Something spectacular?

So this sleazy salesman came knocking on my door a few days ago. Well, he wasn't really sleazy as such, just the regular fast-talking, smooth, "this offer is only good today" kind of security system salesman that sometimes come by to test my patience and courtesy. Now, as you might know, I'm a salesman myself (of the good, honest, not-trying-to-talk-yer-head-off kind) and as such I'm not easily impressed by these guys that have no interest in their product, but are simply trying to make as much money as they can. Not that there's anything wrong with that.



However, this time, the salesman of dubious intents had brought along something that caught my eye: a dolled up, pretty blonde girl. "Ok", I thought to myself, "so they'll be using the old two-salespersons-one-customer trick. Better brace myself." However, the guy started his monologue - that's what it was, since I coulnd't get a single word in for the good three or four minutes he talked - and as he babbled on, I kept looking at the pretty blonde waiting for her to step into the ring. Nothing happened. I waited, growing increasingly intrigued by what her role in all of this was. She hadn't said as much as a word the enire time since they rang my doorbell, and I speculated wildly as to what her purpose was: Was she his secretary? His boss? A trainee? Wife? Bodyguard? Some kind of inspector that supervised the guy as he sold these security systems? By the end of his sales pitch I refused - as I always do - to sign anything at the door, but would be happy to read any written information material he might have brought along. Of course, he hadn't brought any.

As they left, I couldn't help but think what might have happened IF I'd actually signed up. I mean, the blonde MUST have been there for a reason, right? Did I miss out on something? Was she part of the deal (the salesman never said so, but still)?

The whole thing reminded me of the ending of "The Twisted World of Marge Simpson", when the mobsters and the Yakuza fight and Marge urges Homer to go inside, and Homer doesn't want to because one of the Yakuzas hasn't done anything yet (a short guy in a white suit) and "when he does, I'm sure it's going to be spectacular!"

Heck, if I had a blonde like that with me at work, no customer would be safe: they would all leave with ridiculously expensive gear they didn't need in the first place. Together, we would rule the music-gear-selling world, and there would be fat bonuses every month.


Alas, such is not the way of the lone salesman.