SELLING 24/7 (The Conclusion)

One of the more aggravating realities of sales, is that verbal agreements are useless.  Essentially, a customer's words are counterfeit currency in our profession, without a signed contract they are worthless.  However, when salespeople are pitching an idea outside of work, there is no dotted-line at the end of the call, only action.  Still, the same concept applies.  Our trip to Keystone is the perfect example.  Despite the long drive, investment in rental equipment, or the hour we spent creeping out little kids practicing snow plow beside them, none of it would matter if Scarlet and Custer didn't get on the ski lift.  I checked the time; it was quarter after seven.  At 9 o'clock our skis would turn back into tennis shoes.  It was time to bibbidi bobbidi boo.

"You guys ready to roll?" I asked.  Scarlet looked juiced; Custer looked like he was about to go skydiving without a parachute. 

"Man, I've got some serious butterflies in my stomach right now.  Can we just chill five more minutes?"

Custer's plea for a stay of execution was the same as a real world client asking for the weekend to think it over.  In such circumstances, there is only one way for a sales person to react - you bring the hammer down.

"Look, bro, I know you're scared but . . ."

"I'm not scared!  I just . . ."

"You are scared, and that's understandable, but you're thinking about it way too much!  I'm not gonna sit here and bullshit you, Custer.  You will fall, probably more than once, but it's snow, not concrete.  Just keep in mind that these are beginner slopes meant for people like you.  Everyone has to start somewhere.  We both know that nothing's gonna change in the next five minutes (except his mind), so are you in, or are you out?"

"You're such a salesman sometimes, it makes me sick."

"I love you, too.  Now let's do this!" 

Custer agreed, and the sale to go night skiing was officially in the books.  Roll action!

The three of us cross skied our way over to the lifts.  At Scarlet's request, I went to the front of the line to verify, one last time, that first timer's were allowed on the green slopes at night.

"Hey, bro, sorry to bother you, but I got a couple beginners with me that wanted to make sure it was safe for them to ski the greens here at night.  It should be cool, right?"

"Uh, seriously, dude?"  It was Spicoli from "Fast Times at Ridgmont High".

"Yeah, man.  What do you think?  I already taught them how to snow plow."

"Uh, have they gone to ski school, dude?"

"Yeah, kinda," I said impatiently.

"Uh, yeah, dude.  You guys should be cool."  Spicoli's dazed endorsement rested on a magic brownie giggle.  I was better off asking a snow man's opinion.  Even so, he gave me the answer I wanted to hear.

"Well, what'd he say?" asked Scarlet. 

"He said, we'd be fine.  Relax, baby, you're gonna do great.  Both of you are."

"I certainly hope so."

Moments later, the ski lift scooped Scarlet and me off our gelatin legs, and propelled us unfastened into the darkness.

Less than forty five seconds into the climb, Scarlet began to unravel.  "I can't believe these things don't have seat belts.  This is insane.  They're just begging for a lawsuit.  And where the hell are the goddamn lights?  I thought there were supposed to be lights!  Oh my god, Bill, oh my god, I think we're going to hit that tree!"  In ten years with Scarlet, I had never seen her genuinely afraid.  She's only five-four in stilettos, but Scarlet has always acted as if she were eight feet tall and weighed four hundred pounds.  Seeing her confidence implode was definitely a first.  I did my best to sell back her composure.

"Honey, take a deep breath.  We're totally safe.  Just hold onto me until we get to the top.  You're gonna do fine.  You're Peekaboo Street, remembe . . ."

"Fuck Peekaboo!  I'm Scarlet Manlo and I'm scared to shit!  I feel like we're dangling from dental floss up here!"  She turned around to find Custer.  "Where is he, I don't see him behind us.  I'm going to cut his balls off if he chickened out!"

"That's sweet, baby.  I'm sure he'd be glad to know that.  I know you're a little freaked out, but we're almost there.  I'll hold your hand the whole way. . ." 

As we made our approach, Scarlet grabbed my hand like she was about to deliver triplets.  As you might expect, by holding hands, we both lost our balance coming off the ski lift and fell face first into the snow.  A couple of Spicoli's buddies helped us up, and we were temporarily safe again.  Before Scarlet could dig her claws into me, Custer came crashing into the picture.  He came off the lift like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz.  Staying with that theme, you could say that Scarlet was the Cowardly Lion who lost her courage, and I, of course, was the Scarecrow missing a brain.  After we navigated ourselves out of harm's way, the three of us laughed like drunken hyenas for a good five minutes.  It wasn't pretty, but we had made it to the top.  The trip back down was an adventure in itself (Scarlet and Custer walked half way down the mountain before a Red Cross rescue worker ended their humiliation), but we all made it in one piece. 

On the car ride home Scarlet and Custer made a vow to each other that I would never sell them on anything again. 

Come on, who are they kidding?

Bill Manlo

QOW:  All salespeople have sales they regret making, what's yours?