The 3% Solution

"Get it on paper," Harry's mother warned him.

But he didn't.

"Don't work for Alvy."

But he did.

"Alvy's a thief."

That he was.

Maybe Harry didn't have a signed agreement with Alvy, but he kept a detailed list of all his sales. After his first year at Shugar Belt, Harry racked up a whopping $672,466 in sales. At 3% commission, that should have paid Harry another $20,173.98 on top of his base salary. But after house accounts, discounted sales, out-of-province sales, cash sales, unreported sales, returns, credit notes, bad credit and bankruptcies, every monthly commission check came up short and each commission statement had a story. By year end, the commissions paid to Harry amounted to a grand total of $5425.62.

"The difference is a car," Harry complained to his mother. But Alvy had another take.

"Five K plus is good scratch for a guy who didn't have a pot to piss in when I hired him," he rationalized to Harry.

"But it's not even close to what you owe me, Alvy. We had a deal."

"A year in the showroom eating cookies with perfumed broads and now he's the big deal maker! Show me the fucking signed contract for our understanding, Mr. Let's Make A Deal."

Harry knew to keep his cool, if Alvy blew up he'd have no chance at recovering any of the money owed to him.

"You offered me 3% commission on my sales, Alvy. That's over twenty grand."

"I never said a straight 3%, there's exceptions. You're pushing goods on every puttana who walks in."

"That's not true. I'm the in-house sales rep, I service the customers who walk in."

"And speaking of walking, Harry. You're always free to walk yourself if you're not happy."

And that's how those types of conversations would always end. Harry would've walked, should've walked, but not without every penny that was due to him. So if Alvy wouldn't cough up the money, then Harry would go get it himself. His way.