Dead Leads

Master Devlin: “You really are a shithead, Waldoson...”

wF: “Come on, Stan. If you just give me two or three of those new leads, we can turn this whole thing around!”

Master Devlin: “Forget it, Waldo. New leads are for closers. You can't close for shit. You are shit! You’re insane and a complete liability to this company!”

wF: “It’s just a dry spell, Stan. A run of bad luck. Happens to everybody at some point.”

Master Devlin: “Most guys have bad patches, yes — but even the most Saharan spells don’t typically leave a trail of dead leads like yours.”

wF: “Yeah but it’s not Wiffuhuh’s fault. The Masta keeps giving us terrible leads.”

Master Devlin: “That's not true.”

wF: “It is too true... Bunch of deadbeats, every one of ’em. If you’d just given us the good leads, we could break this bad streak and be back on easy street...”

Master Devlin: “But the Master has shared good leads before. I’ve even given you some of the best leads because I thought you needed the help. Somehow Waldo still always comes back covered in their blood.”

wF: “Preposterous! Baseless accusations.”

Master Devlin: “Oh?? What about last Friday?? The Stevenson lead!?”

wF: “That was a terrible lead. Timewasters! The pair of them. They just like to talk to salesmen. Especially cute little salesgoblins like us. The woman even wanted to adopt Wiffuhuh...”

Master Devlin: “Waldo... You came back to the office wearing Mrs. Stevenson’s face...”

wF: “You bet we did. It was a killer strategy. You should’ve seen it, Danny. I stood before that man, Mr. Stevenson, wearing his wife’s face and looked him right in the eye... and we held out this pen and said... we said, ‘Husband, you are going to sign this...’ And it almost worked too, if it hadn’t been for those pesky kids making a fuss.”

Master Devlin: “Don’t you see that it was all rather unnecessary? You could have just walked away and come back to the office to inform me that the lead was no good. You didn’t have to kill the wife, let alone murder the whole family.”

wF: “Well it wasn’t how we planned it to go, but they became quite disagreeable. Things escalated quickly...”

Master Devlin: “You murdered their mother and the man’s wife and then paraded around the house wearing her face! Of course they were going to be disagreeable. You call yourself a salesman, you sick son of a bitch? What the hell kind of sales strategy is that??”

wF: “It was worth a shot, man. Other strategies weren’t working. Besides, Wiffuhuh is a salesgoblin that thinks outside the box. That’s why you hired us.”

Master Devlin: “Except I never hired you. I just can’t get rid of you. No matter where I go, you’re always, always there!! And I certainly didn’t hire you to murder all our leads. The Stevensons were just one example of many... In the last six months, your ‘bad luck streak’ has racked up a body count bigger than the Yorkshire Ripper.”

wF: “Just some bad luck is all. Could happen to anybody...”

Master Devlin: “No, Waldo. You’re a fucking liability to this company and an absolute car crash of a salesman. Not to mention extremely dishonest. You won’t even take responsibility for your fuck ups!”

wF: “Dishonest?? You got some nerve, buster... Where the hell do you get off talking to Wiffuhuh like that?? There’s no one more honest than Wiffuhuh! Who the hell are you? Oh look, Mr. Big Fancy Dragon Man, thinks he’s hot shit... You’re not so great! You spend all your time on your fat ass in the office, cold-calling old ladies — harassing them while they try to enjoy their afternoon tea. Meanwhile Wiffuhuh is out there going door to door, busting his little green ass for this company. Think you can talk to Wiffuhuh like that, you son of a bitch? You ain’t better than Wiffuhuh!”

Master Devlin: “I’m not a crooked, lying murderer who tortures and wears the faces of the people we are supposed to be selling to.”

wF: “Newsflash, asshole: People don’t like buying land from goblins! I dunno why but there it is, so we gotta be creative. We do what we gotta do, alright? Gotta give them some incentive. What Wiffuhuh does with a pair of pliers, a car battery and a blowtorch ain’t no different to what you do with your fancy pants words over the phone... A means to an end. You got some nerve, man... You want results, but then criticise the manner in which we achieve them... Well I won’t be lectured to by some fairy company man...”

Master Devlin: “I want sales... You provide none. Only dead leads. You are really terrible, Waldo, and as your Master and employer, it IS my right to criticise your monstrous behavior...”

wF: “Pfft. Ungrateful swine! We don’t have to listen to this! To hell with this. We’re going home...”

Master Devlin: “Good. And don’t bother coming in tomorrow. You’re fired, Waldo.”

wF: “Alright, Stan, alright... Let’s calm down. We’ve both said things we didn’t mean, but let’s not get carried away now... We have a difference of opinion is all. No need to get all bent out of shape about it. The fact is Wiffuhuh used an unorthodox sales technique. It didn’t work out. Let’s just chalk it up to a loss and move on... Now, how about those new leads?”