"Who was born in a house full of pain
Who was trained not to spit in the fan
Who was told what to do by the man
Who was broken by trained personnel
Who was fitted with collar and chain
Who was given a seat in the stand
Who was breaking away from the pack
Who was only a stranger at home
Who was ground down in the end
Who was found dead on the phone
Who was dragged down by the stone."- Roger Waters
I didn't become a salseman by choice. It's not something that you think about as a boy and say "mommy can you please buy me the Hasbro salesman starter kit with the briefcase and kneepads?". Sales is something you usually just end up in. Like my brother Les says I "Forrest Gumped" my way into it. Or maybe you've heard the expression "90% of life is just showing up". Well technically that's true, and in fact I'm living proof. But the reality is when you just show up for life and expect things to happen, you are just as likely to end up shoveling shit as you are to own Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. Actually,...the shit shoveling is far more likely.
The problem is I hate sales. I hate the type A personalities that permeate the industry. I hate the "ethical flexibility". I just flat out hate the fact that I'm a salesman, which is everything I never wanted to be. But, I have no one to blame but myself. I fucked off for the first 25 years of my life because I was pretty sure I'd be a rock star right now. I coasted through high school by covincing my teachers that if I got a bad grade it was somehow their fault for not challenging me. When that approach failed in college, I did the only thing I could. Drink. Heavily. I drank away my scholarship after one year and meandered through a number of dead end jobs until...I met Mrs. Herb. It didn't take me long to realize I was a much more attractive partner if I wasn't slinging burritos or selling weed out of the back of my pick up and having few other options, I went into sales. The one occupation where you need no degree, education, or previous experience. You just need a solid command of the English language. And even if you don't, you can probably get by.
I'm telling you this so when you hear stories about my work, you don't ask yourself "why the hell doesn't he just leave?". Well, I have the golden handcuffs on . I make good money and I have no transferrable job skills. The combination of the two forces me to deal with this zoo whether I like it or not. And now with little Herbie Jr. on the way, I'm definitely not going anywhere.
So what about this place? What makes it so crazy? Well let me just throw a few examples at you (Please understand I have changed names and combined some personalities in order to not get sued):
One week after I started, one of the principals of my company danced on a pool table shouting "Let's do some cocaine!!! Let's do some cocaine!!!!!". Followed by him molesting a female VP (which is odd, considering he's openly homosexual) and then firing me for suggesting that he probably shouldn't drive home. Needless to say I'm still here. Not the last time I was fired by the way.
A new employee came to a company sponsored luncheon (which of course was open bar) only to have a certain high level executive ask him "Have you ever had sex with a man before? No? Well would you like to have sex with a man?"
Just the other day, a high level executive took 1/3 of the company out to lunch and never came back. They just stayed out and drank all day while everyone else was instructed to "pick up the slack".
And my favorite. A manager took their employee out drinking on a two hour lunch. They both came back tanked. The employee was then expected to go into a previously scheduled sales review where the manager that took her out, proceeded to reprimand her for taking long lunches and drinking.
That should give you the gist of what I see on a day to day basis. Now I can tell you stories from here as they happen and you will have some idea of what I am talking about.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment