Birth of a Salesman

Writing for Publication prompt: "A door-to-door salesman meets an unusual client."


Contrary to popular belief, the door-to-door-sales industry is not dead in today’s world. In fact, some even argue that the business is more alive than ever; it’s just a matter of knowing where to look. After years of facing rejection after rejection, one door slammed in their face after another, door-to-door salesmen have gotten better at their craft. They’ve learned how to mask their trade. That man from the local phone company “checking your lines” each month? Salesman. Jehovah’s witness? Salesman. The devil is in the details.

Herbert Ferlito came out of “the academy” with a mission to bring respectability back to the door-to-door-sales business. This line of work had been in his family for three generations, dating all the way back to his great-grandfather Horace Ferlito (who peddled phone books before society deemed they should be free). Herbert felt it would be a great disservice to his family’s storied heritage if he were to end the door-to-door tradition, regardless of how poorly the line of work had been looked upon in recent times.

He had done a good job of it recently. Today’s door-to-door bosses have low sales standards and nearly every sale is treated as icing on the cake; generally speaking, they feel that the salesmen are there to plant the seed in the minds of the prospective consumers. The technological age has empowered customers to do their own shopping rather than having people tell them what they should buy. Today’s consumers want to feel as though it was their idea to purchase the product.

Herbert had a tough time accomplishing this goal because of his product: patio furniture. With such a big investment, it was hard to get many consumers to even listen to his approach, let alone commit to a purchase. Herbert was dedicated, though, and had experienced tremendous (albeit sporadic) success in his nine weeks on the job. He had sold three complete sets and accented close to two dozen other units with at least one item.

Each home he visited presented him with a unique and new challenge. No two homeowners were the same and no two families liked to lounge on their patios in exactly the same way. Herbert liked to see how quickly he could determine each family’s ideal patio usage and use that information to his advantage.

Every Sunday night, Herbert would get the town he would be traveling to for the upcoming week. The report would have the streets on which he’d travel each day, with time enough allotted for precisely one-third of the houses. If he needed more time on a street (if more than one-third of the residents invited him in, for instance) he noted it in his travel log. Though his bosses liked him to spread the company’s message to as many homes as he could, they realized that getting inside a house was half the battle and were consequently approving of his need for more time.

With today being Thursday, Herbert was nearing the end of this week’s visits. It had been a rather slow week (he sold only two chairs) but Herbert didn’t mind. He loved his job in both feast and famine, which he felt meant that he was in the right line of work. As the day winded down, he noted that he had only three houses remaining before he could call it a day (regardless of his dedication and passion for his job, he enjoyed relaxation as much as anyone else).

The first two families he visited did not let him inside, though they did so politely. With only one final house to visit before heading back to the Holiday Inn he was checked into, he rang the doorbell and waited for a response.

An elderly man who Herbert recognized but could not place opened the door. “Hello sir,” the elderly man said. “What can I do for you?”

“Good afternoon, sir. My name is Herbert Ferlito and I am employed by Pat’s Patio Furniture Emporium and Warehouse. Might you have a minute to discuss the wonderful opportunities and family memories a Pat’s Patio Furniture set could provide?”

“Yes my son,” the older man said. “You may enter.”

Herbert walked into the man’s home and was led to his couch. As the man went into his kitchen to prepare a pitcher of wine, Herbert looked around the man’s room. Featured prominently on the western wall was a four foot by six foot oil painting of Christ crucified on the cross. Slightly taken aback (yet intrigued by the man’s devotion), Herbert continued his visual perusal of the man’s décor. The sparsely furnished room was decorated only with the oil painting and an accompanying staff leaning in one of the room’s corners.

The older man returned with a pitcher and a plate of crackers. Herbert was surprised as the man’s formal greeting and snack choice, but he had seen far more unusual things in his time as a salesman.

“Now sir,” Herbert said. “What are you looking…”

“Please,” the man said. “Call me Benedict.”

“Alright. So, Benedict, what are you looking for in a patio set?”

“Ideally,” Benedict responded, “I’d like something that allows me to appreciate God’s glorious sunshine each and every day. There is truly nothing more special to me than admiring and taking in the glory that is all around us each day.”

The man’s facial features were becoming more and more recognizable to Herbert with each passing moment. Herbert was experiencing more powerful déjà vu than he had ever before in his life. Not one to believe in superstitious phenomenon like déjà vu, Herbert couldn’t shake the sense that he was missing something about who this man was.

“That can definitely be arranged,” Herbert said. “Many of our comfortable – and affordable – sets come without a canopy or table umbrella. If you ever change your mind, though, you should know that those pieces are also very affordable and easily installed.”

“Excellent,” Benedict said. “Now I must tell you, I don’t spend all my time here. This is actually my niece’s house. I spend most of my time at my residence overseas.”

“Oh really?” Herbert asked. “Where might that be?”

“Oh.” Benedict paused. “Vatican City.”

A Monster Martyr

(This was another writing prompt for Writing for Publication.)

I have a hard time being mean. Even in video games when you’re given the choice to be good or evil, I always inevitably opt for the “good” path. I’m not sure why, exactly, but I just don’t possess the necessary traits (or whatever) that would require me to be evil. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I really want to be liked by everyone I meet, and if you’re evil, the people who like you are few and far between (not to mention probably not the kind of crowd you’d want to be seen with!).

With that in mind, I think that it’d be impossible for me to be an “evil” monster. This prompt is (inevitably so) making me think of Monsters, Inc. and thinking about how monsters have a bad rep in today’s society. Too often they are characterized as a child’s worst enemy, when in fact there is a very distinct possibility that not all monsters are mean or, more likely, there is a spectrum / cross-sampling within the monster community that we find in the human race as well.

If I was going to design myself as a monster, then, I’d have to have a pleasant demeanor and appearance. I think that based on the bad rep I mentioned, if you’re a scary-looking monster, regardless of how kind or sweet you may be, you’re never going to get the light of day to show your softer side. I don’t think I’d want to be overly adorable because I feel that it would be hard to be taken seriously if you’re an adorable monster. I’d like to think that I could be a monster ambassador and help convince the world that not all monsters should be feared. It wouldn’t be easy to do that if the first reaction you get is “Awww…”

I think the first trait associated with being too cute is size. If you’re a tiny monster, you won’t appear to have any credibility or strength. Conversely, if you’re gigantic, you’re not going to be able to win over those intimidated by your overpowering appearance. There’s a “sweet spot” common ground, I feel, which would be somewhere in the three to five foot range. I think that’s big enough to show that you mean business yet small enough to remain likeable and not be instantly intimidating.

The ability to speak English is essential. I think it’s kind of assumed that if I’m going to be a monster ambassador, I’ll need to be able to communicate sophistically and not have to resort to drawing or miming.

I guess the bottom line is that while I’m a monster, I’m going to be as close to human as I can be. I think the big difference would be that my exterior would be vastly different – I’m assuming that I’d have bold-colored fur (right now, I’m thinking a red and orange mix) and other various monster-like attributes (claws, fangs, perhaps horns, who knows?). The only thing that I’d need to look out for is that I don’t want to be caught in a middle ground where I’m ostracized from both the monster and human communities. I can see that being a problem; regardless of how hard I try to improve monster-human relations, I’m not enough monster nor human to really be accepted by either.

I’d be willing to be a monster martyr, though, and be ostracized from both if I guaranteed future generations of monster children would play alongside human children. That would be nice.