The Salesman

"Good morning, sir or madam, my name is Joe Banks, wouldn’t you like to buy a product that’ll change the way you go to the bathroom?" he said to himself, practicing his introduction. Joe had been working door-to-door sales for only three weeks, but every day brought more and more discouragement. His wife, Maureen, had been his best cheerleader to this point, but today she put her foot down and told him that he needed to make a sale soon or he would need to take that job at her dad’s business.

“You’ll start in the mailroom, Joe, and work your way up,” his father-in-law said. Joe kindly declined the opportunity in lieu of the sales job. There was more potential for wealth, if only he could sell, and people always told him that he had good people skills. He was charismatic. He also had learned to understand the sound of a slamming door, the taste of wood, metal, and plastic.

“These things sell themselves,” said Randy Moore, the top seller in the company. He was in charge of orientation for the new guys. Joe had come in with six other sellers: Wayne, Harvey, Cookie, Max, Dave, and Leanne. Each of them made a sale in their first week, they drunk their first commission check at Lowery’s Bar and Grill last Friday night, but Joe couldn’t join them, instead he went home and ate a TV dinner with his wife. He was already starting to feel desperate.

It was Monday, late September, the weather was cool, and fall was setting in. Joe parked his car at the end of the block and began playing his strategy in his head over and over again. He was in a nice upper middle-class community, people with some disposable income, stay at home moms, folks that might be won over with the right type of bait. He buttoned his suit jacket grabbed the oversized gym bag full of product and made his way toward the first door. It was ten o’clock, his goal was to canvas the entire neighborhood of three hundred homes, talk to people at home, leave a brochure and his card for others, and make a sale. “Pop his cherry,” as Max said after making his first sale.

Joe walked to the first house with confidence, he put on his million-dollar smile, the one that got him hired in the first place, and he rang the bell. He stood there on the small porch, smiling, waiting for an answer. He heard movement, so he lingered, and finally an older man, probably in his seventies opened the door.

“Hello sir, my name is Joe…” the door slammed in his face. Joe’s smile disappeared; it was a bad start to what he had hoped would be a good day.

The first hour of houses was full of no thank you's, slamming doors, and no answers. He left a brochure and his card at every home he visited. Joe was discouraged and tired of the entire process, but he pressed on.

At 11:05 he came to a house with a white picket fence around the outside. He opened the gate and walked along the path leading to the front door. He rang the bell and a dog started barking immediately on the inside. A woman’s voice commanded the dog to quiet down, but the dog continued barking. The woman opened the door, she was young looking, probably early twenties, she was pretty, had a kind face and Joe threw out the charm.

“Hello, miss, my name is Joe Banks,” he said with a smile as broad as the Mississippi.

“Hi Joe, I’m Sue. How can I help you today?”

“You're asking how you can help me and I'm here to help you. What a wonderful person you are. Wouldn’t you like to buy a product that could change your life?”

“Are you selling drugs?”

“I didn’t know people sold drugs door to door.”

“I didn't know people sold anything door to door anymore," Sue quipped. "What else could you be selling?”

“Well…”

“Are you a Jehovah’s Witness? We get so many of them traipsing through this neighborhood, I’m so damn sick of them. Next time I might just tell them that I’ve already been converted, congratulations, you won; now leave me alone!” Joe cracked a smile and shook his head.

“I’m not a Jehovah’s Witness, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Sue.”

“Okay Sue, let me tell you what I’m selling. Toilet seats.”

“Toilet seats?”

“Well, not just any kind of toilet seat, musical toilet seats, they play music whenever you sit down. It makes the experience more relaxing…more entertaining.”

“Why do I want to be entertained in the bathroom?”

“Why don’t you want to be entertained in the bathroom? We love to be entertained everywhere else, why not the bathroom?” This was the longest anyone had let Joe talk about the musical toilet seat. He didn’t know how to close the deal or how to convince her to buy one, but he hoped that by continuing to pose questions she’d get confused and decide to buy one. He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer.

“What if I don’t like it?”

“Impossible, you’ll love it. If you don’t like it in the first ten days, you get your money back, full refund.”

“How much?”

“$150.00.”

“Whoa, one hundred fifty?”

“There are various kinds of seats, there’s an easy listening seat, metal, rap, rock, classical, patriotic, pop, dance, world, and so much more.” Joe grimaced knowing that he sounded like a commercial.

“You have a dance musical toilet seat, really? I’ll take two. One dance and one rock, my husband likes rock.” Joe smiled as he handed Sue two brand new toilet seats wrapped in plastic, one rock, the other dance. He wanted to hug her, he wanted to kiss her, but when the transaction was completed, he just shook her hand.

“Oh, and if you have any problems with your purchase here is my card, I’ll be in the office next week, just give me a call and I’ll fix whatever the problem is.”

Invigorated with confidence, he didn’t care that he sold zero units during the next ninety minutes. Around 12:45 Joe came to a house that had no cars in the driveway. He figured no one was home and was ready to leave a brochure when a boy opened the door. He looked like he had just woken up, he was in his late teens, seventeen, eighteen or nineteen. Joe composed himself and decided to say his spiel.

“Hello sir, my name is Joe Banks.”

“What’s up, dude?” he asked, giving Joe a hard shoulder punch.

“How would you like to buy a product that could change your life?” Joe asked while rubbing his shoulder.

“What is it, a penis enlarger?” he started laughing and Joe, not knowing what else to do, joined in on the laughing. “That sure would change my life, you know what I’m saying?”

“I’m sure it would, but I’m not selling those…not this week. No, I’m selling toilet seats.”

“Toilet seats? How would a shit sitter change my life? I don’t know, maybe you should sell those penis enlargers this week.” Joe could see he was losing him, so he tried a different tactic.

“What’s your name sir?”

“Kevin.”

“And how old are you, Kevin?”

“A lady never tells,” the boy laughed. “Eighteen.”

“Eighteen, huh, and you’re not in school.”

“I go to college. I don’t have class today.”

“Do you live at home or on campus?”

“At home.”

“Do you like music?”

“C’mon man, who don’t like music? I love grunge and metal, all that shit. I’m startin’ to lose my buzz with all these questions though.”

“What could be better than mixing in some music with a good bathroom break? After a great meal, you go to the bathroom, cop a squat, and listen to our favorite tunes with our musical toilet seat which comes in so many styles, including metal.” Kevin looked at Joe with a smile.

“That is some cool shit. How much?”

“$150.”

“I’ll take three, do you take credit?”

“Of course, I take credit.” Joe pulled out three toilet seats and handed them to Kevin who handed Joe his card. Joe thought to himself Should I be taking this kid’s money? Cha-ching! A smile crept across his face as he closed the deal by telling Kevin that he should call him next week if there were any problems with the toilet seat. He walked away so he could continue to peddle his wares.

At the end of the day, after selling five more units, Joe walked back to his car. He was content with his day, his confidence was soaring and as he was about to enter his car, he watched a car pull into a house where he had left a brochure at the beginning of the day. He felt confident, so he closed his car door and approached the house. A man got out of the white Cadillac wearing a blue general’s uniform. Joe was oblivious to what the man was wearing; all he saw was a man who owned a Cadillac and could potentially buy a toilet seat.

“Excuse me sir,” Joe called out to the general as he began making his way to his house. The general stopped and looked back at Joe who was jogging in his direction. The general readied himself for anything. “Sir, you look like the kind of man who would like more entertainment in your life. My name is Joe Brooks and I’m a salesman, may I ask your name?” The general bristled, the last thing that he wanted to deal with was a no-good salesman selling crap from a duffel bag, but the general, while stern, did not like to be rude.

“My name is General Scotland McGreggor,” he replied.

“Nice to meet you General McGreggor,” Joe said extending his hand out for a shake. The general firmly gripped Joe’s hand.

“I don’t have much time son, what are you selling?”

“Toilet seats.”

“I already have some.”

“They play music while you go, they’re great, they’re soothing, they make the experience even more pleasurable.”

“Music while I’m on the can? What will they think of next?” General McGreggor started to make his way toward his house, but Joe was persistent.

“It’s a money back guarantee, you’ve got nothing to lose. If you don’t like it within ten days, just call me, and you’ll get your money back. We have all kinds of musical seats, rock, rap, classical, patriotic, country…”

“Patriotic?”

“Yeah, for the folks who love this great land, and who loves the land more than the military?”

“How much?”

“$150.00, but for you and only you, I’ll knock twenty bucks off the price.” The general stood in his doorway contemplating the purchase, he loved listening to patriotic music, and he liked getting a deal, but was the deal good enough?

“I’ll give you $120.00 for one, if I like it, I’ll buy another dozen at full price. I have some general buddies who might like ‘em.” Joe smiled, the potential for twelve more sales convinced him to make the deal.

“You got it.” He pulled out a seat and handed it to the general who wrote Joe a check. “If you have any problems, don’t hesitate to call me next week, I’ll take care of any of your needs. You’re going to love your musical toilet seat, sir.” General McGreggor grunted goodbye and closed his door. Joe, happy with the day’s work, went home.

During the rest of the week, Joe sold another fifty units. Selling the toilet seats had become easier since that first sale, and like Randy Moore always said, “…if you’re doing it right, these things will sell themselves.” Apparently, Joe had begun to do it right. He sold more units in a week than anyone had ever sold in the company, which meant that he could finally move up to selling products that people might actually want. He got his first commission check on Friday and bought the first round at Lowery’s that evening. All night he told the crew about his weekly triumphs. He talked about Sue, his first, and the hung over or high teenager, the general, and any of the other oddballs that had been convinced into buying the musical toilet seat. At home Joe and Maureen began to discuss starting a family, something that had been put on hold because he had been unable to sell anything in the previous weeks. Joe was a new man and when he arrived at his cubicle on Monday, he sat at his desk knowing that he had only twelve more toilet seats to sell, then he could move on to his next product. He also knew that he'd be able to sell 12 seats to the general, if the general liked his seat.

The flashing red light on his phone made his heart take pause. What if nobody liked their seats and had called to return them. He would lose his commission, just like Max had last week. Joe sat down at his desk and picked up the phone to check his messages.

“You have…thirteen…messages in your mailbox,” said the robotic voice on the other end. Joe sighed; he could feel the confidence from the week before beginning to melt away as he prepared for the worst.

“First message,” said the mechanical female voice of the voice messaging service.

“Joe, this is Sue, you sold me two musical toilet seats last week. Well, I’m just calling to let you know that my husband, Gary, and I are so thrilled with the toilet seats. We’ve been telling our friends and neighbors about it and they want one, if we can order more that would be great. Please call me back so that I can order for my friends. My number is 555-1121. Thanks so much.”

Joe grinned; he was relieved that at the very least he could sell a couple more units.

“Second message.”

“Hey Joe, where you going with that gun in your hand…doo doo doo doo doo. Just kidding man, it’s Kevin. You sold me like three of those killer toilet seats last week. Man those things kick ass; my friends love ‘em. I know some dudes that want to buy some, give me a call and I’ll get you the details. 555-3456. Later man.”

Joe’s grin broadened. The next eleven messages were all positive, either thanking Joe for selling them the toilet seat or thanking him and alerting him to more possible sales. He was ecstatic by the time he got off the phone. He spent the rest of the day on the phone discussing potential sales. He called back every person who called him in order to thank them for their call or find out about the new leads. He was having a great day, until he realized, around 4:00, that he had not heard from the general.

This could be good news, he thought, but if he liked the seat, he would at least call to say that he wanted to buy twelve more, like he had promised. If he didn’t like the seat…well at least he wasn’t asking for his money back. Joe sat in his seat looking at the clock, waiting for 5:00 so he could go home to his wife. At 4:30 he heard a commotion in the front of the room, he stood up from his seat and saw the general speaking with the receptionist in the front. He looked stern, just like he had a week ago, but it didn’t mean he was angry. General McGreggor saw Joe’s head poked above the walls of the cubicle, tipped his cap at the receptionist, and made a beeline toward Joe. Joe’s stomach started to churn; he was nervous about what would happen. When the general reached the cubicle Joe smiled, hoping to disarm him.

“General Sir, to what do I owe this honor?’ Joe asked, hoping that he wouldn’t say…

“I hate the toilet seats,” his words were strained; he seemed to be in quite a bit of pain. Joe’s face contorted to a question; it was as if he didn’t understand what the general was saying.

“Oh, wow, I’m so sorry to hear that, I will certainly give you your money back,” Joe responded. “May I ask that the problem is?’ The general took off his hat, a couple of beads of sweat hung at the edge of his hairline. He looked Joe straight in the eye before he responded.

“Well, if you must know, the problem is that every time I go to the bathroom to use the toilet the seat starts to play The Star-Spangled Banner and I have to stand up and salute.”