clueless. This was not a question-and-answer session.
“That’s great. Now, Christmas is just around the corner, and a lot of customers are thinking about how to spend their upcoming bonuses. Plus there’s a payday at the end of the week. And the forecast is for clear, cold days.”
Nicole raised a questioning eyebrow.
“She has to factor in everything that affects sales,” Finn whispered.
“That’s great shopping weather! No slipping on ice. No rain or snow to slog through to get to ENJ. I think we could make a stretch goal of forty thousand dollars!”
No one cheered.
“But let’s think big. As in superstretch goal! No, better than that! Super-duper stretch!”
Nicole looked around at the mostly glum faces. Sharon had worked as a sales associate until she’d burned out on the low wages and punishingly long hours.
“I do have some fabulous incentives that the home office has authorized me to offer,” Babs cooed. “If you can reach your individual sales goals”—she paused meaningfully—“each and every one of you could be eligible for a day off. Or a comp day added to your sick leave. Or even dinner at a fancy restaurant on me!”
Finn cleared his throat. Nicole hadn’t realized he was standing that near to her.
A junior manager in preppy casual attire stepped forward.
“Doesn’t that sound good?” he said encouragingly. “Remember, the higher your numbers are, the higher the manager’s bonus will be for Babs. What she’s talking about is paying it forward to all of you.”
There was a barely discernible ripple of enthusiasm. Most of the sales associates seem to understand that the main beneficiary of their extra effort would be (a) the company and (b) Babs Chroma.
The junior manager went on with the same breathless enthusiasm.
“ENJ really wants to motivate everyone to work together for our holiday bonus package. And don’t forget that Babs also gets a year-end, quarterly bonus to share. She’s counting on you!”
Finn scowled. “I hear that Babs doesn’t like to share all that much,” he whispered to Nicole. “Walk backwards. Slowly. We don’t have to listen to this. If we even get a bonus, it has nothing to do with hers.”
The junior manager was clapping for attention. “New product time! Let’s listen up!”
Nicole took a step backward but continued to look forward.
“Should we stay?” she murmured to Finn.
“Guess we have to. Babs is looking at us.”
Jeans and jackets were brought out and presented to the assembled group, along with instructions for positioning them on the selling floor. Babs Chroma and a couple of the department managers offered suggestions on how to wear things. A couple of sales associates served as models.
Nicole raised her head and looked around. Music played faintly through hidden speakers, getting louder.
“Do you hear what I hear?” Babs exclaimed. She answered her own question. “Yes! Christmas carols for our demographic!”
The volume swelled, pumping to a rock beat. Finn talked directly to Nicole, safe from being overheard. “The soundtrack does change. Just get used to it. You’ll hear something different when the shopping slows down.”
Nicole shook her head. “So much for tradition.”
Finn gave her a what-can-you-do look. “Home office does a lot of research on things like in-store music. ENJ wants their customer to feel right at home.”
The meeting seemed to be almost over. The few people who’d sat down were getting up.
But Babs Chroma had to have the last word. “All right! We can do this! Turn up the music! Open the doors!”
Sam and Nicole edged away as the sales associates moved to their stations.
Nicole looked back at Babs, who was talking to the junior manager. “She has pep to spare. I don’t use that many exclamation points in a year.”
Finn shrugged. “Managers have to motivate.”
 
 
Nicole hung around the flagship store for the rest of the morning, observing how shoppers interacted with the merchandise displays in place—or ignored them. Finn and his team would be picking up the theme of her windows and repeating some elements on the selling floor.
ENJ wanted to help customers connect with the brand in a new way, and Talley was prepared to pay for whatever Nicole wanted for the window displays. The first item on the list was the moon.
Finn was going to get the custom ENJ mannequins from wherever those were stored, and the paint, and whatever props he thought might work. Other members of the team were putting together an assortment of clothing for the window, all new designs. The person who was doing the studding had gone out to buy two huge boxes of tiny fake diamonds—the moon would be studded too.

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