On public display

I’m only guessing really, but I think the job of selling things has changed. I imagine that back in the days of no-cell-phones, office salespeople were tethered to their desks by curly phone cords, perhaps ensconced in their own offices — or at the very least, segregated to a section of the building that contained nothing but other salespeople. All I can tell you for sure is that, thanks to mobile telephony, they are free now. Salespeople are thoroughly spread across their office buildings, like the marbled fat of a fine piece of beef.

And beyond the office buildings, they have inserted themselves into every location that people may gather, always selling, selling, selling. Sometimes yelling about selling. Or yelling to sell, or something.

And you can tell when the call is going badly, oh yes indeed. Listen as they try to politely interrupt (as if such a thing were possible) when they feel their grip on the conversation starting to slip. Observe how they start talking faster and faster as they anticipate and attempt to forestall any number of questions, until they turn into a steamroller made of words, trying to stamp flat any objections that might prevent their target from signing on the dotted line (so to speak).

Perhaps that description sounds pathetic. I don’t mean it that way, not really. Interruptions and bulldozing are tools of the trade, the metaphorical hammer and tongs of a noble, valorous trade. Er, I mean, it’s a trade at least, you have to give me that, right? After all, someone has to extract money from people on behalf of their indistinguishable product, right?

Although I find it a little unseemly — or even gross — that they do their thing in public. It’s the same with jugglers. Take it inside, people can see you for crying out loud!

On public display

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