A Different Type of Dreaming

This is an account of a dream I had last week:

I’m sitting behind my desk in my office, leaning back in a leather chair, my headset arched over my head. I pick up the yellow pages, close my eyes, open it to a random page and smack my finger down somewhere on the left margin. I open my eyes and dial the number that my index finger touches:

Ring. Ring

“Hello, this is Michael McDougan, president and sole decision maker at Enterprise Investment, how may I help you?” The man answers.

I clear my throat and say, “Hello sir, my name is Ross Gordon, I’m calling with—”

“Yes! I’ll take 100”

I take out my notebook and grab a Dr. Grip pen and open the notebook only to find Michael McDougan’s contact info neatly written in blue ink.

Just as I begin to celebrate with a Cuban cigar, my office starts looking blurry. Suddenly darkness. But a familiar darkness.

I roll over and look at my alarm clock. It’s 3am. The bright green light irritates my still dilated pupils. As I gain awareness of my whereabouts, I realize that I’ve been had by my subconscious yet again. I feel so foolish. I should have caught on when I saw the Dr. Grip pen. My office budget strictly limits us to Bic PenMates.

But as I lay in bed with the remnants of excitement still keeping me from sleep, I begin to think about my dreams. The previous week I dreamed that I got promoted, tonight night I dreamed of the cold-call from heaven. The more I think, the more I realize that most of my dreams contain very similar elements: my office, my boss, my computer, my phone, my clients, and the fish tank in our office. For some reason dreams with fairies and lottery jackpots and attractive women and me dunking from the free-throw line and one-legged, yodeling midgets with purple hats serving cocktails have all started to dwindle. Now everything is work related.

After a week of self-performed psychotherapy, I am doing slightly better. I try and reminisc about my pre-work dreams for 15 minutes before bed. Now my dream-version boss sometimes wears a purple hat and serves me a cocktail. But not much else has changed. And I’m not sure it ever will. But maybe that’s what being a working adult is all about. Maybe fun dreams with skydiving and world-saving belong to kids. Or maybe I’m just becoming a square at a faster rate than average. But at least my nightmares are still exciting. I dread the night when I show up to a budget meeting in tighty-whities.

How to be the best salesman ever

The other night I met with a salesman, or as he called himself, “a performance based employee,” to discuss financial planning options (life insurance, retirement planning, saving for a home, etc…). Now, like most people, I have aversion to salesmen. I do not like being swindled, or cajoled, or made to feel guilty—all of these common salesmen tactics. But this performance based employee was better than average. I did note some of his tricks although he did a fine job of building rapport. But the real reason I probably opened up to him was that he did not have the signs of a typical salesman.

Being a salesman is more than just fast-talk, and smooth lines. It’s a look. A culture. And unfortunately I think that is why so many people hate salesman; they have their guard up from the moment they meet. So to all the salesmen out there, here are a few rules that may help you become a better salesman:

Limit the amount of hair gel you use
As a general salesman rule, use only a half-teaspoon of hair gel for every estimated 60,000 hairs on your head. Too many salesmen go overboard with the gel. If you can snap your hair in half, you know it’s too much.

Avoid the “slick-back”
Unless your Italian, or related to the mafia in some other way, never slick your hair back. The last feeling I want when someone is trying to sell me something is that I’ll have a new pair of cement boots and be relocated to the bottom of a river. If your hair naturally slicks back, try giving it a slight angle.

Scale down your wheels
When a salesman comes to meet me and he drives up in a Porsche, I can’t help but get the feeling that he needs my sale for that month’s car payment. It also shows that there are a lot of suckers out there and I don’t want to be one of them. The same applies for expensive suits and jewelry.

Lay off the pinks and purples
Many salesmen think it’s a requirement to be a metrosexual. This isn’t necessarily true. Try laying off some of the flamboyant colors and stick to traditional colors like dark greens, brown, and black (always a classic). Also, your glasses frames should not be any thicker than a #2 pencil.

Don’t wink at me. Ever.
I hate it when salespeople wink. If you want a date, just ask, otherwise let me know what you have to offer.

I only want one card
Don’t give me a stack of 10 business cards because their’s no chance I’ll give them to any of my friends. Especially if you have not met my previous recommendations.

Stop trying to make personal connections
Who cares if we’re from the same state? Or graduated with the same degree? Or we both got drunk and threw up at our sister’s wedding? The more you make me seem like you, the more I’ll want to shoot myself. Just sell me your product and get the hell out.

Kill the metaphors.
In no way is a broken copy machine like a racehorse with a brain tumor. Please stop trying to confuse us with illogical metaphors.

I hope you use these recommendations to make you a better performance based employee. Some will take practice, and hard work, but if you have the drive then you should be able to do it. Because a predictable salesman is like a swimming pool with too much chlorine.

Three Wonderings of a Fish Feeding, Resume’ Reading, Account Managing Copywriter.

I work for a small—no, very small business and I’d like to share a few of the mysteries that I have often wondered about in the very small business world:

1. Why is there extra space after my job title on my business card?
See, in the world of small business your business card has room for extra, invisible job titles. For instance, your business card may say “John Doe, Sales”. But then you notice the extra space after the word “sales”. You see nothing. But the funny thing is that your boss has magical glasses and he can see the invisible ink after “sales.” It reads: John Doe, Sales, Errand Runner, Secretary, Trash Taker-Outer, Fish Tank Cleaner, Fill in the blank______. You’ll check a thousand times and you’ll never see any of them. But your boss knows best. After all, he paid for the cards.

2. What’s up with the fish tank?
Another mystery in the world of very small business is the fascination bosses have with fish tanks. Our office has a fish tank the size of a treasure chest filled with sickening cichlids. My boss is the only one who treasures it. I suppose that’s because he does not have to clean the tank. Or feed the fish. Or fill the water on a daily basis. Come to think of it they don’t spend any quality time together. He’s a deadbeat pet owner.

The real kicker is that he can’t even afford it. At the end of every month we go over our expenses, trying to cut costs and increase profit. We look down the list of costs and circle what we can omit next month. His pen slides down the paper slowly, starting at the top. “Paper supplies?” He rhetorically asks. “Need it.” That’s an easy one. We go through some of the more obvious expenses and they all get a “Need it.” As he goes down the list, me eyes skip ahead to the fish tank, waiting for that sloppy circle of his. After all, this month was tough and we have to cut what’s not important.

He gets to the tank. “Need it.” (even adds a little extra emphasis). “Ummm” I chime in. “Are you sure we need that? Our costs were a little high this month and we need to cut something.” And he answers me, “ I know, but we can’t get rid of the tank. Clients love it. I’ll find something else to cut.” I can’t help but think to myself that we have not had a client here in months.

A week later I notice that the water guy has stopped refilling the water machine. Man, does that make me…thirsty.

3. What century is our equipment from?
One of the worst parts of small business is that owners are cheap (unless a fish tank is involved). If you look around my office you may notice that the computer monitors look like large UPS boxes. I often wonder if 100 years from now a historian were to visit my office, would he even recognize these prehistoric projection units? The last thing you see in a very small business is a very thin, flat panel LCD monitor.

The copy machine is no work of modern science either. I half expect to open it and find a crack snorting midget scribbling to keep up with the scanning light above his head. Or maybe a mouse on a running wheel, hooked up with wires, chasing after a dangling piece of cheese just out of reach. And don’t get me started on the fax.

But so goes the life of a small business employee. And while it’s not always the most glamorous place to work, you do get a lot of experience that you might not otherwise get. Like where else would I learn how to fix a level 3 paper jam? Exactly. And that’s why I can’t complain.