Home | Literature

An old sales manager
By: BG Stroup

I saw an old sales manager the other day. I knew what he was because I had once been one of those myself, and knew all of the signs. He was sitting in a place with other salespeople, from various companies, all young, and all attired in the very best business dress. The young men with oh so carefully manicured hair, with ties absolutely in place, and shoes that had a mirror shine. The women were young too, with just the right amount of makeup, different of course for each of them. The old sales manager must have been about to retire. The silver in his hair was abundant now. The worry lines on his cheeks were evident, and the crow's feet around his eyes went on until they disappeared into his hair. I took him for around 59, the age when they started telling him about all the cash he could drag, and how he needed to take trips, Europe and the South pacific and all the exotic locales. He was going to retire, whether he wanted to or not.

If he was like I had been, he was somewhat in agreement. It was time. His eyes had seen more than a million miles of roads, and countless hotels and motels. Also the air travel, always inconvenient and which would more than likely meet with the failure of his objective at the end. Above all though, he lacked the drive. He had lost it somehow, and knew that he would never get it back. Lacking the drive, he slid by on his knowledge, but time was running out. Running out on a way of life that he had lived for more than thirty years. The worst things to him, would be the familiar faces that he would never see again, the good people, and the old customers that had become friends. The places he would never see again. The special restaurant, and the familiar motel, that promised rest for his weary body.

He arose, and the silver glinted in his hair as he walked across to a little table, and reaching inside his coat pocket, pulled out a few Christian tracts, and placed them carefully on the table. He walked back and sat down, seemingly unconscious of the uneasy looks from the others. I wondered what road he had been on, or what hotel he had been in, or just what conditions he was under, when he had decided that Christianity was his only path, and that Christ was truth.

The young ones engaged in a certain kind of banter between themselves. They were young people with education and ambition, and that drive which one must have for a career in sales, which is indeed essential for success in the beginning, but would be modified a bit with time.

Even the easy banter and the movements the young sales people made were a carefully crafted ballet of oneupmanship.

One young man didn't engage in the conversations very much, he sat next to the sales manager, who, when they were ushered in to see the chief, would be able to pick out every flaw, every nuance of incorrectness. Any type of mistake that might later be called to the young man’s attention.

Once inside, to see the 'Chief,' the older man would sit with his body pulled as far away as he could from the chair of the younger man, letting his body language indicate; that the ball was in the young mans court.

The old sales manager was ready to leave the game. If he didn't, then the game would leave him, and he knew that to be a fact that was now upon him. A career was over, and the old sales manager mourned inside. They would have a retirement dinner for him, and say kind and complimentary words, some of which were even true.

He would be forgotten within a year.

Article Source: http://journal.ilovephilosophy.com

Please Rate this Article

 

# of Ratings = 5 | Rating = 5/5

Click the XML Icon Above to Receive Literature Articles Via RSS!
Additional Articles From - Home | Literature
Sign Up as an Author.
Submit Articles
Member Login
Top Authors
Most Popular Articles
Submission Guidelines
Ezine Notifications
Article RSS Feeds
New Stuff
Forum
Link to Us
Contact Us

Powered by Article Dashboard