Post by Frank Venable on Jun 16, 2019 22:17:47 GMT -5
FPV RP# 2 - The Royal We
Where do you go when you've beaten the biggest legend in a young wrestling federation? The answer is obvious. You go for the World Title.
My match with Roy could not have been more of a success. During the match the two of us raised $29,000, $4000 of my money to St. Jude and $25,000 of Roy's money to the MDA. After the match, it was brought to my attention that the son of a bitch Roy had written ANOTHER check worth $25,000 to St. Jude, simply because it was a good cause and that he was able to do it. Overall, we raised $54,000. Our match was a clean bout, despite some...let's say over-excitement from the charity representatives. There was no run in at the end to steal the charity money, there was no sneak attack by Roy. In a show that ended with the villain Lockhart retaining his title, my match with Roy was a certified feel good moment.
Some people, like Mr. Williams from the board of directors of TPG, sadly didn't see it that way. To him, my company lost $4000 to charity on a whim. A sad opinion from a sad, sad man.
I had the unfortunate pleasure of being with Mr. Williams as we toured the newly opened People's Grounds in Seattle, Washington. Our company was putting pressure on the competition, and this pressure involved opening in the birthplace of the most successful coffee shop on the face of the earth. This particular location was already becoming very popular in the area, and Mr. Williams was ecstatic. Perhaps to an almost uncomfortable degree. I was excited too, of course I would be, but Williams to almost be fetishizing it in a weird, twisted way. At this moment in time, he was speaking to a newly hired barista, a young man dressed in the TPG colors. The store was packed, which unfortunately meant everyone was about to see the way a board member should NOT behave.
Mr. Williams: So how many people have come in to the shop since we've opened? Have things kept busy?
Barista: They certainly have! We get a TON of people here, it can get hectic.
Mr. Williams: Well that's good, isn't it? That means that we're already thriving and we haven't even been here but for a few weeks!
Barista: Well, yes...but it's gets really tiring during lunch hours, and some days I'm just...I'm just dead on my feet.
Mr. Williams: But you still do your job, right?
Barista: Yeah, I kinda have to...
Williams interrupted him in perhaps the rudest manner I had ever seen an employee of mine addressed.
I stood away from the conversation, pretending to inspect the other bits and pieces of the location. Inside, though? I confirmed in my head the punishment I was about to bestow upon Williams when the two of us were alone. This conversation was not over, though. In fact, it was about to reach a new low.
The face of Williams contorted into something disgusting and wrong upon hearing this. He honestly looked as though one of his blood vessels were about to pop. I walked over to the stand with all our bagged grounds, meant for home use, and perused them for a moment. Calm. Collected. The opposite of my partner.
I looked at this boy expecting a stream of snot and tears gushing from him. To my surprise though, he was handling this verbal assault rather well. He was definitely reeling on the inside, but on the outside he made an attempt at remaining professional.
With that, Williams stormed out of the store. The vibrancy of the customers had ground to a halt, everyone now squarely focused on two people, myself and the poor barista at the counter. With a pack of coffee in my hands, I approached the counter and looked at the barista's name tag. "Carter," it read. To his side was a tip jar, currently empty.
He said nothing, only nodded and rang the coffee up. He didn't even tell me what the price was. I can only imagine how difficult speaking to THE boss of your company is, even with the whole previous conversation notwithstanding. I gave him my card to pay for the coffee, before searching through my cash. I fetched the crispest, most pristine $100 I could find. As Carter realized what was happening, I dunked the bill into his tip jar and smiled.
Before I could allow him to respond, I took my coffee and walked out of the building. The most that I heard was a shocked gasp escaping from Carter's mouth. Outside, a limo was waiting for me. When I stepped inside, Mr. Williams was already sitting in his seat.
The car started up and we were soon on the road. I wasted no time in dealing with Mr. Williams and his abhorrent attitude.
Mr. Williams: Who the devil is Carter and why does he deserve a raise.
I sighed.
Mr. Willaims: But Mr. Venable! He was-
I interrupted Williams in much the same way he interrupted Cindy.
The reaction that this man had to learning he wasn't getting a single penny for the month was the kind of thing I wish someone were recording so I could watch over and over again. He almost fell out of his seat and unto the limo floor.
FPV: I can, and I just did. Not sit down, you're making even more of a buffoon out of yourself.
He hoisted himself back up to his seat.
And while I'm at it, Williams, I would just like to reprimand you on your use of the royal We in that conversation you just had. Be honest with yourself, Williams. Be honest for one goddamned moment of your life. You didn't mean we as in "you and I." As in "Frank Venable and myself." No, you meant "myself and myself alone." And with that royal We, you made total blanket statements about the goals of this company that, quite frankly, aren't fucking true at all. Now all of those customers will believe that we treat all of our employees like second rate human beings when I can ASSURE you is not the case. That is your fault and your fault alone.
So here's my ultimatum. If I ever catch you throwing around the royal We like that gain, either with my own ears or via secondhand account, I dock your pay for another month. If I ever catch you treating an employee of mine like that again, I fire you. Simple as that. This limo is going to drop you off at the airport, where you are to go back to HQ and get back to work. I'm staying on and making my way to Colorado for Clash. Do I make myself perfectly clear, Mr. Williams?
For a moment, I thought I had stunned him into absolute silence. After the several moments it took for him to probably process everything I had just told him, he mustered up a sentence.
FPV: So does Carter. Now shut up until we get to the airport, will you?
For the rest of the ride, there was not a single peep out of him.
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Colorado was always a wonderful place to perform. Even before it became known as the marijuana capital of the country, the state was a beauty to behold, and looking down from my hotel room in Colorado Springs, I was reminded of this beauty. Covering my body was a silky bathrobe, the ultimate unnecessary luxury. Around the room in various places were unopened bottles of Merlot. And not the cheap supermarket wine either. No, this was the good stuff. In my hand I had a half drunken glass of the stuff, and as I looked out to the Colorado Springs skyline, I could only feel joy at the idea of wasting William's money like this.
I know that there are some people who think it's the fashionable thing to diss Speede and talk about his recent performances not living up to the hype or whatever, and to those people, I say look back at this company's history and pay attention so that you can realize just how important that guy is to AW's success. Without him, there would be no AW. I certainly wouldn't be here, and I'm probably not the only one. But I digress, beating him the way I did is still a very big deal, because I've proven that I mean BUSINESS here in AW and that I'm not a one time fly by night "legend" like some other people in this industry.
Which brings me to this week's edition of Clash. The Clash After Evo, it was always bound to be a big deal, I just never realized how big it would ACTUALLY be in terms of my own placement on the card. How do you top the biggest show of the year just one week removed from it? Simple, you put four of the biggest names in the industry and make it for a title match at your next pay-per-view. I don't know if it was Tort who signed off on this match or not, but if it was he's an absolute genius. This is as pay-per-view-worthy of a match that I can think of, and that's not a joke.
Four men, all with some claim to kingdom somewhere in their history. The King of Mass Confusion. The King of eXtreme. The old King of the Deathmatch. And of course, your current King of the Deathmatch. And with as many accolades that all of these men have racked up in their careers, I'm still just as ready as ever to take them on and secure my plans for Carnage.
Firstly, the King of Mass Confusion. Alex Richards, newest inductee into the WCF Hall of Fame. Congratulations on that by the way, it was certainly a moment to remember. I can only just imagine how excited you must've been to secure your legacy in such an emphatic way, finally getting one over on your rival Noble Savage on the grandest stage of them all. If only your OTHER rival from the end of WCF, Mr. Teo Blaze, hadn't shown up to thunderous applause and absolute adoration right before your match with Noble. If only the man who defeated you to take away your WCF World Title and become that company's final flagbearer hadn't completely dunked on your moment and ruined it. It's still a moment worth remembering. Maybe not worth celebrating, but at the very least remembering.
One look at you and your stocky, blocky, large alcoholic mass and many people would immediately write you off a joke. Yet despite your weird body structure and your weird personality, you made somewhat of a name for yourself. Yet you still had people calling you a joke. Do you know why, Alex? It was because of The Guardians.
It's always about The Guardians with you. The group that took you in and held you back for so long. A story as old in this industry as time itself. They were a silly group with silly people. Polar Phantasm, Bonnie Blue, Damian Kaine. The list goes on. And with as silly as you were at the time, you fit right in. You stayed in that group just long enough to tarnish your reputation for good. People STILL bring it up to this day, and for good reason.
You were considered such a joke by that UCI audience, that even though you probably deserved another shot at that company's world title, you were not the first choice to challenge for it near the end of that company's life because no one RESPECTED YOU enough as champion. You were the longest reigning champion...until Kevin Bishop. You had the most successful defenses...until Kevin Bishop. Everything that was special about your reign was soon out done by Kevin fucking Bishop. That company wanted you away from that belt so badly that they gave me, a complete outsider with no real reason for challenging for it a shot. Because they knew that I had the industry's RESPECT as a competitor, and that I could add prestige to that belt.
These days are different. You COMMAND respect from everyone you meet, you are the only person that I'm aware of that had to EARN his Hall of Fame spot definitely in a match. You walk and talk as though you're one of the top stars in this company, because deep down, you know you are. But to me, Alex? You're still that stocky jokey cretin getting drunk off Zim-quilla and languishing in the Hardcore and Internet divisions. I'd ask if you can prove me wrong at Clash this week, but I don't think you will.
I sipped from my glass. I was surprised I was still this coherent.
0-1-0. Three numbers have never hurt someone more than I think those numbers hurt you, Michael. That's your official record in AW as of today. To be so hyped by everyone in the buildup to Evo, to make everyone believe you actually had a chance at ushering in a new era of AW, acting like a badass and refusing Torture's initial, very generous contract offers, acting as you had come to claim your rightful place on the throne of the AW Kingdom.
You did all of this, and all you have is a 100% loss record to your name.
You've always been overrated Michael, we're just all collectively realizing it now. We hyped you up so hard during your feud with Bernard Core, thinking you were going to be the guy to full breakthrough to the main event scene. Well you did, but you've been garbage ever since. I can at least be nice to the other people in this match. I can't be for you, because you've choked so hard at the top so frequently I'm actually beginning to feel frustrated by you. You're an aggressive choke artist, and it's sickening because I know one of these days you'll finally become the top dog so many people foolishly think you are today.
I wonder just how much that loss to Ryan is messing with your head, Michael. Just how cloudy is your judgement? Just how much will it affect your performance at Clash this week. That last one I already know the answer to. You're going to be so overly-obsessed with getting a second chance at Ryan that you'll over do it and fuck up harder then you did at Evo. You're going to lose, and you're going to flounder afterwards. I'm sure that with a loss like this you'll be kicked back down to the upper mid card where you really need to be, and it'll be a long while before you even get within sniffing distance of that world title.
Simply put, you don't deserve to be in this match, and if you can't beat one man one-on-one, how do you expect to face off against three at once?
I finished off the rest of the glass, setting it aside as I put my attention towards my final opponent.
Still though, you really think that you can challenge for a world title in this day and age? You're certainly allowed to try, but you'll lose against Lockhart. I can tell you that's for damn sure, but that's also something you already know, isn't that right Corey? You know because deep down, you know there's a certain caliber of wrestlers in this company that you just can't beat?
Let's take your first time around in AW, the All In match last year. You threw your hat into the most stacked non Havoc match of the whole year, thinking you could walk out with that briefcase. You were wrong. You got beat to the punch by Ryan Lockhart, who I'll point out to you is still World Champion to this very day, despite Michael X's best efforts. What makes you think you can beat that guy now when you couldn't beat him before? So that didn't work out, but you were determined to maintain your relevancy, and you found yourself against what you thought was a hot up and comer in L Verez at Execution. Yet again, you lost, and nowadays you can't even use the "oh well, at least I'm putting over the new talent" card. L Verez is GONE. That loss was nothing but a failure and a waste of time for you, Corey.
So what do you decide to do? Simple. You started punching below your weight. You started picking on a guy you knew could never beat as hard as he tried. You engaged in what I can only describe as schoolyard bully tactics for five months, mentally toying with Jaice Wilds via the Doom Squad. I've heard people ask "Why Jaice? Of all the people to make a statement against, why him? Jaice never did anything to Corey Black." And they're right, he never did anything to you. The only reason you messed with him for that long was because you knew you were above him and could do whatever you liked. The moment he tried to weasel his way out of it, you twisted his arm and forced him into a match at Evo already knowing the outcome.
Corey, you're fucking better than that.
Those five months you messed around with the Doom Squad, you could've built yourself back up after that loss to L, fought in multiple matches that actually were worth a damn, and eventually you could've tried your hand at the World title again and it would've made sense. But that's not the route you took. You spent five months being a coward and hiding behind masked goons, before coming out and giving people a result so apparent it was boring.
It's not wins against Jaice Wilds that make you a legend, Corey. It's wins against Lockhart, Speede, Adams and Moor. You've faced against tougher opponents in WCF's heyday, why can't you fight these guys now?
Because you're scared.
So Corey, Micheal, Alex, I'm ready for Clash. I've been ready for this match since the day the ink dried on my AW contract. If you think I'm going to let this slip by me, you're dead wrong.
Take your places along the gallows, gents. It's only a matter of time.