Winners Advertising: September 1994

With the advent of Caller ID, I believe Door-to-Door salesman has replaced Telemarketer as THE most annoying type of salesperson.  Granted, Telemarketers have the advantage of numbers and the persistence of rabid dogs to garner some first place votes, but they can be fairly easily avoided.  However, nothing chaps my ass more than someone banging on my door trying to sell me something.  The very activity is counter to the shopping experience.  What should happen is a consumer develops a need for a product and then GOES OUT to research and to find a solution.  What is sold as “customer convenience” is really intrusive and uncomfortable.  Door-to-door sales calls are like prostate exams.

When I want or need to buy something, I will shop for it at a store of my choosing and at a time convenient for me.  I’m denied both when a salesman comes a-calling.  The person has no idea if I’m tying one on, sleeping one off, or rubbing one out.  The fact I might be doing any combination of the three should make door-to-door salespeople uncomfortable enough to stop the practice.

This is how I would rank the worst sales person jobs as a customer, from most to least annoying:

1.) Door-to-Door

2.) Telemarketing

3.) Mall Kiosk

4.) Used Car

5.) Time Share

I know of what I speak.  For an entire week, I was a D2D salesperson, selling punch cards for a restaurant in the surrounding suburbs of Massachusetts.  I was on the job for five days, but have memories that will last me a lifetime.

I was just out of college and was looking at the end of a temp job my aunt found for me in Boston.  I scoured the Want Ads and found an ad for a company looking for people to sell in a “fun, fast paced environment” and offered to train the “right individual” on a “fast track to management.”  I believe the ad mentioned a sports theme as an added hook.  There wasn’t an address to send a resume as interested applicants were encouraged to call.  I did, and set-up an interview for later that week.

The interview went well as I completed some paperwork and met with the location manager, an odd, mousy guy who would shake hands without allowing his elbow to leave his side, forcing the other person to come to him.  I think this was an intentional tactic.  He asked me to return early on the following Monday to meet some of the other people in the office.  I was excited, but a little perplexed as he stressed that I should wear comfortable shoes.

When I arrived on Monday, there were two other applicants sitting in chairs in the reception area.  While we waited, a number of people would come and go through a door, which lead to an unknown area.  We could hear muted conversations and then a cheer erupted.  Soon after, twenty to thirty people spilled out of the room.  Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, laughing and joking with one another.

As the room emptied, three people remained behind.  The location manager introduced each regular to one applicant.  We were being paired up for training.  My training buddy was named Jake or Josh (I’ll just refer to him as “JJ”) and I got the distinct impression he was a middling athlete who played on his college’s lacrosse or soccer team.  Our instructions were to simply watch, listen, and learn.  JJ and I had your standard get-to-know-you conversation as we drove to our selling area, a heavily wooded suburb in western Massachusetts.  I still wasn’t exactly sure what we were going to do, until he parked the car near the corner of a street and started to walk down the road.  For the next eight hours, I followed him as we walked our selected streets, trying to sell punch cards to housewives, retirees, and babysitters.

At day’s end, I was exhausted and eager to head back to the office.  My feet were okay, but my legs were tired from walking just about the whole time, except for when we stopped for lunch.  The ride home was a relief, and I was hoping I wouldn’t have to stay long at the office.  When we got back, there was loud music playing and I was disappointed to see all the chairs that were in the reception area that morning were missing.  Most of the other salespeople had returned as well and they were joking and laughing with each other as they were that morning.  The group was primarily men, but I did see a couple women.  At times, the salespeople would say “juice” or “juice by you” and high five each other.  JJ told me JUICE was an acronym that meant “Join Us In Creating Excitement.”  Looking back, I should have given him my own acronym “AYSAH” – Are You Serious, Asshole?!

I should have run screaming from the office that night, but I didn’t.  The loud music and spirit of camaraderie had affected me and since this was my best prospect at the time, I decided I would return the next day.  I was told to get to the office a little earlier for the morning meeting.  I finally headed home about 9p to a girlfriend who was concerned she hadn’t heard from me all day.  I explained to her what the nature of the job was and she accepted it with a little trepidation.

My eyes were opened on the following day.  I got to the office early as requested and saw JJ and others had already arrived.  The reception area looked as it had the first two times I saw it, with chairs by the wall, but the boom box was blaring again.  People had formed into groups and were speaking loudly to each other.  After a few minutes, one guy turned down the music.

“Hey, Guys!”

“Hey what,” the entire room responded, at least those in the know.

“Hey, Guys!”

“Hey what?”

“Who wants a meeting?”

“WE WANT A MEETING!  WE WANT A MEETING!  WE WANT A MEETING!”

While they chanted, the group filed into a large room set-up like a staging area.  When I told my family much later about what I had witnessed, my brother joked it would be a short step to change “meeting” to “ritual killing.”  That would be a little cumbersome to chant, but I could see it going like this:

“WE WANT A SACRIFICE!  WE WANT A SACRIFICE!  WE WANT A SACRIFICE!”

We formed a semi-circle facing a wall with a whiteboard.  I learned each morning a salesperson was selected to give a short speech to the group.  As a way of introduction, the group would sing the opening credits song of the ‘Tonight Show’ and then chant:

“AND HERE’S THE LIGHTS!”  Someone would flick the lights on and off repeatedly.

“AND HERE’S THE CAMERA!”  The group would pantomime the charades sign for “movie.”

“AND HEEEEEEEERE’S, JJ!”

As JJ would go around the semi-circle high-fiving everyone, the group would continue chanting:

“JJ’S GOT JUICE NOW GET FIRED UP JJ YOU’VE GOT JUICE GET FIRED UP!  JUICE!”

JJ would get in front of the group and ask, “How’re you doing?”  On the wall was written the group's response.

“FANTASTIC!  TERR-IFFIC!  GRRREAT!  BOOM!  JUICE!  WE’VE GOT JUICE NOW!  BOOM!  GET FIRED UP!  BOOM!  GET FIRED UP!  BOOM!  GET FIRED UP!  JUUUUICE!”

It was around this time when I had the shocking realization.  Oh my God!  I joined a cult! Worse yet, a fraternity! 

JJ gave a mediocre talk to inspire the group.  Afterwards, we got into small groups to practice our sales pitch.  Once we were warmed up, we were ready to hit the streets.  The second day, I was partnered with JJ again and we walked a new area.  This time, I was to try my hand at selling.  We traded houses throughout the day and was able to sell a handful of cards.  Like the previous day, we took a quick break for lunch, and spent most of the day walking until it was time to go home at dark.

I lost my drive for the job after Day Two.  However, my irrational need for approval and not disappoint others kept me coming back.  I think it was obvious I didn’t have the same passion and the next two days, I was paired with two different guys who were a little more experienced and had a more out-going personality than JJ.  The location manager was trying to find someone to draw me out a little more.  The best I could muster was the announcement during the Friday morning meeting that I was going to canvass an area by myself.  The location manager challenged me to sell ten cards that day and I said, “I’m there!”

I was nowhere close.  I did sell seven cards, but it was on my solo day I decided I was not cut out for this job.  I remember my Day Three partner telling me we started at subsistence level selling as I watched coolant drip from his car.  I was looking for some security and benefits from my job.  After Day Two, I was milling around the office with JJ and we were talking with one of the few women in the office and a douchey Alpha Male type.  The woman asked me how well I did.  “Pretty good.  I sold five.”  Both of their faces fell and the woman leaned in and told me, “you’re not supposed to say how many you sold, in case someone else sold less.”  Then there was the guy who was bragging to his friends how his girlfriend didn’t like his job, so he dumped her.  This lead to a round of high fives and “juice by you” calls.

Also on Day Two, JJ told me the facts of the business.  The clients never paid a cent for the marketing program.  The restaurant would only have to honor the free meal for the first visit and the one after 10 punches.  From the $20 punch card, the salesperson got $12, the location manager got $1, and the remaining $7 went into the printing of the cards and overhead.  It was a pyramid scheme.  The location manager never set foot in a territory.  He had 30-40 people selling punch cards.  If they averaged just 5 cards per person per day, he could pull in as much $1000 a week just sitting in the office.  I wanted no part of what is now called “Multi-Level Marketing.”

When I got back to the office on Friday, I sat with the location manager’s lieutenant and told him I didn’t see this working for me.  He asked me how many cards I sold for the week and I think it was less than 20.  He still said it was a solid effort.  Regardless, I didn’t want to do door-to-door anymore and he quickly stood up, shook my hand, and left the office.  As I was leaving, JJ stopped me and asked if I wanted to get involved on a road trip for the next campaign.  Again, not wanting to disappoint him, I told him we could talk on Monday.

When I got back home, I told my girlfriend I had quit the job.

“How did it go?”

“Well, the whole office got into a line with their legs spread and I had to crawl between their legs as they spanked my ass.  It was a spanking machine.”

From all she had heard previously, she thought I was serious.  Who knows?  Maybe that’s what they do now.