bummer (lyn)

I met James (not his real name) when I first came to New York in 1985, and we fast became friends.  He was single, seemed to know (and date) every available single women in New York, had lots of friends, and was often organizing activities, beach houses, ski trips, etc.  We spent a lot of time doing a lot of stuff together, and through him I met some women with whom I am still friendly.  He eventually married, had kids, and I guess, settled down.  While I still consider James a friend, we speak infrequently.

James is now head of a big agency.  I met with him in early June and showed him the new service I was working on.  Within five minutes of my presentation, James interrupted and said, “I love it.  You should meet with my head of business development.  I will put you in touch.”  And he did.

My spirits soared.  James saw the value of this new service, and I had no doubt that my first sale was imminent.  I met with a group of five people in mid-June.  Their excitement was palpable.  They asked if they could see what a “book” looked like.  “Yes, of course,” I enthusiastically responded.

I was thrilled.  I had a book made for them, and returned in July to present it.  They thought the quality was great.  They’d get back to me.

July and August passed.  A few friendly phone calls.  “We’re still thinking about it.”  Then one of the senior people who loved this product left the company.  Then more stalling.  Then, “We are going to regroup on this and discuss with the appropriate people.”  We even lowered the price.  More emails.   Then nothing.  No more returned phone calls. 

Finally, I call James last week.  As usual, he sounds happy to hear from me.  And yes, he will check on the status and get back to me. 

A week and a half later I email him.  I remind him of the product, its benefits, its cost, and ask when he thinks he’ll have a decision.  A few days later I get this email, in the tiniest imaginable font:

Too many balls in air now

We won't be able to address until first quarter

Sorry

James

I want to write back, “Where did all these balls come from?”  or, “How come you didn’t see the balls coming back in June when we first met?”  Or even better, "Are there really any balls at all?"  But I don’t.

I write a perfunctory email saying, “I hope we get work together in first quarter,” failing to add that the product will be gone by then.