Many years ago.......
.....Summer of 1964, following my sophomore year at college.
A friend at my church convinced me to try what he said was a wonderful way to make megabucks at a summer job.
It was selling Grolier encyclopedias door-to-door.
Training was said to be paid, but I never received a penny. Promises-promises if I asked.
I guess the goal was to successfully sell a set of encyclopedias, to find a sucker.
Glitz and glamour were paraded every-which-way: fabulous jaunts to Hawaii, Las Vegas, etc. But the goal was to find that sucker.
We’d patronize some fancy restaurant before door-to-door. (I think they were paying my tab.)
That was after two weeks of so-called training: how to present our product as the deal-of-the-century. Lots of drama and room-filling displays; no pyrotechnics though.
I guess my friend was successful, but to me it was a snow-job. The goal was to take advantage of some sucker.
My doubts increased as we began working an apartment complex where door-to-door salesmanship was prohibited. The idea was to not get caught. We were sneaking door-to-door.
I managed to get inside one apartment. My presentation was horribly scattershot, but the young newlyweds were interested.
I didn’t succeed but came close. No matter, it all seemed stupid to me. $1,500 for books that never get cracked, plus trinkets that wouldn’t get used. Landfill for everything, except I fleece my clients outta $1,500.
I finally gave up — I stopped showing up. Two weeks of pointless blathering, then sneaking around door-to-door — usually to get sent packing.
The fact we patronized some glitzy restaurant beforehand, didn’t counteract the sucker-search.
Ferraris and Hawaii junkets were hot air.
I switched back to my lowly laborer’s job for a contractor painting high-steel in my father’s oil-refinery. At least there I got paid.
My first job after college was a bank in Rochester, NY. At first I was clerical, but I was soon switched to sales.
“Rules are made to be broken,” I was told.
It quickly became apparent I didn’t have a viper attitude. Some low-level cutie-pie mistakenly bounces a check, and it’s “What can you do for me, honey?” A Xerox vice-president overdraws his bank account, and quickly gets approved. Can you say “interest-free loan?”
Is this what our nation became, now that the postwar bubble is over? Vipers hot to make a killing? No wonder The Donald is prez.
I guess I never fit = too liberal. And now some of my very best friends are bleeding-heart females. The macho dudes are no fun talking to.
A friend at my church convinced me to try what he said was a wonderful way to make megabucks at a summer job.
It was selling Grolier encyclopedias door-to-door.
Training was said to be paid, but I never received a penny. Promises-promises if I asked.
I guess the goal was to successfully sell a set of encyclopedias, to find a sucker.
Glitz and glamour were paraded every-which-way: fabulous jaunts to Hawaii, Las Vegas, etc. But the goal was to find that sucker.
We’d patronize some fancy restaurant before door-to-door. (I think they were paying my tab.)
That was after two weeks of so-called training: how to present our product as the deal-of-the-century. Lots of drama and room-filling displays; no pyrotechnics though.
I guess my friend was successful, but to me it was a snow-job. The goal was to take advantage of some sucker.
My doubts increased as we began working an apartment complex where door-to-door salesmanship was prohibited. The idea was to not get caught. We were sneaking door-to-door.
I managed to get inside one apartment. My presentation was horribly scattershot, but the young newlyweds were interested.
I didn’t succeed but came close. No matter, it all seemed stupid to me. $1,500 for books that never get cracked, plus trinkets that wouldn’t get used. Landfill for everything, except I fleece my clients outta $1,500.
I finally gave up — I stopped showing up. Two weeks of pointless blathering, then sneaking around door-to-door — usually to get sent packing.
The fact we patronized some glitzy restaurant beforehand, didn’t counteract the sucker-search.
Ferraris and Hawaii junkets were hot air.
I switched back to my lowly laborer’s job for a contractor painting high-steel in my father’s oil-refinery. At least there I got paid.
My first job after college was a bank in Rochester, NY. At first I was clerical, but I was soon switched to sales.
“Rules are made to be broken,” I was told.
It quickly became apparent I didn’t have a viper attitude. Some low-level cutie-pie mistakenly bounces a check, and it’s “What can you do for me, honey?” A Xerox vice-president overdraws his bank account, and quickly gets approved. Can you say “interest-free loan?”
Is this what our nation became, now that the postwar bubble is over? Vipers hot to make a killing? No wonder The Donald is prez.
I guess I never fit = too liberal. And now some of my very best friends are bleeding-heart females. The macho dudes are no fun talking to.
Labels: fond memories
posted by BobbaLew at 7:03 PM
1 Comments:
Interesting blog. Bill also tried door to door sales - of dictionaries, one summer and was a total failure. He quit after 2 weeks and went back home to work in the Steel mill his Dad worked for in Asheville. I do not like labels. Liberal means honest, fair, and compassionate.
Post a Comment
<< Home