The Winner Takes It All
A return to the Boiler Room is not something I ever think twice about. If the place had a decent coffee machine, a good enough stash of drugs, and enough sustainable adult items scattered around, I would probably call it home. So actually, I kind of already do.
At first, yesterday seemed like a perfectly normal Thursday. The room filled quickly. Temperatures rose. People started sweating. Bodies moved closer together. Some disappeared into dark corners, others into toilets, parked cars, or wherever people go when they decide privacy becomes important. Business as usual.
Then something felt off.
The energy started to dip. Conversations grew quieter. People exchanged glances. Not worried glances exactly, more the type shared between people who all realize that the situation requires attention and before long, the cause became obvious.
We had two competing dealers in the room.
Now, anyone who has ever run a business will tell you that competition is healthy. Taking market share is healthy. Driving customers away because they think a turf war might break out next to the dance floor is considerably less healthy. We all know what’s going on in this line of business, of course. The unspoken agreement is that nobody asks too many questions.
In one corner stood Opie. Across the room, behind the DJ booth, was Markus. Both had arrived with an entourage. Markus brought his impossibly attractive model girlfriend. Opie arrived with a few of her girls. The room quickly became divided into invisible spheres of influence. People slowed down, they became aware of exits and knowledgeable nods were exchanged. I am fairly certain I saw Sol turn green at one point, although in fairness that may have been the lighting.
The DJ, sensing the tension, attempted to calm the room with a playlist that was decidedly un-Boiler Room. Coldplay appeared. ABBA followed. Nothing says “potential narcotics-related market instability” quite like Dancing Queen. If anything, it only made the atmosphere stranger.
Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed. After assessing the situation, Opie concluded that everyone involved would benefit more from cooperation than competition. Discussions were had. Understandings were reached. We collectively exhaled and soon enough people were dancing again, smiling again, and feeling like the chemically best versions of themselves. Markus seemed happy. Opie seemed happy. The customers certainly seemed happy. And in the end, isn’t that what good business is all about?
Money, money, money.
Must be funny.
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This post is not sponsored or paid for in any way. I was also not blackmailed or tortured to write it.
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