Every day is an adventure in the world of outside sales. Whether it is a customer assailing your lineage or hoping that a comet will strike earth the day before you are scheduled to spend some time with your boss, one never knows what challenges a new day will bring.
Generally a typical sales day falls into one of four categories; success, comic, frustration and the catastrophic. Ninety percent of a sales person’s life is spent in category number three, frustration. The daily, soul dampening siege most salespeople endure equates to an average citizen allowing a bucket of fish guts to be deposited upon their head every time they speak. Success and catastrophe account for the balance of about two percent of a peddler’s days on the street, accounting for the occasional large commission check or, perhaps, the slow torture of “corrective action” administered by a micro- manager who lacks the sales skills to persuade Tommy Lee to add another tattoo.
What inspires most salespeople to return to the trenches and continue their daily march to the grave? The answer lies in those rare fleeting moments of comedy that infiltrate their day. To pause for a laugh amidst a stormy sea of rejection is always a welcome respite.
Once, a rookie co-worker of mine (let’s call her “Katie”) was asked to present a proposal to a large group and brought me along to the meeting for moral support. She was extremely nervous about the presentation and had stopped at home to eat something before the meeting fearing the possibility that her stomach might begin growling during her sales pitch. Surrounded by interested prospective customers, Katie took off her coat and launched into her proposal only to realize that, in her haste, she had forgotten to remove the frilly apron she had worn during her lunch to help guard her business clothes. What followed was a brief, awkward silence and a question from the audience as to whether Katie had whipped up some cookies to bring to the meeting. Everyone enjoyed a good laugh and the tension subsided. “Katie Homemaker” (as she was now known to the group), finished her presentation and secured the sale.
Years ago, in the early days of cellular phones, I was asked to travel to some rather remote areas to drum up business for this new and exciting technology. One such trip steered me up a long, winding dirt road where a group of loggers were seeking some sort of communication device that would reach their home base. Dressed in a three-piece suit I met the loggers atop a mountain somewhere near Gretna. But before I could exit my car I saw something that caused me to pull my left foot back into the vehicle with great haste.
Standing before me was a solid black, mutant German Shepherd mix the size of a small horse. Normally I have no fear of dogs, but this brute was clearly sizing me up as an appetizer. When the loggers came over to greet me the beast ran off into the forest and I slowly emerged from the car. I engaged the loggers with the usual talk about price and coverage until I felt something pushing into my back, nearly knocking me over. I slowly turned to investigate and found the black dog standing behind me holding a dead, bloody raccoon in his mouth, offering the carcass to me as a kind of gift!
The loggers noticing the look of horror on my face howled with laughter, eventually commenting that the dog must really like me to bestow such a thoughtful token. As you might imagine, my dry cleaner gave me the oddest look when I brought the suit in to be cleaned. It was as if he was trying to remember my features just in case he was prompted to describe my likeness to a police sketch artist.
Another appointment brought me to a small farm near Salem, after the wife of an elderly farmer called me about a cell phone for her husband. Unable to reach him when he was out in the fields, the woman wanted a phone that would be loud enough for her hearing impaired spouse to heed over the rumble of a tractor engine. I explained that I could provide a portable phone that vibrated and that if her husband kept the handset in his chest pocket, he would be able to “feel” the call. Sold on the feature, the woman set up an appointment for me to meet her husband and bring him a phone.
The following is a brief one act play depicting my conversation with the farmer.
Scene: A small farm in Southwestern, Virginia. A nattily attired salesperson rings the doorbell of a farm house. The farmer answers the door.
Farmer: Good morning young fella.
Salesperson: Good morning sir, I am Jon Kaufman from GTE.
Farmer: You say you want something to eat?
Jon (puzzled) No sir, I am from GTE the mobile phone company.
Farmer: Son why would I want a mobile home, when I live right here in this farmhouse?
Jon (feeling like he had somehow been transported back in time and deposited into an Abbott and Costello sketch). No sir, I spoke to your wife about a cell phone.
Farmer: I am not interested in selling my home.
(The farmer steps back and shuts the door.)
Curtain falls.
It is little stories like these that keep me beating the bushes for sales. You never know what is behind the next door. Fellow salespeople, take heart in these trying times, you are not alone out there. Somewhere a comic moment awaits to brighten your day.
By Jon Kaufman [email protected]
