Wired Writer

Salesmanship begins when the customer says no

With a final wheezing cough and a few impolite splutterings, I've resurfaced from the storm surge of an overwhelming work load from the past week.

Boss, in his latent albeit correct wisdom, has hired another person to cajole prospective tenants to fill his newly opened apartment complex. This comes as great relief to myself and co-workers C. and G. The activity of this new business phase threatened to overwhelm us all: work hours tabulated with ever increasing numbers on time cards; lunches late, shortened, or all together missed; stacks of papers stretching tall and looking eerily much like Devil's Tower in the grey morning twilight of my pre-Columbian Cup O' Joe morning; tempers sultry and rising, knives being sharpened and cleaned for back stabbing, and overall grumbling and mumbling from the entire skeleton crew.

New co-worker Z. won't start for another 2 weeks, so the much anticipated softening effect on our schedules won't occur till then.

Z. arrived with all the dynamic blustery good cheer that any salesperson worth their weight in closed contracts should have. In every fiber of her being, from her thick wavy hair down to her (I imagine) scrubbed, manicured little piggies that went weee-weee-weee, she is the personfication of the art of closing a sale.

In spite of that, I like her. She does not carry the usual glossy, cheesy aura that most salespersons do. That very present sense of "You are MY WORLD until I realize you are not a sale" type of thing. It is then you are dropped more quickly than a slice of moldy bread; your enthusiasm for the possibility of the moment sucked dry by the vampire fangs of the salesperson's probing conversation.

Although the ultimate goal is never far from her mind, Z. takes care to put forth a presence of being in the moment with whomever she is sharing the air with. No one in the conversational area left unattended, uninvited, or unrecognized. Eyes fully focused and listening whenever someone else speaks. Rewarding all participants with genuine, eye-crinkling smiles and nodding with a gracious, energetic enthusiasm that is a blurred mixture of proud motherhood and patient sales technique. It is a treat in of itself to watch; it is even more so to have her harken you into the happy fray.

There is always that possiblity that she may replace myself or co-worker C. I am non-plussed by that fact. While I have complained about my job, I also realize it is a valuable, sometimes unwelcome, teaching lesson: that this job is a stepping stone and that no one is irreplaceable. I also have the luxury of a husband with a good job.

It will be interesting to see in the coming days the unfolding of the new office dynamics.

I won't be blogging as much as I want; between the work schedule and a freelance writing job, time will be parsed out first to those projects most crucial. Blogging will have to wait for now.

And hopefully, not for long.

posted by A.M.Adams @ 10/25/2005 10:15:00 AM