Chapter 8 Part 2
I show up at the new offices of Lights Out Enterprises next door to Winston Capital at 8:00 a.m. sharp. Behind a glass door I can see Victor on a phone call. The furniture from his former office now looks out of place in the rustic Venice Beach digs. But there are also several new pieces of furniture, unlike any other furniture I’ve ever seen before— a round table with a top made of chalkboard and a center tray for multicolored chalk. It’s all highly stylized, made of bright colors and strange materials. Yet it’s simple and functional with clean lines. I notice a sign indicating an ocean view from the rooftop.
Victor sees me and motions for me to check out my new office across the hall, which he has taken the liberty of decorating with similar furniture. I enter, barely taking in my new surroundings. I immediately pull my wireless laptop computer out of my bag and place it on my desk, also made out of chalkboard material. What a paper saver—you can make notes and scribble ideas down on the desk as you work, I think, while searching for the nearest electrical outlet.
Victor wraps up his phone call and steps across the hall into my office. “How do you like it?”
“It’s great, Victor. You and Arthur Pintock should start an office design company. Your tastes are identical. What do you have, an arsenal of high-end furniture design in storage somewhere?”
“Sort of.” He points behind me to a changing-table posing as a credenza with a portable teapot and a box of black tea. “Your teapot...and tea.”
I look and smile, but it doesn’t last.
“What’s wrong?”
“We have to talk,” I say. “Thornton cancelled his deal because Derek bought out the Baxter Funeral Home and is offering pre-need deals at one-third the cost of those at Lights Out.”
I quickly connect to the Internet. “Look at this.” I log on to Derek Rogers’s Web site and hop onto the member sub-site to show Victor the hyperlink to Tribute in a Box in-house training video and manual with sample production templates.
“Can you get in?”
“I’m trying,” I say. Meanwhile, I call Toby Helman, who then quickly calls back.
“I’ve got the code for you,” she says. “The username is Attila, and the password is The Hun, spelled out as one word.” “You’re kidding, right?” I ask.
“No. The man is so full of his imperialist attitudes that I can’t even comment anymore. Good luck.”
“Thanks so much, Toby.”
I start typing and click on the training-video link. Up streams a play-by-play version from my business plan and Web site on how to make efficacious life bio videos.
Victor squints in disgust at the screen. “It’s a complete rip-off from your business plan... He’s got balls.”
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Victor show signs of irritation.
We both watch as the training video displays a large number of props to select from for use during a funeral service, and which they can supply—for a fee of course.
The props that fit onto the corner of a casket are known as “corner prop symbols,” which the video shows, just as my business plan referred to them. Sample corner props include mini golf balls, guitars, horses, cars, fishing poles, chef’s hat, bowling ball, soccer ball, football, baseball mitt, American Flag, rifle and ballerina shoes, to name a few.
Other kinds of prop symbols include cloth tapestries, known as “cloth props” which have the same symbols woven into the cloth. Cloth props are used to drape over a casket or around an urn, or to hang from behind the pulpit.
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THE FUNERAL PLANNER
ChickLitMadison Banks has brilliant ideas and an Ivy League degree in Entrepreneurial Studies to go with them. But no matter how hard she tries, she fails to get lift off on her start-ups, and is constantly usurped by her arch nemesis, the arrogant Derek R...