Writing for Fun
April 2015
The Telephone Cold Call - Jan Osborne
Capitex was a successful, privately owned, Sheffield company selling products to hospitals for head and neck cancer patients. Harry Cross was founder and Chairman of the Board. Today, as he left the Boardroom, he felt more tired and exhausted than he had felt in years. Although going on for sixty he had kept himself in good shape and ate reasonably healthily, he had noticed recently that he was losing weight; his skin had begun to look dull and grey and his energy levels were nonexistent. Was he working too hard or was he just getting too old to cope; should he retire or at least take a back seat in the business?
Perhaps it really was time for him to hand the reins to his son Tony who knew almost as much as he did about the company's products and as a recently appointed member of the Board was already practised in Boardroom and business tactics.
Over the years Harry had been preparing Tony for the day he would become chairmen by making him work in all departments. This would, to Harry's way of thinking, give him a good grounding in the workings of the Company and respect of the workers they employed.
The only area he had not tackled was sales. Harry decided that he would transfer Tony to the Sales Department on Monday and set him to prove his acumen in telephone cold calling. Much of the Company's revenue was generated from NHS contracts. Setting up good working relationships with Ear Nose and Throat consultants and related therapists was crucial to creating new sales opportunities. Once Tony had tried his hand at sales for a week or two he would, with the board's approval, step down and appoint him Chairman of the Board in his stead. Pleased with his decision he belted himself into his BMW and headed for home and a large whisky and soda or two.
At the end of a week in sales Tony despaired. He had made many calls to hospital personnel and failed miserably to generate any sales or even any interest. Harry, after a few too many after dinner drinks, boasted to Tony that any fool could sell over the 'phone.
This rash statement found Harry, the next day, sitting at his desk dialling the number of John Whiteman, the newly appointed ENT consultant of the Northern General Hospital. Tony sat next to him, with a grin on his face, waiting to see if indeed his old man really could show him some good sales techniques or whether he would end up with egg on his face. So far so good. John Whiteman was the youngest ever ENT consultant to be appointed in Sheffield or, in fact, the whole of Yorkshire and had, as yet, an unspent budget. He was eager to make his mark and wanted the latest and best equipment and aids for his patients. He gladly took the call.
Harry introduced himself, his Company and their best selling products. He was feeling a little frustrated and not a little embarrassed as every so often his voice would break or become very hoarse – this was happening more and more these days. He apologised and took a sip of water. He was about to launch into details of a revolutionary new talking device that he was manufacturing for people who needed an artificial voice after throat surgery for cancer when the consultant rudely interrupted him.
'Hang on a moment; how long have you had this hoarse voice? . . . I see, three months . . . mmm. Do you smoke? . . . Cigars, I see. How many? . . . Really. Have you seen your GP? . . . No. Do you have trouble swallowing? . . . Have you had a persistent sore throat? . . . Have you lost weight? . . .' John continued with a barrage of questions which Harry, taken by surprise, answered automatically and without question. At last John stopped and Harry, gathering his wits and feeling more than a little alarmed said, 'Why are you asking these questions? What's wrong?
The consultant apologised and then after a little silence said quietly that, this time, perhaps he would be the one to help Harry and not the other way round. 'It may be nothing, but I am a little concerned about your throat. I suggest I contact your GP and arrange for you to see me soon for some tests. Give me your details and I will telephone him straight away.'
The very next week Tony found himself head of the family firm and Harry found himself attending the Northern General Hospital for radiotherapy on his larynx to treat his cancer.
Two months later a cured and extremely grateful Harry was shown into the office of John Whiteman together with the journalist and cameraman of the local newspaper, the Sheffield Herald. With profuse thanks from Harry for the early diagnosis that had saved his voice and his life, and much scribbling and pictures by the newspapermen, John Whiteman's reputation had been greatly enhanced and his ENT department was quarter of a million pounds the richer.