Professional
Sales
by James Freeze
There were no
cell phones in the 1970s, but there was something
called a voice pager. I being the professional
sales person that I believed myself to be was one
of the first to obtain this specialized
communication system.
Also during
the 70s my parents who live in another state
would visit once or twice a year but instead of
staying with me or my older sister they would
rent a room at the Holiday Inn Coliseum.
I had been
fortunate to set up an appointment with Conley
Chevrolet, one of the largest automobile dealers
in the state. The appointment was to demonstrate
the Novus system, a method by which to repair
Dings and cracks in windshields. This brand-new
technology would allow automobile dealers to fix
broken windshields rather than replacing them.
While I had
begun to demonstrate this amazing new product, my
sister was headed to the airport to make sure our
parents were picked up on time and safely settled
in at the motel.
The appointed
time had begun, and I found myself standing in
front of Mr. Conley, the owner, and fifteen of
his employees. They had provided an automobile
with a cracked windshield for me to use in a
demonstration. I began telling the Novus story
while placing the tripod over the damaged area.
Things seem to be sailing right along and looking
good for me. I was answering their questions
quickly, and the performance was without glitches.
Boy, am I a real pro I thought to myself.
And then, my
voice pager went off, as the message heard loud
and clear, by all encircled around me and spoken
in a very sexy female voice. “Hi Jim, I’m
at the Holiday Inn Coliseum, room 212, come on by
as soon as you can, I can’t wait to see you
again, okay sweetie – – – bye.”
At that point,
I lost total perspective for what I was doing. I
became uncomfortable, hot around my collar, and
began to turn a nice toasty shade of red. As I
looked up to see the smirks on everyone’s
face, I proceeded to compound the situation by
saying to the group,” That was my sister.”
They all
grinned, nodding their heads up and down while
saying almost in unison, “Sure that was your
sister, we can believe that.”
After my
stumble, the demonstration began to fail as the
windshield problem was becoming worse than when I
had started. I was told shortly after to check
back with them when I felt more comfortable with
the process. Now humbled, I packed up the
demonstration equipment and thought to myself,
"ain’t big sisters great.”
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