The more I experience this so-called business, Pumpkins, the louder I want to shout, “My implants for some logic!!”
Take the sun suppliers. They’re heavily into trafficking beds for bodies. Shipping out thousands of frozen head of Canadian grade A tourists to hungry hoteliers. (I’m always surprised no one’s introduced a branding iron into the loading, I mean, boarding process.) Is there money in all that cheap cargo, dahrlings?
Dealing with consumers is so messy. They complain. They want things. Like their luggage. As I used to tell Giacomo, fill my quota and shut up.
You, on the other hand, dear Pumpkins, trade in service. And god knows there’s no money in that. (I know, some are in the volume business … I can’t help you.)
And yet, there are enough Benz’s, Ferrari’s and Prada bags out there to stock a small Middle Eastern country. Money is passing hands. I can smell it. Somebody knows something and they’re not talking.
Personally speaking, I would forever be very nice to whoever wants to spill the beans. I have a room for such things.
