Sales School Part 2

I waited in the hotel lobby alone. There weren’t too many people there, and none of them were college aged. Where were they? How would I recognize them? I bided the time by looking around from my secure vantage point, a chair placed against a wall of the room. The red and gold carpet was faded and the pile was beat down. Some spots were worn bare. Dark, heavy curtains hung over tall, dramatic windows of hazy glass. The ceiling was ballroom height and lit by chandeliers with a noticeable number of unlit bulbs. The air was close and musty. At one time this must have been a grand and elegant place, but now through years of neglect it seemed cheap and used.

Time went by and my thoughts went back to what had brought me here to this hotel lobby. What had brought me to accept a summer job with so many unknown aspects. There was a real scarcity of summer jobs in suburban Long Island, where home was. My chances of finding something there were nil. Last year was a complete nightmare. I was home alone with my Mom. She and Dad had divorced when I was thirteen. Mom was irretrievably embittered by the experience and took it out on the only other person in the house that summer; me.

She would scream at me that my inability to find a summer job was my fault because I didn’t want one enough. She’d say, “You spoiled, lazy, snot nosed brat! You think that money grows on trees! I work hard all day to support you ungrateful brats. Your fucking, good for nothing, bum of a father never sends child support. You’re growing up just like him. You don’t give a shit about helping me out. Get out and earn your keep!” She’d yell, “Get out there and pound that pavement!” There was always a tiny voice in me telling me that I couldn’t be all that bad at such an early age, but I took what she said to heart anyway.

I didn’t drive yet, nor did I have a car, so any job I found I had to be able to get to by bicycle. Public transportation did not exist there either. This kept jobs at all of the shopping malls out of my reach. Mom expected me to ‘pound the pavement’ for eight hours a day, every day, until I got a job. It took me weeks to find one last summer, and each day that I returned home I feared that if I hadn’t pounded the pavement long and hard enough, Mom would pound me verbally. She was not above becoming unpredictably violent either, and although this was sporadic, I feared her. I had feared her my entire childhood. She had three inches on me and at least 30 pounds. Sometimes she would chase me out of the house and not let me back in until after dark. My twin sister and brother had made their quick escapes as soon as they could. My brother attended an Ivy League School and worked summers there in the greenhouses, and my sister worked at Saratoga Race Track the first summer and Parchment the next. Taking Mom’s haranguing during high school had been enough for my brother and twin.

My first summer home, I found a job at a local hotel as a pool side cocktail waitress. I remember my interview. This big fat ugly Italian guy with sleazy written across his face was hoping I would attract customers to the hotel. “Do you look good in a bikini?” he asked with great interest.

“Yes, I look great in a bikini.” I answered reluctantly, but with ‘go get them’ career like enthusiasm. I guessed I would look okay in my blue bikini with the tiny white checks. But I certainly wasn’t any bombshell. At nineteen, I was five foot four and one hundred pounds, really petite and naturally thin as only a teenager could be. I had shoulder length dirty blond hair and green eyes and freckles. People have always told me I was ‘cute’ and had a wonderful smile.
“Would you wear thigh high white patent leather boots?” he drooled.

“Um, no. I mean, its summer, I have some nice white sandals with a heel.” I was pretty scandalized by the thought of the bikini, wearing boots was too much. Was he going to ask me to be a prostitute, or what? But it was a job, and I was desperate. He settled for the sandals, what a relief.

That job was pretty degrading, although thinking that someone would actually want to see me in a bikini raised my self esteem somewhat. All summer the hotel had very few guests. I didn’t end up serving too many drinks and feared I would be fired. A few of the people were staying at the hotel the whole summer. They were very nice, and used to order sodas from the bar, so that I would look busier. I got to know these ‘regulars’ and when they found out I had been captain of my synchronized swimming team in high school, they would pay me a buck to do a synchronized swimming trick in the hotel pool for them. It was kind of bizarre, but it was nice to cool off, and I liked it better than being a cocktail drink waitress.

At first my Mom was pleased that I had found a job. But in just a few days she was shrieking at me again. “I can’t stand the sight of you just sitting around the house after work! Just get out of my sight! You’re so lazy. That job isn’t really work. Strutting around a pool all day! You hardly make any money in tips. I can’t figure who would want to look at you anyway. It’s not like your busty or anything. Why don’t you get a real job, or a second job?” She’d lunge at me and I’d run out of the house in fear for my life. When I’d return to the house she would say she missed me when I was at school during the semester and she wanted to hug me. I was afraid to get that close to her because she might reverse moods suddenly. I tried to stay out of her way and just survive the summer last year.

I was bound and determined for that not to happen again in the summer of 1976. It was the two hundredth anniversary of our country’s independence on the fourth of July and in late August I would turn 20 years old. I would be an adult, not a teenager. INDEPENDENCE. That’s what I wanted most. Independence from my abusive, degrading, controlling mother. Independence for me. I needed to know if I could make it on my own. I considered staying in my college town for the summer, but I had heard that jobs were scarce there as well, and Mom wanted me at home, under her thumb. Both my sister and brother had already made their escape from Mom, and I was all that was left for her. I considered declaring myself financially independent from my mother, but she promised that if I left her without my dependent tax deduction, she would disown me and never send me another penny. She wasn’t kidding. Her threat truly frightened me and I didn’t think I was ready to challenge her, never having been financially independent before.

When I heard about the job with Parchment from my twin sister Evie it seemed the perfect answer. Mom would support it, because it was a job for the whole summer. Yet, I would be away from home for the entire summer and free from the threat of abuse. Better yet, it would be a true test of whether I could make it on my own. It would be a step in my search for independence. I never could get Evie to tell me much about what the job was like, though and that left me a bit suspicious about the whole enterprise.

But here I was in Nashville, now having to deal with the reality of my choice. The whole summer of 1976 was an enormous unknown to me. I had taken this job selling bible books door-to-door. I was to be trained for one week at the Hermitage Hotel in Nashville, and then sent to a Southern location for the summer. This unknown location, to be determined by others and revealed to me the night before my departure, would be my sales territory and home for the duration of the summer. I chose to view it like the Tolkien’s Trilogy. Frodo made a perilous journey of there and back again to fight Sauron’s evil forces and destroy the one ring. No evil forces were in sight for me, I’d just be selling books, but it was a journey that would take me to who knows where and back again. I would try to face the unknown, and my fears on a day-by-day basis.

So, there I was waiting to meet my fellow sales people, who had already checked in but were out and about. Most of them were from the mid-West. I waited for what seemed like an eternity (I hate to wait) but was at least an hour. Finally four college-aged people came into the lobby. I watched them from my safe perch, feeling suddenly shy and not daring to rush up to them immediately. A young man in an untucked orange tee shirt and jeans was the standout in the crowd. He had tanned and solidly built guy with striking farm boy cuteness and a sun burnt nose. His short hair was darkest brown, his eyes were piercing blue, and he sported a small moustache. He was at least six feet tall and well muscled. I pictured that he got that way hauling bales of hay, or some other rigorous farm work. I don’t think I had seen any guys as handsome as him in my whole college.

My urge to join the group won over my shyness, and I walked up to the young man and introduced myself. “Hi! I’m Sue Fairview. You wouldn’t happen to be from Parchment, would you?”

He looked me over from head to toe in a manner both rude and flirtatious and said, “Yes, nice to meet you. I’m Chip, and this is Mary, this is my brother Davie, and this is Gregg. We are all from Missouri.” He smiled broadly, quite pleased with himself, it seemed.

I never would have guessed that Davie was Chip’s brother, he was so unlike him. He was shorter and less sturdy looking than Chip, to begin with, had buttery blonde curly hair, but he had same blue eyes. He had an angelic face, and I knew he was a nice guy, just by the sight of him.

Gregg’s most noticeable feature was his height. He was six feet four inches or so I would have guessed. He was also quite handsome. He had very short brown hair, almost a crew cut, but the long bone structure of his face, especially his strong chiseled jaw, was beautiful in a very masculine way and he carried off the look quite well. Let’s face it, he was a hunk too.

Mary was taller than me, maybe five foot six inches. She was sinewy and her bone structure was sturdy. She had wide and strong looking hands. She looked like she could lift those bales of hay right beside Chip. She had pale blonde hair and pale blue eyes set far apart on a wide but pretty face with high cheekbones. She had a small mouth with thin beige lips and a straight nose. She had a very square jaw though, that seemed out of place on her face and gave her a somewhat hard look.

“Um, I’m from Long Island, New York. Glad to meet you.”

Chip continued to speak on behalf of the group. “I’ll be your sales manager this summer. I am also managing Davie and Mary this summer. You and Mary will be roommates and share territory for the summer.” Mary and I searched each others’ faces for answers to all of those unasked questions between us. I could tell that both of us wanted to get to know each other quickly, since we would be spending the whole summer together.

I felt relieved to make contact with my colleagues. They all seemed so nice so far. We all went upstairs so that Chip could introduce me to his boss, the sales director. He explained that sales directors oversaw sales for a region of the country. Robbie, our sales director, had twenty or so managers reporting to him, and would be in charge of sales school this week. More weeks of training would take place after ours as colleges let out for the summer, and the total number of sales people in the U.S. would be up around a thousand or so.

We caught up to Robbie’s group in the hallway, which was suddenly crowded with Parchmenters. “Sue, this is Robbie, our sales director.” said Chip. Robbie looked up from the crowd of Parchmenters obviously trying to score points with him. He looked older than the rest of us, maybe thirty. But somehow he looked boyishly immature at the same time. His shock of thick black hair fell over his white small featured face. His eyes were dark brown and I saw nothing discernable when I looked into them. He kept a poker face while he sized me up. Robbie shook my hand firmly with his soft hand and said in a flirtatious manner, “Hi, so nice to meet you.” He squinted his eyes at me and continued. “You do look a lot like your twin sister Evie. But, I think she’s cuter than Evie, don’t you Gregg?” Robbie moved around as if to see me from all angles, or check out my ass.

“Yeah.”, replied Gregg as he also looked at my face in an analytical, but not disinterested way. They went on about details of this comparison and I felt uncomfortable being the center of attention at all, but somehow flattered at the same time. It’s disconcerting to meet strangers that know your twin, and so recognize you instantly and know something about you already. I smiled and pressed my back against the hallway wall for support. Maybe they thought I was cuter because my hair was longer than Evie’s, and of course, she had a boyfriend already.

Robbie gave us stapled copies of the week’s agenda, and Mary and I went to our room to look them over and get acquainted. “Well, I guess I’ll start by telling you about myself.” Mary said. I’m majoring nursing in college and I’m from Kansas City and I belong to the Church of Latter Day Saints.” She had an open and friendly manner. “It’s your turn.”

It was the typical introduction given between college roomies. “I go to school at the State University of New York at Cayuga and my major is biology. I was raised as a Roman Catholic, but I don’t go to church anymore.” I was reluctant to tell her that I was an atheist. I thought that since she was religious, it might come between us. “I am from Long Island, New York.”

“Wow you’re the first New Yorker I’ve ever met. So you live in the city?”

“Not really, I was raised in the suburbs. Where my school is there are mostly dairy farms and apple orchards. It’s about three hundred miles from New York City.”

“Oh, I didn’t know there were rural areas like that in New York.” She changed the subject. “I guess we have to share the bed tonight.” She didn’t really seem as put out as I did about it.

“Yeah, I called for a rollaway and there weren’t any available.” We smiled at each other. We both found ourselves in the same predicament. Future largely unknown, thrown together in a small hotel room, expected to be ready to sell books door-to-door at God knows where in just a week; we bonded quickly out of necessity.

We reviewed the week’s agenda together. “Gosh, events were scheduled every day starting at 7:00 AM and they don’t end until around midnight!” I said. “So much for sight seeing in Nashville.”

“Yeah, Chip told me we would be too busy for that. But we all go out as a group to meals together; Chip, Gregg and Davie and us, and that will be fun. Of course you will come with us.” It did sound like fun, and she seemed so excited to include me that I couldn’t wait until dinner time. Finally I was with other people and felt like I belonged.

Sales School Part 3

Eventually there was a knock on the door and it was the guys, Chip, Davie and Gregg, letting us know it was time for dinner. We all took the elevator to the lobby as one happy little group. Everyone was so energetic and upbeat. The five of us exited the hotel and struck out walking for the Shoney’s Big Boy about five blocks away. Like many groups walking together, we walked down the sidewalk in twos. I was next to Mary, and we chatted away happily about college life. Chip walked up beside us as if he wanted to talk to me. Mary moved in front with Davie. Gregg was ahead of us.

“How was your trip down to Nashville?” he asked looking into my eyes and smiling.

“The flight was okay, but the bus from the Hermitage wasn’t there and I had to pay for a cab.”

“That’s too bad. I hope it didn’t cost too much. At least you’re here with us now, and I’m glad that you came.” He put his arm around my waist in a friendly way. I returned the gesture, giving him a little pat on the side. It felt so supportive to have his arm around me, but I expected that he would withdraw it after a brief time. He didn’t. So we walked all the way to Shoney’s arm-in-arm. I wondered if he was flirting with me and the thought of it excited me because he was so damned handsome.

When we got to Shoney’s, Chip removed his arm from my waist before any of our group could look back to see. It just kind of left me wondering what that was all about. Chip sat next to me at dinner. We all had greasy hamburgers with fries and coleslaw. Chip and Gregg joked how they ate all of their meals at this Shoney’s last year because it was cheap, and it was the only place that served breakfast at six o’clock in the morning. We agreed to meet there the next morning, eat breakfast and return to the Hermitage in time for the seven o’clock meeting. We finished dinner and walked back to the Hermitage. Again I walked next to Mary. The men walked behind us, laughing and joking. Mary and I were still getting to know each other, and we didn’t pay particular attention to the guys’ conversation.

Mary and I went to room 515 together. According to the schedule, this would be our last opportunity to get a good night’s sleep. Also, we had to be up by at least five-thirty in the morning to meet the guys at Shoney’s. We put on our night gowns and lay down on the bed. She had already chosen the left side, which was alright with me. It was too hot in the room to have anything but the sheet over us. The busyness of the day was over and I started to think. I guess she did too.

“Sue, where do you think we’ll end up for the summer?”

“I don’t know. The furthest south I’ve ever been is the most northern part of South Carolina.”

“I’ve never been south before either. I mean except for this trip to Nashville. What was it like in South Carolina?”

“I don’t really remember. I was only thirteen and my family went to see a total eclipse of the sun.”

“Really, I’ve never seen that.”

“What I remember most was that it got twilight dark during mid day, the birds stopped singing and the passing cars put their headlights on.”

“I’m a little bit scared.” she suddenly admitted.

“Me too. But at least we’ll be together, and that we know for sure.”

She reached her hand out to me and we clasped our hands for a few minutes. It was very comforting to have her there close to me with all of the uncertainty ahead of us. I felt almost ashamed for asking for a rollaway bed and then telling her I did. I don’t think that she had asked for one.

The entire group, about 150 people met together Monday morning at 7:00 AM for the start of training. We all sat in the hotel conference room on folding chairs with our identical light tan sales cases at our feet. I sat next to Mary. The twenty or so sales managers were all seated in the front row. First we were welcomed while ‘Me and Mrs. Jones (we’ve got a thing goin’ on)’, an old song by Billy Gregg, was played over the loud speaker system. We then listened to a motivational talk. The person who gave the talk was upbeat verging on manic.

Some group sloganeering took place after that. A slogan would be cheered by Robbie and the managers, and the audience was asked to repeat it. We never repeated it loud enough for Robbie, though, and so the repetitions went on until I for one, was hoarse. It reminded me of the Marines, when recruits have to say, “Yes sir!” to the commanding officer as loudly as possible.

Next, the key factor in selling books, the approach, was demonstrated. On the risers at the front of the room, a working screen and storm door was set up. It was supposed to be Mrs. Jones’ front door. Robbie stood behind the door and played the role of Mrs. Jones, the potential customer. One at a time, sales managers had to go up onto the stage, knock on that door, give the approach and role play with Robbie. The first manager who went up would demonstrate the perfect approach. I strained to see and listened carefully. He knocked on the door three times and then retreated a few paces from the door. Robbie stopped the action and explained how essential this move away from the door was. We did not want Mrs. Jones to feel threatened when she opened her door. We wanted her to be drawn to us, to lean on the door, grasping the handle, straining to hear our every word. The demonstration continued. The manager said, “Hi there, Mrs. Jones! My name is Mark Treland and I’ve been calling on all of the church folks in the neighborhood. Just wanted to come by and see you. You all do go to some local church, don’t you? May I come in?” He made a slight gesture with his hand towards the door as if to precipitate it being opened. His delivery was slow, and deliberate. He used a southern drawl and his eyes twinkled in a friendly and sweet manner. His face looked sincere and focused as if Mrs. Jones was the only human being on earth that he had any interest in. He was absolutely mesmerizing and I was twenty feet away. Robbie gave the desired response. He, as Mrs. Jones, unquestioningly opened the door.

“Wow, could I do that?” I wondered to myself. The skits continued. The next manager came up to the door in a cocky manner and knocked. I guess he was really nervous and forgot to back away from the door. Robbie yelled from the other side, “Get away from my door or I’ll shoot!” Everyone laughed at the manager that had erred.

“Let me try again…” he pleaded, knocking on the door again and backing off.

“Next!” yelled Robbie curtly from behind the door. The audience laughed again. Every manager had to go up alone and face that door with Robbie behind it. None of them were allowed to succeed, and all of them were mocked for their failure. Robbie slammed the door in their faces, and screamed at them. At first the managers were confident, but as each one was mocked, the next was progressively more nervous when facing the door. Robbie explained that we should not be intimidated or personally offended by a door slammed in our faces. We should expect it. Every slammed door brought us closer to an open one, and a sale. Each ‘no’, brought one closer to a ‘yes’.

I heard what he was saying, but found myself deathly afraid that I would be called upon to go to the front of the room to give my approach, and be mocked, even though I knew in advance that only the managers would be called. It was clear to me however, that we were all vulnerable to public shaming, as was seen fit by Robbie at any time. I sure as hell was going to try to stay on his good side, and I guessed that that was the point of the opening demonstration too.

I was really glad when the group teaching part was over and we broke into little groups to practice the approach. We broke into work groups of four or five people plus a sales manager to role play the approach and later give the completely memorized book demonstrations to each other. I hadn’t completely memorized all of the book demonstrations yet. I knew the one for the Bible Dictionary and Family Bible Library, but was shaky on the Health book and educational set. The practice role playing was a good opportunity to learn the demonstrations once and for all, and there certainly was motivation to do so. To my relief, I was not the only one who didn’t know them all by heart. Mary knew them better than me, but she needed work on the Health book demonstration too.

We were taught to learn a southern drawl as soon as possible. The sales managers took turns coaching us using their past experiences. At any time, one could be called on to give a demonstration publicly or to Robbie entirely from memory. I feared this. It would be like a college oral exam in front of all of ones’ peers, no stress there. Right. All of the subsequent group events were high pressured. Sales managers who role played demonstrations in front of the entire audience were chided and debased for failure to sell books to the always difficult ‘Mrs. Jones’. Group repetition of Parchment slogans continued daily. We practiced saying, “You cute little bugger, don’t you ever die!” to ourselves. Chip’s group, including me, went to breakfast, lunch and dinner together. No free time was scheduled, and typically to complete all assigned work, we stayed up until 1:00 or 2:00 AM each day. Needless to say, we only got about 4 hours of sleep each night.

I remember telephoning my mother one night. I told her that I felt that Parchment was trying to brainwash us. I was surprised when she replied, “Well honey, you can always come home.” Enough said, I was determined to stay. I couldn’t stand the thought of giving up and going home in the first week, or ever. I’d never hear the end of it about my failure from Mom, and more was at stake here. I had to earn my independence; no one said it would be easy. Right then and there, I made a pact with myself that I would do what ever I needed to keep the job with Parchment and survive the summer. I didn’t need to be brainwashed to learn to judge for myself how best to succeed selling books. So some or most people might be brainwashed, but not me. I could remain intact, thinking for myself.

That night I asked Mary, “Did you know that the tactics that the company is using are the same kind used for brainwashing groups of people? Do you think that the company is trying to brainwash us?”

She replied in a somewhat frightening monotone, “I am sure that everything the company is doing is in my best interest...” I felt kind of like the body snatchers had gotten her.

During the whole week, Chip continued to be flirtatious with me. A day after the walk arm-in-arm to Shoney’s he asked me, “Did you like that? Did you like my arm around you?” This was followed by a longing look.

“Yes.”, I said and I returned his look. He reached out and squeezed my hand and smiled. He leaned forward and gave me a little kiss on the lips. His lips were warm and wet. My heart pounded with excitement and I hoped he couldn’t hear it. He looked around as if to make sure no one had seen us, then we parted to attend our next meetings.

Later that night he took me aside in a hallway and asked if I liked him, and if I wanted to tour the hotel with him. I wasn’t exactly sure what he had in mind, but said, “Yes.” I was so attracted to him that I didn’t really feel in control. We held hands as we walked down the stairs to the basement of the hotel. There we found a deserted storage room filled with discarded mattresses and broken furniture. We sat down on a pile of mattresses and started kissing seriously. His hands roamed over my body and I held onto his strong shoulders.

Suddenly Chip whispered, “Don’t you think God would like to see us as he made us?”

At first I didn’t understand what he meant, so I said, “Excuse me?”

“Like God made us, when we were born.” he repeated seductively.

It was as if someone had thrown ice water on me. What did God or religion have to do with what he apparently wanted? Twisted! I was put off by his abruptness, too. I didn’t really go with him exploring the hotel with it in mind that we would have sex. Apparently he did. A relationship or even a date would have been nice. I decided that the whole venture with Chip was a terrible mistake. He thought that this disgusting line would make me strip for him? It was so insulting. I also wondered what other women bought the line. I sat up and said, “That line works for you?”

“Um, what’s the matter? I’m sorry; we can just hold each other if you like.”

“I’m really tired Chip and I’d like to go back to my room.” I didn’t voice my disgust with his tactics, however, because he was after all my sales manager. He did not seem offended, nor did he pressure me. He gallantly walked me to my room, to make sure I was okay. When I got there I didn’t tell Mary what had happened because she had been friends with Chip for a long time and I had no idea what their relationship was.

During the week we also learned all the details we needed to know to sell books. We learned how to scout the territory, read mailboxes and memorize names, and make connections through local churches to the residents. We learned how to manipulate the customer by getting that first ‘yes’ that gained entry to their home. From the time they opened the door to when the books were delivered at the end of the summer, and final balance collected we would control their every response. We learned how to pressure and intimidate the customer into making a purchase and handing over the deposit, even if they really didn’t want to. We would begin to fill the sales slip out before any sale was agreed to. Delivery was a deliberate exercise in control. We were supposed to rush in the door, and begin unwrapping the books all over the floor with great excitement hopefully attracting any children in the house. Mrs. Jones would be too ashamed not to accept the delivery and pay us the balance after that. Every aspect of day to day selling and survival was covered. We learned how to ask Mrs. Jones to feed us for free so that she would be shamed into it by saying, “I’d give you a quarter, Mrs. Jones for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” was the recommended line. There was even a separate lecture for women sales people on how to not become a victim and how to spot and handle troublesome men. That lecture did not do much to allay my fears that being out and about all summer could make me vulnerable to God knows what.

The schedule for every sales week of the summer would be the same. On Sundays, all money collected from the previous week was to be ‘remitted’ to the company with the week’s sales statement. The ‘remitted’ money would be held in an account for each sales person. The sales statement included expenses, number of hours worked each day; number of demonstrations delivered each day, daily and total sales, and all deposits. Attendance at Sunday sales meetings was required. Failure to miss two meetings in a row was grounds for termination. On Monday morning one was not to eat until one had sold a book to get the money for breakfast (hopefully). Working hours were from 8:00 AM to 9:00 PM Monday through Saturday. The goal was for us to work at least 80 hours per week. We were supposed to sell books every week of the summer, leaving one or two weeks at the end of the summer to deliver the books we sold. Our last day of the summer was to be spent being debriefed back at headquarters in Nashville. This was also when accounts would be settled and we would be paid what was earned all summer.

The goal was to sell enough books during the summer to make money to live on, and have money left over to bring back to school. To do this we needed to knock on enough doors, and get into enough houses so that we could give 15 full demonstrations every day. Parchment had it all worked out that this formula would result in the basic number of book sales to meet the goal. To be able to make all of these demonstrations in one day we had to spend no more than 20 minutes in each house. “Pretend your sales case is a time bomb you are sitting on ready to go off in 20 minutes if you don’t get out.”, said Robbie. “Every ‘no’ leads to a ‘yes’. Every slammed door brings one closer to the sale. Work the territory like a spider spinning a web, be methodical and don’t skip houses. All territory is good territory, there is no such thing as bad territory.”

Some of the ‘trainees’ suffered under the stress of the week. I remember one young man sat on his sales case in a corner of the hallway trembling and repeating the demonstrations over and over to him self. Each time he made a mistake he would chastise himself out loud. He and a few others ended up dropping out during sales training week because the stress was more than they could bear. Gossip about these ‘failures’ was abundant. Mostly these people were ridiculed because they couldn’t cut it. We were better than they because we stayed on.

Any complaint about the training or schedule was not well received. As a matter of fact, any show of doubt, dissent or even weakness was rewarded with a private, or worse yet, public browbeating by Robbie or a sales manager. I tried my best to stay in line and comply with any directives. We were also taught that under no circumstances were we to share our weaknesses or pain with any colleagues and especially not with our roommates, as it was bad for morale and might spoil their sales too.

One afternoon we visited Parchment headquarters in an industrial park outside of Nashville. The halls were lined with photos of successful sales people going back for years. I think that they went back to the 1930's. The black and white photos from that time were all of white men with crew cuts and many with horn rimmed glasses. Further down the hall, the pictures were in color and I saw an occasional woman or black who was a star sales person. Minorities and women were very rare, and I wondered why.

Financial aspects were more rumored than covered out right that day. The scuttlebutt was that a good summer for first year sales people was $3,000 to $5,000 net earnings. Success in the second year meant net earnings of $7,000 to $8,000 per summer, although earnings of $15,000 and up were not uncommon, and sales of $20,000-30,000 were rumored for people who sold three or more summers. Of course, in the second summer one could be a sales manager and get a cut of sales peoples’ earnings from the company’s share. In other words, Chip was going to get a cut of Mary’s, Davie’s and my sales this summer.

There wasn’t really enough room for us to practice our demos inside the building and it was really noisy in the halls with all of the sales people repeating demonstrations to each other. Chip suggested that I go outside on the lawn with him to practice. At first I was a little suspicious of his invitation, but when I got outside, Mary and Davie were already out there. It was much more peaceful outside in the sunshine. Mary and I quietly practiced with each other, taking turns being the sales person, or Mrs. Jones. Mary was a kind study partner. What we were doing was not unlike cramming for finals at college. Chip took turns practicing with us and giving us the benefit of his experience. What I remember most about that afternoon was the killdeer swooping around the building in the bright sunshine calling, “kill-dee, kill-dee, kill-dee…!”

Excitement started to build toward Friday night, when territories were going to be announced. There was whooping and laughing in the halls when people found out their location assignments. Some quietly voiced disappointment with a particular locale or selection of roommates. I was glad that since Mary and I were the only women in sales school this week we already knew we would be roommates. Parchment would never have men and women room together. Finally, Mary and I learned that we were assigned to Athens, Georgia, a small college town not far from Atlanta that was also home to the University of Georgia. We had the whole town and surrounding Clark County to ourselves, and would, of course, be roommates. Neither of us had ever been that far south before. The area was unknown to us, but at least we knew where we were going.

A ride had been arranged for us with other sales people whose territory was adjacent to ours in Oconee County (south of Clark) and we were to leave from Nashville early Saturday morning.

Athens, Georgia Here We Come

After numerous packing delays, we actually set off for Georgia. Mary and I sat in the back seat together and tried to plan how we would settle in Athens as the car passed state lines from Tennessee into Georgia. We couldn’t wait to see the area we would be living in all summer. It was a longer car trip than I thought it would be and we did not arrive even to the Atlanta area until after dark. The driver tuned the radio to a local station and right away a tornado warning was announced. Three tornadoes had been sighted in the Athens area, right where we were headed. I hadn’t figured on tornadoes. I was petrified of tornadoes. We never had any on Long Island and from what I did know they caused indiscriminate destruction and death. Heavy rain pelted the car windows and I could not see much of anything outside in the inky blackness. If a tornado did come, would we see it in enough time to escape? Would we hear it, sounding like a train approaching us? I only heard the thunder, rain, the car’s engine and the wind shield wipers slapping back and forth. The mood in the car was subdued to say the least. The driver strained to see the road ahead. Lightening flashed, illuminating everything suddenly. It was like that the whole way from Atlanta to Athens.

Finally we arrived in Athens. The guys dropped us off at a cheap motel on Broad Street, apparently the main drag. It was raining too hard to even glance around outside, and we grabbed our stuff out of the trunk and ran inside the motel. Even so we were soaked by rain blowing sideways. The rooms were $30 a night. That was really splurging, considering the target rates the company had taught us. Also, I had very little money left from what I had brought with me to Nashville. But, we had gotten there too late to make other arrangements. The storm was audible even in our room. I wondered if the threat of tornadoes was over, and doubted it. I wasn’t sure if we had been safer in the car than under the motel’s roof.

Although there were two double beds in the room Mary asked if we could share one as we had in Nashville. She was frightened by the storm and the uncertainty of our prospects. So was I. I did not object. Actually I welcomed the comfort of our being together. There was no question that we were a team.

I managed to sleep rather well, probably from the lack of it during the week in sales school. The next morning was sunny and bright. The storm had passed. We checked out of the hotel and explored Athens on foot. Parts of it were quite lovely, especially the historic parts of downtown and the fraternity area of the campus. It would be wonderful to live in those areas for the summer. We bought some local news papers and spent Sunday looking through the classified ads for lodging, and visiting rentals. This was difficult because according to the company’s budget plan we were to pay no more than $15 per week. We looked at some beautiful fraternity and sorority houses on the University of Georgia campus, but these were way too expensive.

We stopped and telephoned Beverly, the mother of a former Parchment sales person, whose phone number the company had provided us with. She sounded very nice and said that she had company that night, but we could stay at her house on Monday and Tuesday night. I was astounded by the hospitality of her offer. She also offered a few hints of where to look for lodging in Athens. We were relieved to have someplace to stay those two days, but as the afternoon approached we were in a panic as to where to stay that night. We had spent all most all of our funds for the motel the night before. I was pretty anxious about not having a place to stay. It occurred to me that just last week my biggest problem was missing the bus to my hotel from the airport. But, I knew that I had to be strong, at least Mary and I were in this together. I had faith that together we would find something.

No Room at the Inn

When all of our leads dried up, we decided to follow another company teaching and seek lodging for the night at a church. We could see church steeples not far away and walked towards them. We stood outside the biggest, showiest, church we could find, the Prince Avenue Baptist Church, trying to get up the nerve to ask the pastor for a place to stay. I felt like we were begging, but resisted the temptation to ask Mary for her thoughts. While we were standing there, a service let out. Well-to-do looking people streamed around, not noticing us. But, two college girls focused right in on us. They came over an introduced themselves. “Hi, I’m Jessica and this is Carolyn.” They spoke in a perky, flirtatious, high pitched southern drawl that seemed to come from the back of their throats.

“Hi, I’m Mary and this is Sue.”

“We stopped because you guys look lost.” Jessica said. They both giggled.

“I guess in a way we are.” Mary said. “We are in Athens for the summer to sell Bible books and we just got into town last night. Seems like we haven’t found a place to stay yet.” Mary was better suited for handling these people than I was with my Yankee accent.

“No place to stay for the night? That’s terrible! You can stay with us in our dormitory! We go to the University and the semester is over and there are lots of empty rooms. Let’s go tell Mommy and Daddy.” With that, they ran off toward two older couples standing further up the church walkway. We stood there not knowing what to do. The girls spoke with their parents briefly. The parents eyed Mary and me suspiciously. In no time the girls ran back to where we stood. “Y’all are so cute, like lost sheep; we just want to adopt you!” They said. “Mommy and Daddy think we’re crazy, but we don’t care, so you’re coming with us.” I didn’t know what to say, except thank you. The girls’ parents loaded us and all of our stuff into their cars and drove us to the dormitory. Jessica and Carolyn chatted on and made us feel so welcome.

It was comforting and familiar to be in a college dorm. Jessica and Carolyn insisted on fussing over us. To our surprise, they prepared a traditional southern dinner for us that night. They took great joy in being the first to introduce us to southern fare. We sat on the floor of their dorm room as they opened the containers brought from one of their parents’ homes. There was southern fried chicken, black eyed peas, and greens. The fried chicken was succulent and crispy with a perfect amount of seasoning. The black eyed beans, which I had never even seen before, were completely unlike the any beans I was used to. They had a subtle bean taste with hints of salted butter. The collard greens were chopped and blanched and topped with bacon grease. That home cooked meal really satisfied more than just my appetite that night. It’s got to be one of the best meals I’ve ever had.

Jessica and Carolyn were so pleasant and optimistic that they breathed hope into me. They also told us that the Prince Baptist Church had free prayer breakfasts at 7:00 AM on Thursday mornings, and they would love for us to come. I wasn’t really that interested, but Mary responded with enthusiasm.

Thursday seemed awfully far away to me.

Jessica and Carolyn had brought extra sheets and blankets from home so that Mary and I would not have to sleep on bare mattresses in the unoccupied dorm rooms. They really took joy in adopting us and seeing to all of our needs. If there was such a thing as a true Christian spirit, they had it. In the morning, we thanked them profusely and I was sorry to leave them and the campus setting that reminded me of a more predictable time at school when ahead was only the unknown.

Serial Rapist

I continued to go from trailer to trailer that morning. I had to skip many because the folks were not at home, and I didn’t really get into many others. I felt pretty de-motivated by the time I met up with Mary again.

“Hi. Great to see you again.” I said to her. “Did it go okay?” I was dying to ask her out right how she did, but I knew that the Parchment rule was that it was not okay to ask.

“Everything is fine.” she said blandly. Her poker face kept me in the dark as to how she had really fared. I thought I noticed an upbeat mood, and maybe that meant that she had sold a book. Maybe if I told her how I did, she wouldn’t be offended by my breaking the rules and would reciprocate. After all, she couldn’t really intend to go through the entire summer without sharing her experiences with me.

“Well, I’ll tell you first.” I started. “I didn’t sell anything, but managed to get in a few demonstrations.” Then I just waited for her response.

She smiled. “That’s great Sue, but be careful, we’re not really supposed to tell each other things like that.” Guess I’d never know if she’d made a sale yet. Moreover, she was sticking to the rule about not discussing sales results, good or bad with her roommate. I was disappointed because I had hoped she could see beyond this one rule.

We went to the town tourist information center and got two maps of Athens. We sat on a cement bench and opened our maps. They were up-to-date and had little dots representing each house. We decided to divide our territory in half so that each of us could pick one of the halves. We looked over the little house dots and tried to split the map fairly. Broad Street bisected the town evenly from East to West, and she chose the northern section of Athens. I took the Southern section.

It was lunch time, and we knew from our car ride the night before that it was not a long walk from there to the Varsity, a campus fast food restaurant. We ordered grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch, and to my horror the fry cook behind the counter slathered both sides of the white bread with mayonnaise. I was used to butter, lightly applied to one side of each slice of bread. “Could I have less mayo?” I asked.

“HOLD THE GREASE!” yelled the waitress to the cook. We sat at a metal picnic table outside. I had my first Southern iced tea. I didn’t know it already had sugar in it, so I added more. It was unpalatable, and I was so hot and thirsty. They taught us at sales school to drink a glass of water every hour while selling, and I had not managed to get any all morning.

After lunch, we looked at rooms to let in houses of retired couples in the center of town. This area, between Broad Street and Prince Avenue was an old neighborhood. The houses were huge and looked like they were built circa the 1800's. Most had three stories, were white, and had large pillars in the front around their ample porches. I remember looking at one house in particular. When the front door opened I could smell urine. The old man had had a stroke and now lived sitting on a potty chair. His wife was also ancient and looked overwhelmed with caring for him and the house. I focused on just getting away from the stench. The room was $10 a week. They were nice people and felt pity for them, but there was no way I could stay there.

We had no luck. Places were either too expensive, or just unlivable. It took so much time walking from location to location, that before we knew it the afternoon was over and we telephoned Beverly to pick us up. She lived in a very nice middle class neighborhood on the East side of town. She showed us pictures of her son, who had sold for Parchment some time ago. We stayed in a bedroom upstairs that had white eyelet lace covers and curtains. That evening she gave us dinner and we talked while eating.

“The first thing I ought to let you ladies know is that there is a serial rapist on the loose in downtown Athens. It’s terrible. The victims are young white women. They are raped and then stabbed to death. There have been three murders so far and the police seem to have no leads. You ladies have to be really careful out there.”

We stared at her wide eyed, not knowing what to say to this. “Gee, thanks for letting us know.” said Mary.

Our hostess continued to instruct us. “The murders have been in the part of downtown not far from the projects. It’s really just across Broad Street that the neighborhood is all poor blacks. What ever you do, don’t sell books there because they’ll shoot at you. Anyhow, those folks will want your books, but never come up with the money at delivery.”

“Really?” I asked. “They’d go ahead and order the books when they know they can’t afford them?”

“Yup, they’re too weak to say no, I think. Look, there are lots of great neighborhoods to sell in here in Athens. How about if I drive you to one in the morning after breakfast?”

“Wow that would be great. We don’t want to put you out though.”

“It’s no problem really. I just think of when my son was out there all alone selling books and I hoped that nice people were looking out for him. The least I can do is help any one Parchment steers my way. It’s my pleasure, really.”

The area Beverly proposed was in Mary’s territory, but Mary said that it was alright with her. Beverly also said that she would call some friends of hers to see if they had rooms to let. She was a tremendous help.

Close Call

We slept well, and in the morning Beverly drove us north on Prince Avenue and out of town. She let us off in a suburban development and we spent the day going house-to-house. I didn’t sell any books, but I didn’t seem to have much trouble getting in doors. I estimated that given a full day of selling I could do 15 demos a day easy. I also got al bit more comfortable with the demos. Mary and I rendezvoused after a while. We decided to hitchhike back to town. She was going to follow-up on some lodging leads, and I wanted to start selling on my own and in my own territory. We could meet at a central location later.

We crossed the street and walked to a gas station where we could pick up a ride. I went to the ladies room, and when I came out Mary was waiting for me.

“Hey! It’s all taken care of. I found us a ride with a really nice guy.”, she said excitedly.

“Great!” I said as I rounded the corner of the gas station. I could not believe my eyes. The guy had shoulder length, unkempt oily hair, was not shaved, was dirty, and wore torn clothes. He looked worse than a bum. His car was a beat up old station wagon full of dents and rust. One of the car’s doors hung off of its hinges and I wasn’t sure how it stayed on.

“Mary”, I said, “I don’t think we should take this ride. I mean, look at that guy.”

“Ya know you New Yorkers just don’t trust anyone. This is the South, its different here. He’s just dirty because he works.” she whispered as the guy came up to where we were standing.

The guy smiled and said, “You girls need a ride to town? I’m goin’ there.”

“Mary!” I whispered furiously hoping all the while the guy wouldn’t hear me. “There is no way that we should take this ride with this guy! I refuse to get in his car.”

“Look, I need to make this one decision. Don’t you trust my sense of judgment about people?”

Meanwhile, the guy had walked back to his car to replace his car’s gas cap. He stood by the back passenger side door, and opened it. “Nothin’ to worry about. I’ll take y’all to town.”

Mary got in the back of the car and sat down. It seemed that I could either, abandon her, make a scene or get in. I sat in the front seat next to the driver. “Okay,” I said, “You can take this road straight into town.”

“No problem. This road, straight into town.” It was strange that he repeated me.

Everything seemed okay for the first half a mile or so. After that I saw that there was a right hand turn onto a one lane road. To my horror, he made that right hand turn. I looked over at the guy, but he just kept driving. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was frightened and my adrenaline started to flow. The fact that the road seemed to cut through a woods only heightened my fears. There were no houses or even buildings in sight. I hoped like anything that Mary realized that this was potentially a very dangerous situation. I was too petrified to turn around and look at Mary. I didn’t want to alert the driver to my heightened sense of fear. The car was going about 40 miles per hour; it was too fast to jump out.

We drove on this deserted road for another half a mile. A pickup truck was pulled over to the right up ahead with four people in it. The two guys sitting in the front were wearing caps and had their feet up on the dashboard, and the two in the back of the truck had their feet up on the sides of the truck.

“Hey look!” said our driver, “Its some buddies of mine. Now we can have a party.” He began to slow down and pull over to the side of the road behind the truck.

I was in a panic. Visions of the two of us gang raped entered my brain. I only hoped that Mary also understood that we must get away from this dire situation immediately. I put my left hand on the handle of my sales case, and my right on the door lever. I planted my feet firmly on the floor of the car. I was ready and I had a plan.

Before the car even came to a stop, I had opened the car door. Holding my sales case in my clenched left hand, I jumped out of the still moving car. I had to make some quick steps so as not to be dragged or loose my balance, but I stayed on my feet. Dust swirled up around me. As the car continued to move past me I grabbed the back passenger door handle with my right hand. I pulled as hard as I could on the handle while pressing the release button, and the door flew open wide. I reached inside the car grabbed Mary by the front of her shirt and pulled both her and her sales case out of the back seat and away from the car. Fortunately she was somewhat prepared for this outcome and landed on her feet with sales case still in hand. With my hands on her shoulders, I turned her around to face the highway we had just come from and yelled, “Run!” I gave her a little push to make sure she got my point, but she needed no urging. We both ran for our lives while hanging onto our sales cases all the way back to the main road. With fear motivating me, I felt no fatigue or much of any physical discomfort the whole way. I turned once to see if the guys were coming after us, but they were not. All of them got out of their vehicles, but they didn’t come after us on foot. They just watched us run. My fear was that they would come after us in their vehicles.

Back on the main road, I could tell Mary was as scared as I was. I had never seen her usually relaxed gaze transformed into this panic stricken wide eyed glare before. Perhaps I looked much the same. We still feared that they would come after us. We were desperate to get another ride while we continued running back towards the gas station. We waved frantically to passing cars. We must have looked like two crazy women to the cars that sped by. No one stopped.

A state trooper car passed and he saw us. He made a U-turn and pulled over in front of us. He waved for us to get in the back and we did. “Boy are we ever glad to see you!” I said. “You won’t believe what just happened to us!”

He cut into what I was saying. “Did you know that I could arrest you girls for hitchhiking? I could take you in. Do you know how dangerous hitchhiking is?” he lectured.

We laughed at that and told him what had just happened to us. He shook his head. “You were lucky. I’d go back there and look for them, but odds are they’ve left. Looks like you’ve learned a lesson today, so I’ll take you into town.” He continued lecturing us by telling us about the rapist- stabber on the loose in Athens, all the while keeping an eye on the digital radar detector readout from the oncoming cars. I asked how fast folks needed to be going to get pulled over. He answered, “Well now, look at these guys they’re goin’ 60 to 70 miles per hour or so. When I’m on my way somewhere it’s going to take the real speeder to get my attention, like 80 or more...whoa, here we go! Hang on!”

I saw the readout: 85 miles per hour. The trooper slammed on the brakes, and made a sharp left turn at 40-50 miles per hour. The rear end of the car spun around behind us, the tires shrieking as they left black marks on the pavement. He gunned the engine and headed down the deep grassy drainage ditch that was in between the opposite lanes of traffic. The car bottomed out as we headed up the other side of the gully. We had already turned to the direction of the road before we left the grass. Our spinning wheels jerked onto the pavement and the car shimmied as we accelerated to over 100 miles per hour in just seconds. The speeder had not slowed and it took a bit of pursuit to catch up to him, but he did pull over when we came right up behind him with all of the car’s lights flashing. The trooper leapt out of the car and wrote the ticket.

End of Homlessness

The trooper managed to drive us all the way back to town without further delay. Finally we were back in town. Mary and I planned to meet back at 9:00 PM in the parking lot of the MacDonald’s on Prince Avenue. I set off on foot to my territory. In neighborhoods adjacent to Milledge Road I made about eight demos by eight o’clock, and started back on the hour walk to MacDonald’s. I met Mary there. She had called Beverly, who found a potential place for us to stay, with a friend of the family, Mrs. Epps. Mary had already seen the room, and seemed set on it. It was just on Meigs Street a couple of blocks west of Milledge and we were expected at 10:00 PM so that I could see the room. It was a nice old neighborhood that we had seen houses in before. I was surprised when Mary pointed it out to me, because the house was enormous. The Greek Revival house had three floors and white columns out front. We rang the bell on the side door, they never used the front, and the maid answered. She let us in and took us to see Mrs. Epps. The house had that southern close musty, smell of mildew, but otherwise smelled okay. Mr. and Mrs. Epps were in a small television room immediately left of the door. Apparently, Mr. Epps was not ambulatory and lived his days in that room. Mrs. Epps rose from her lazyboy chair to look us over. She was a nondescript thin elderly lady. She took us up to see the room herself. It was available starting Thursday night. The room was on the second floor in the right front corner of the house. The dimensions looked to be 18 feet by 18 feet and a cool breeze came through the curtained windows on the front and side walls of the house (a good sign). The floors were wide plank hard wood and there was a hooked rug with a rose design on it. There were two single beds and one wooden chair painted white. The walls were painted very light blue and the bed quilts and curtains were cotton with a small blue flowered pattern. It was clean and cozy looking. We would have to share a bathroom with another tenant, a man. There was no shower and the old white bathtub was huge and its feet were shaped like clawed animal paws.

The room was $20 a week, and Mary and I could split that amount. We also would have use of the house kitchen which seemed to take up one quarter of the downstairs, it was so big. The kitchen was not as clean as the room, though, and smelled like moldy bread. We took it, and were to move in the following morning. On Wednesday night, the room was not available; but Mrs. Epps said that she had a sun room with two beds in it that we could stay in until Thursday. We would stay at Beverly’s that night and she would drive us and our things there first thing Wednesday. What a relief to have a place to stay.

First Big Sale

I gave 17 demos on Wednesday, after our move, but did not sell any books. I was concerned because I had not sold anything at all yet, and I was supposed to call Robbie on Thursday to check in.

That night we stayed in the sun room behind Mrs. Epps’ bedroom. I would never have guessed that it was on the third floor. The maid took us up the stairs to Mrs. Epps bedroom which covered about half of the size of the house. I guess it had been a master bedroom. Up against the rear wall was a king size canopy bed with Mrs. Epps in it. As that huge bed was lost in the room, was Mrs. Epps lost in that bed. She looked like a tiny dot with covers drawn up around her. She motioned to a door to the right of the bed which led out to the sun room. Mary and I slept on twin beds surrounded by screen windows. Being on the third floor, the room gave the impression that one was in a tree house. The morning sunshine woke us and we were covered with dew. We tiptoed out, so as not to wake Mrs. Epps.

Thursday morning Mary and I went to the Prince Baptist Church’s prayer breakfast that Jessica and Carolyn had invited us to. It was held in the basement of an industrial looking building down the street from Prince Baptist Church. Even though we were on time, 7:30 AM, forty or so people were already there. We later learned that the praying part starts shortly after 7:30, so people come earlier than that for the food. Breakfast was served cafeteria style. Steaming stainless steel trays were still full of eggs, bacon, sausage, home fries, pancakes, waffles and grits. I piled my plate high, skipping the grits. During the summer I tried grits with every available spice, dressing or syrup, and never did find them palatable. We ate quickly, so as to be finished before the prayer.

An elder of the church stood, welcomed the crowd and asked for a moment of silent prayer. I bowed my head, prayed to who knows who that I would sell a book, and looked through the top of my eyeglasses for the signal to raise our heads again. Next came the testimonial part of the meeting. Folks stood one by one and revealed spiritual moments they had. This public participatory form of practicing religion was new to me. Most I had ever seen before was a congregation singing hymns. My first thought was, gee, I hope they don’t call on me. What would I say besides, “Thanks for the meal?”

One young woman who seemed to be a contemporary of Jessica and Carolyn stood to welcome a new member of the congregation. He was the star quarterback of the Georgia Bulldogs Football team. He waved and I noticed that he was the only black person in the room. It struck me as odd that the congregation was all white save for this one young man.

Well, they didn’t call on me or Mary for that matter but the service lasted until 8:30 and we were late for the book field. Actually that was one reason that I didn’t go back to the breakfast prayer meetings much. Also, I felt guilty eating their food, and not really praying. What if some day they did call on me? I certainly had nothing spiritual to offer.

I again set out walking to my territory. Exploration was impossible on foot, so I picked up exactly where I left off the previous day. My first house was a ranch that was white with brown trim. I noticed that it had a pretty backyard porch. I knocked on the door and the woman of the house let me in. She led me directly to the backyard porch and invited me to sit on a chaise. I did and gave the demo for the Bible Dictionary perfectly.

Before I could close begin my closing she asked, “Well what else do you have in that case?” I hesitated. This had never happened before. I figured that she was not interested in the Bible Dictionary and proceeded to give the demo for the Family Bible Library. She again asked what else I had, and I proceeded to show her the health book and then educational books. As soon as I finished, she cut me off and said, “I’m sorry. I can’t use the health book.” she paused. “But I will take the others.”

“Which others?” I inquired.

“Well, all of them!”

I was shocked, to say the least. “Okay, lets see now, that’s one Bible Dictionary, one Family Bible Library set, and one set of educational books.” I tried to sound as if it was a routine order, but I was flabbergasted as I wrote up the order slip and tried to figure the total. I didn’t even need the closings. I wondered if she really wanted all of these books, or secretly knew that I was flat broke and desperate to make a sale. The total was over $200 and she gave me half in cash as a deposit. I was flush! I thanked her profusely and left as soon as possible, lest she change her mind. I felt that this sale was the ultimate success.

I hastily found a pay phone to check in with Robbie. He answered on the second ring. “Hi Sue! How’s it going?”

“It was real slow until just recently. I just made a huge sale. My first!” I said and told him the amount.

“Yeah, but what did you get as a deposit?”

“I got half, and in cash!”

“That’s really good Sue, congratulations. But remember its only Thursday and there are two more selling days to the week. Now is not the time to rest on your laurels. If you’re hot, you should capitalize on that. I’ve spoken to Chip and he has agreed to come by and train you tomorrow in your territory. He’s calling in later; just give me the address where he can meet you. He’ll be by at 7:30 in the morning or so. Keep up the good work and don’t forget to fill out the weekly sales report and remit your money on Sunday. Take care, Sue!”

“Okay, Robbie. Bye!” Boy, it was great to call him with good news instead of the dismal news I would have had just an hour ago. I couldn’t wait to try to sell again after my success. I headed back to the houses.