SPLEENS IN THE MIST
One of my coworkers has indicated that in her estimation I am an incompetent and don’t know my job. That, at least, seems to be the gist of an angry e-mail squawk.
I have no evidence that she knows my job either.
Apparently, in addition to calling the relevant accounts payable contact person regarding a past-due invoice, I am also supposed to alert the buyer, the stock clerk, the warehouse manager, the receiving department, and the president of the delinquent company, in addition to our sales people, their marketing department, various important vice presidents, and the entire gardening crew of a gated community.
Had I alerted the customer that there was a past-due invoice?
I left a clear message for the AP department. In addition to sending an e-mail.
As this customer is quite reliable, and financially stable besides, it is likely that the invoice has been misplaced. Their average days to pay are within five days of the due date. There have been some changes there but nothing to worry about, so no doubt in the fullness of time the invoice will be taken care of.
Whether the accounts payable person intends to tell the buyer, stock clerk, warehouse manager, receiving department, comptroller, president, or anybody else (possibly including but not limited to: salesreps, gatekeepers, coffee
I do not see how that would help…….. but it probably can’t do any harm.
If she feels like it, why not?
I have no idea what the customs are regarding past-due invoices in deep South Texas.
Maybe they garland them with strings of marigolds and sprightly bear them forth dancing, ere writing the cheque. All with great ceremony. Perhaps even feasting.
Bully for them if so.
The order that is scheduled to ship next week will indeed ship – I see no reason to hold it past the scheduled ship date.
There is, in fact, no indication that anything needs to be brought to the attention of the buyer, the stock clerk, the warehouse manager, the receiving department, and the company president. Or any sales people, marketing departments, concerned citizens, vice presidents, Fox newscasters, robed dignitaries, shrive-designated priests or witchdoctors, powerful local headmen and their retained soothsayers and ritualists, blind bards, or whoever mows the lawn and trims the shrubbery in any gated community anywhere.
The world is not coming to an end.
Not over this account in any case.
In order to regain my composure – now that I’ve been alerted that I am an incompetent, just spinning my thumbs, and probably vastly overpaid for that paltry and useless service, in all no more than a hindrance to the proper functioning of the company and an unnecessesary obstacle to profit – I took a walk.
I ended up going to a tobacconist I seldom patronize, to browse quietly among the leaves.
While there I found a tin of pipe tobacco which they may have had on the shelf since Marty retired five years ago. In any case, several years old, nicely tin-aged and probably a delight to smoke. It’s a great find, and I shall enjoy it immensely.
Why had that tin of tobacco not sold in the interim?
Well, for much the same reason that I seldom patronize them.
They don’t know what they are doing.
Just like me.