Skip to main content

A peek at a salesman's life

Sorry. You have to excuse me for speaking too much, but I love to talk and talking is my profession, sort of a way. I am a salesman and my success or failure is directly proportional to how much I talk. Garbage, gibberish, whatever adjective you want to put it to it will do. But I must not allow you to think. For thinking people do not need goods for which salesmen are appointed.
So where do I start? Doesn’t matter as long as I start anywhere. Heck, I have started anyway, you have come this far reading 10 sentences, 100 words 418 characters and still counting. Thank you for your attention, but no thank you, cause that’s my job to make myself important and always knowing more than what you thought you would not need but now you realize you need it badly as I need you to realize it how badly you need it.
So here we are. You accepting my superiority and humbly accepting your inferiority and still you don’t hate me.
Are you curious to read more? I bet you do. So let’s continue. As I said I am a salesman and my primary job is to sell stuff. Now, I don’t have anything tangible to sell you right now but I am glad to have your attention as someday I would come knocking at your door with all the smart stuff that I have to sell. I am glad you cannot throw me rightaway as we have already communicated so far. But I am a good salesman and by the end of this little illuminating discourse, I will manage to sell you something.
A little background may be of help to you. I was appointed a salesman a few years ago, nine to be precise and I was given a bag and a toiletry kit and asked to return to the office with money but not the goods. I was not told who to sell it and how do I sell it. My bosses were not bothered if I would slit the throat of my fellow passenger, rob him and dump all the goods at his feet. It was accepted as a good sales practice. As long as I came empty-handed and hand them over the cash for the day I was a good salesman and my job remains. I was supposed to be confirmed after three months and I had to be a good salesman at any cost.
You know what I did. I told my father to invest on me and soon I was filling my room with all kinds of shampoos and soaps and washing powders and borrowing money from my father. It was the question of my job and my father never really spend on me enough than what he did to my elder brother. He made him an engineer out of his money. To me, he did nothing. I became a salesman on my own. No son-of a bitch, not even my father, can take credit for that. But of course he did support me in my initial months.
I was a star salesperson soon and I was given a contract for three years. They had accepted me and I could finally wear that tie knowing well that for the rest of my life I am tied firmly to this profession. I was proud of my achievement and thankful to my dad for supporting me.
The real test came when he stopped supporting me. I was confirmed and my agreement was with him to support me till I get my contract. He stopped ‘buying’ my goods and I had to go out and face the world. Rather, I had to go out and face the watchmen of the buildings who won’t let a salesman enter the posh flats. But then persistence and a few Gandhis help. I was soon entering the high society and selling them my detergents or the body shampoos. Luckily my company was a well-known one, at least on the advertisement front and there were enough advertisements all around for people to be familiar with our products. My products were priced 20% less than what they would get in a supermart and I was soon the favourite of the bored middle-aged Indian wives.
I was friends with most of them in many societies and I was good friend with many of them. I did become special friends to about four-five of them and got intimate with two of them but that is another story. But that should not surprise you. It is part of a salesman's life and by now you know I have the gift of the gab and you don't know but I must tell you ... I am handsome too.
I had no qualms in lying to my customers about their beauty and I was surprised to find how dull women can be on this subject. Even when they know you are lying through your teeth, they will believe you if you compliment on their beauty.
You may benefit from my experience on this. Just use: ‘charming personality’ to a revoltingly ugly woman and ‘charming presence’ to a woman who could be beautiful at one point but now is brutally beaten by time. You inevitably will manage to sell two packets of detergent powder and at least one shampoo. So that’s a little trade secret that I shared with you. I don’t mind if you do good in your life using these tips and you don’t need to recognize me as your guru but please don’t come selling anything at my locality. I am the alpha dog of my neighborhood. You will be fucked.
Sorry, I digressed. By the way, what was I discussing? Doesn’t matter. I have lot of things to discuss with you about my life. Most interesting of all is how is that I have so many things to discuss with you.
You see that comes with experience. The more you are experienced, the more you realize that there is no point running around. Every man has a destiny to follow and even if you don’t want to, that destiny will end up following you. For example, it is my destiny to write this garbage and it is your destiny to read me. I don't know how you came to my blog but the fact that you are reading it is because it was your destiny. So stop fighting with your bad luck and accept me. Read on. Besides, it's my job too. I specialize in entering garbage in your head and it is not my fault that you are still reading it.You have just succumbed to my skills. Thank me, love me for being so skillful.
I can go on and on and on about me and you can read on and on and on because I am a good salesman-writer. But I must stop now because it’s time for me to go home.
Thank you for being my customer. In case you are wondering what I managed to sell you, continue to wonder.
No, don’t wonder. It is the job of all good salesman to tell you after selling the stuff how many other things they need to buy as ancillaries and how useless the stuff they just bought is without those add-ons.
So here you go: I sold you my boredom of sitting in a fuckin office whole day long with nothing but just a computer where even soft-porn sites are banned. Can you imagine a salesman’s life without porn sites? How do we live then? Why should we live anyway?
If you are wondering what are the ancillaries I plan to sell you ... don’t fret. It’s very simple. I shall sell you online a book by the famous author whose name I am presently forgetting. It is called, “Ye fuckfaces, stop peeking at others’ and get a life …


Stoned Scribe said…
Hahahahahah.. Ghetu, this is a gem of a piece.. May your tribe multiply and prosper
ghetufool said…
so you finished reading it eh? time for that book ... you are my first customer then.
Vincent said…
You have convinced me. I don’t know how to thank you enough.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me....
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now, I see.

It’s a paltry thing, I know, but it’s all I can think of. I have sent you in the post a cheque, with the amount blank. Just fill it in to a suitable value. I’m sorry it could not have been more. I would have offered you my wife too, but she was somehow unwilling, I can’t imagine why.

God bless you and this important work you are doing in the world!
Vincent said…
PS Ghetu, I just had a call from your agent. Why does he ring me and not you? Anyhow he asked me to pass on this message. He said "Include it!"

What did he mean?
ghetufool said…
I will reply to two Vincent. One that is a good customer (a bumbling idiot in our salespeople lingo) and another who is a shrewd editor who is trying to be the salesman and making me a good customer.

Vincent 1: lol! you have surrendered so unassumingly to me that i am feeling ashamed now and willing to give you a 100% discount of my charm. you are free to kick me on my butt for selling you garbage all these years.

Vincent 2: the agent (if she exists somewhere in an ether state) is right in calling you. she ONLY knows you in this whole wide world. it will be included if she thinks so. but i seriously don't think it is a good decision. we can exchange mails perhaps?
Shuv said…
bujhlam na

Popular posts from this blog

Let it rain hard

About a dozen years back, I started writing blog posts out of sheer boredom in office. The work was repetitive and the bosses were menacing. Not the fault of bosses as much as the systems put in place. It was a real-time world and you perish in seconds or become a hero. No, I was not a stock market trader, but close. I was perhaps in deep agony. I had left my family members, my root, my friends and my culture. Those years were the most important in my life, the early twenties. I was free for the first time. Free to do whatever I wanted to do. It was a lot of pent-up sexual energy really looking for an avenue to be released. I found my moksha in creativity, especially as my office colleagues started appreciating my writing, albeit with no hint of grammar in it. Slowly strangers came to my blog and I visited theirs and we became friends. And then I started connecting with people far away from my place, across oceans. With one I became friends for life – Ian Vincent Mulder. But that’s ano…

On Mithi

I became a father on 18 November, 2014. At that moment when fatherhood embraced me, perhaps I should have been elated, jumping up and down and doing all sort of activities that new fathers do, at least, that's what most sane people do. But nothing of that sort happened to me. When I heard my baby's voice, first like an angry cat and then a mild wail wafting across the operation theatre to the waiting area where we all were pacing up and down, the first thought that hit me was how was my wife? It was a C-section and she was partially unconscious. I should not have read Internet too much, for I was reading all sorts of horror stories, of mothers not waking up or recovering etc. I was petrified as I was not hearing my wife's voice. The doctors and sisters inside the operation theater must have been very busy with their other procedures. In fact, after bringing out the baby from the womb, they were busy closing the cut, I later got to know.
The realisation of becoming a fathe…

The Sculptor's Tale

(Note to readers ... mainly Ian, who is the only one who reads this blog >> i just finished writing this in office. didn't even re-read it after writing, forget editing. Expect a leaner/fatter and better written version, if my mood permits.)
Keep your hands busy, said my father every time I used to lean against the tree to catch my breath. Keep your hands busy you idiot, keep your hands busy, don’t let your head decide for you. Keep your hands busy, he would coax me to get working. And so I would again start chiselling the chunk of rock, along the lines my father, a master sculptor, had already outlined. But I would still dream with eyes wide open. When the hammer used to fall so gently yet firm on the chisel, I used to dream of the cities and the grand mansions. I was not good in sculpting, yet I wanted to be the greatest sculptor in this world. I wanted to be honoured by my king. I wanted to be the subject for which kings wage wars against each other. I was a dreamer, I …