The Life of a Salesman
Edition: June 2004 - Vol 12 Number 06
Author: Heath H. Wilson
Eight o’clock rolls around after I’ve had my coffee and hash browns. The first account I see asks, “Where is my sterile water? “I’m sorry, but it’s on back order.” The life of a salesman.
I get a call from Dr. Mike. He says, “I would like to set up an account!” “I’m sorry, doctor, but your credit is down and out.” The life of a salesman.
I approach the lady at the front desk and say, “Hello, my name is Heath, and I’m better than the rest,” and she replies, “I’m sorry, but we already deal with PSS.” The life of a salesman.
When days are good, they’re really good, like when you land that account you always knew you could. But when days are bad, they’re really bad, like when their first order is something we don’t have. The life of a salesman.
So I make a call to Ron Fleitz and say, “Hey, I need it overnight.” He replies, “Sure, but the shipping costs are out of sight.” The life of a salesman.
Judgment day comes, the end of the month when they separate the men from the runts. The numbers roll in, the agony begins and you just increased sales once again. For those five seconds you let off a hidden grind and think, “Oh how good it is to be a salesman!”
Heath Wilson is a salesman with Turenne PharMedCo in Montgomery, Ala. He sells pharmaceuticals, medical-surgical supplies and equipment to physicians in Alabama. He wrote this poem and delivered it at the recent annual meeting of Nashville, Tenn.-based Starline. [Note that Ron Fleitz is managing director of Starline.]