Dearth of a Salesman

Scratch a salesman and you'll get the blood of a worried man. And maybe what you get won't be blood, either.

A salesman worries about many things besides the farmer's daughter. He often has to plan an elastic work day, keep himself out of baseball games and movies, smile at sons-of-bitches, put up with indifferent food, and wield a faster throat cutter than his competition. But whether he travels on the road or works in one town and goes home every night, he always has one constant concern – what to do with the coffee he drinks all day long.

It's easy enough for him to pull up to a gas station that advertises "Clean Rest Rooms." But not if he doesn't need gas. Any salesman worth his salt operates on the principle that no benefits are accepted without equal benefits being given. This business policy is so ingrained that he finds it almost impossible to separate that business theory from his personal viewpoint. He knows that any place of business that maintains such facilities does so for their customers. And if he's not a customer, he'll be goddamned if he'll use them.

Towards the end of a long day, the floating-back-teeth problem confronts almost every "man on the street." For the average man, it's quite difficult to convince a prospect that his proposition is better than those of the other eight guys who have been in during the day with almost identical deals – while alternately standing on one foot. Steps must be taken. And in the right direction.

The house-to-house salesman can't ring a door bell and say, "Lady, I gotta go. Can I use your john?" Nor can the man waiting in the reception room of an office go up to the receptionist with a brusk, "Hey, sister – where is it?" The man calling on retailers is just as bad off, as prowling around in the back of a store is not conducive to pleasant business relationships. These boys are all admittedly in bad shape, and some are probably even a little bent over. And it's their own fault: a little foresight can prevent such tragedies.

All conscientious sales manuals should incorporate a special set of instructions under the classification of "Planning the Day" ... subhead, "Special Routing." A modest set of file cards, with notations and remarks added daily, is standard equipment. Five minutes study thereof gives the average man more confidence at the start of the day than a trip through the Koehler factory.

The lunch hour is important to a salesman. He likes to eat well, but even more important, he likes to find a place that can take care of his kidneys as well as his stomach. These places are all too rare. Too many times, he has to grab a sandwich in a hamburger joint or a drug store, and for all practical purposes pertinent to this discussion, he might as well be walking a tight rope at the circus on ladies day. The man who works in one town for any length of time quickly builds up a route of favored restaurants. Any restaurant considerate enough to provide such conveniences will be found to have a brief case or sample case next to almost every seat in the place. Yes, maybe even that one, too.

A man covering a new territory, of course, is out of luck, and has to take his chances. He knows that if he doesn't click at noon, he's going to be in trouble later in the day. It is a solemn fact that the most jealously guarded of travelling salesmen's little black address books are those listing lunch stops.

Any salesman with his wits about him will see to it that his late afternoon plans include proximity to a railroad station, public building, department store, or other establishment with general public patronage of its more basic plumbing facilities. Hospitals are good, too. Office buildings are sometimes OK, but they usually entail too much furtive peering into broom closets, as the doors are usually not marked. The building management cannot always be trusted in office buildings, either, as they sometimes put locks on the doors and then pass out keys to the tenants. Hotels have fallen upon evil days, as most of them have built barber shops around, in front of, and even in their washrooms, and free-lance patrons are not encouraged.

Salesmen seldom, if ever, buy a full tank of gas for the car. They leave the (continued on page 24)Dearth of a Salesman(continued from page 21) tank at least half empty at all times. This is known as the "Emergency Measure" (no, no, gentle reader ... they leave the room in the tank for gasoline). If all else fails, they do pull into a gas station and have the attendant put in a couple dollars' worth of gas as an excuse for stopping. Where salesmen have a run of "good luck" (calling on somebody next door to a bus depot one afternoon, across the street from a museum the next afternoon, etc.), they run completely out of gas quite frequently.

If near the outskirts of town, some salesmen head for deserted roads to take advantage of the quaint custom commonly practiced out in the country. In the winter time, names and even brand names spelled out in the snow are to be observed often.

Even in the city some unfortunates, usually house-to-house salesmen stranded in a residential neighborhood, get so desperate that they go into an alley or a park with a lot of bushes, although none of them would ever admit it. However, this is not only considered indelicate, it can be downright dangerous, besides. Every once in awhile, some little old lady will walk by at the wrong time, and like as not call the cops and have the poor guy clapped in durance vile for indecent exposure.

House-to-house salesmen are known as the camels of the industry, only in reverse. One of their conventions in Chicago last fall was almost a complete flop because they had not one, but four washrooms serving the convention hall. The salesmen were so enthralled with the commodious plumbing they spent half their time in the can admiring the fixtures.

All salesmen are notorious for sluffting off work. Selling, writing, doing artwork, running a business, or anything else demanding self discipline is difficult for most people, and impossible for many. Salesmen have the worst reputation of any of them, however, and the jokesmiths work overtime (they work in teams) making the most of their gold-bricking. But salesmen have a reason for knocking off work ... yep, you guessed it. When a salesman is found at a ball-game, in the movies, or in a saloon when he should be working, the chances are excellent that an important factor in his decision is the plumbing provided therein.

Once having paid his way into anywhere, there is no sense in wasting the money. Metropolitan salesmen who pay their way into sÈbway stations to go to the john quite often take a ride someplace subsequently, just for the hell of it. This healthful and invigorating respite from the work day may seem like a waste of time, but it gives the internal organs a chance to resume their normal size and shape once again.

"Becoming a customer" is admittedly the coward's way out. But picture a man in a strange neighborhood. He's been working hard since early morning. He had lunch at a drug store. There are no museums, hospitals, or bus depots in sight. The public library is at the other end of town, and his gas tank is full (too). He's even miles from the open country, and with all those little old ladies peering down alleys (some with field glasses), he is desperate. He is surrounded by hundreds or thousands of homes all bulging with plumbing fixtures, and the sensation is similar to that of the man dying of thirst on an open (concluded on page 69)

Salesman(continued from page 24) raft out at sea.

There's only one thing to do – throw in the sponge (now there's an idea for an auto accessory). When quitting work is the only solution to the problem, quit.

With a saloon across the street, what would you do? And once you get beer on your breath, there's no point in trying to work any more that day. Besides, once a salesman admits defeat, he can't sell anything more anyhow ... he's better off waiting until tomorrow. He can most profitably spend his time over the beer planning for that tomorrow, with a tile-lined lunch stop, a call near the city hall, and an empty tank of gas.

The motto of the selling industry, more than that of any other craft, applies to all facets of the business … "Never miss an opportunity."