Chairman of the Board

Chairman of the Board

It was the spring of 1976, not long after our marriage, and we were both out of school and out of work. My wife was looking for a job in sales and I was just looking to find something, anything, that I could believe in and perhaps leverage into a career. We saw an advertisement in the Sunday paper for a firm seeking account executives to sell and distribute an exciting product that was expected to generate a wide appeal in the regional area; after some sort of placement test, they would conduct interviews the following week. Early Monday morning Loretta and I called the number in the ad; we arranged to take the placement test together the following day.
 
We drove into mid-Connecticut from our home in Coventry to find the regional office. I wore a tie and a sport coat, Loretta wore a bright dress. We found the offices in a building housing several other small businesses. Entering, a receptionist welcomed us warmly. The rooms were bright and the furniture new. We were quickly led to a long table and given a folder that contained some pieces of paper and a preprinted form. The form had about twenty questions printed on it, and the pieces of paper were for those who needed more room for their answers. Loretta and I finished the placement test and sat down to wait while minds unknown went through the results somewhere in a different room. A man and a woman came back to the reception area with the results; they were interested in interviewing me for a position, but not Loretta. I scheduled a follow-up interview for the next day, and then we left. Later I would find out the details; the product was a glorified vacuum cleaner, and the reason I ”passed” the placement test was an answer I supplied to one of the placement questions. When asked what I felt was a suitable position to strive for within the company, I had written ‘Chairman of the Board’.
 
So began the Account Executive phase of my life. I quickly learned that there would be no account servicing or distributing, only door-to-door selling. This Vacuum product had no vacuum bags but a bowl in the bottom with water in it, this was supposed to eliminate dust and save on bags; one just poured out the dirty water. However, the price for this convenience was five hundred to one thousand dollars depending on accessories, a steep amount to get out of the homeowners of the time, most of whom were elderly women who did not really need another vacuum cleaner. I spent a week, unpaid, learning the company drill about the product's good points and how to sell products to homeowners in their own home (just close the deal: close, close, close). I also learned about the company and its annual sales convention where top sellers earned high rewards and desirable gifts. This was the beginning of my disenchantment; account executives received rewards that looked more like cheap sheriff deputy badges that had diamonds of various sizes in them. I know how a scam bonus plan works; I want it in my base. If there has to be a bonus, it had better be cash. What do you do with a shield with a diamond in it? The top sales performers would rise up to be district distributors and have the opportunity to bring new people (like myself) into the fold, and so earn even gaudier shields with larger diamonds in them.
 
Our regional leader, and my manager, was the girlfriend of the Northeastern manager, or some-such title. It looked like her expertise was more in the line of lap dancing than schlepping vacuum cleaners door-to-door. However, she did possess two lovely shields with diamonds in them, the pair of which she was very proud.
 
In our sales drill, we learned how to show the quality of construction and durability of the product. Moreover, we learned two demonstration techniques to use in the home. First, we would vacuum an area with the homeowners vacuum. Then, taking a spotlight with a tin-cone cover and a handle, we would scrape the area of the carpet just cleaned with the metal cone and turn on the light while raising the lamp; the air would be filled with particles of dust in the bright beam. Secondly, we learned how to put foam cushions from inside the seat covers of couches or recliners into plastic bags. Then we would insert the vacuum tube and suck them into a flat hard square that was about one-tenth the size, thus showing the strength of the vacuum and ostensibly cleaning the foam as well.
 
Just as in the movie Glengarry Glen Ross, management had a collection of ‘leads’ that were perceived to be of some value to the selling force. The leads we used were usually gleaned from “information” cards interested parties filled out at town fairs or super markets that promised some new gift if a homeowner were willing to watch a demonstration of the product in their home. Unfortunately for the sales force, we never had the gifts that were promised. We were told to concoct a story about the gifts being on back order, or on the way, and that they would be dropped off at a later date. If they bought a vacuum cleaner, we would buy a gift for them after the deal closed.
 
Loretta and I had one car, and this created some stress. One day I had a promising sales call, but she was off interviewing. I waited for her and she picked me up after it was over, and we went to the sales call together. Arriving at the house I introduced Loretta and myself to the man and his wife. He was a bear of a man who had worked 30 years in the post office, and was very proud of his home and everything he had accomplished. After that, I unloaded the equipment from the car.
 
As I set up inside he asked me two questions. The first was, “Where’s the gift?”  I gave him the dodge and told him that we should have them in soon and that someone at the office would deliver one to them. The second question was, “This isn’t a vacuum cleaner, is it?”
 
This was so embarrassing. I went into the story I was taught, telling him it was much more that that. I set up my gear and got the lady of the house to vacuum a small patch of carpet in front of me with her own vacuum cleaner. I did the dust in the spotlight routine, perfect and impressive. Next, I reached for a seat cushion from the couch.
 
“Hold on, son,” he said, “that couch is brand new.”
 
“And I’m going to show you how to keep it that way,” I replied neatly, as I deftly slid the foam cushion out of its cover and put it in a bag. Soon I had it shrunk down to a solid small mass. “By doing this regularly, you can keep your furniture fresh from the inside out.”
 
Then, somehow, it all went awry. I must have hit the wrong switch and dirty water began pouring into the bag with the cushion, cascading down the plastic and quickly filling it and staining the foam. Loretta was shrieking with laughter while rocking back and forth in her chair. The man was yelling, and his wife stared at me open-mouthed. I stopped the machinery from pumping more water, and I handed him the plastic bag full of dirty water with his re-expanded cushion soaking it up like a sponge. In a blur, I packed up the gear and Loretta and I were on our way out of the house. Loretta was still laughing as we got in the car, and I was mortified. Her laughter was contagious, however, and I was soon roaring along with her as we headed home for the evening.
 
My Account Executive career was over two days later. One evening while answering phones at the office, the Northeast director called asking for his girlfriend, and in doing so gave me a drunken tirade that included some suggestions as to what I might do with certain parts of my anatomy. After taking the opportunity to question his masculinity and genetic heritage, I turned in my demo gear and called an end to my vacuum cleaner selling career. I would no longer be out there with a shoeshine and a handshake, or a dirty plastic bag full of water either. I came up a little short of chairman of the board, but my sense of humor was intact and I had rescued what integrity and resolve as I could from the seamy situation. All this hustle and flow directed at getting elderly home owners to sign on the line so that others might earn gaudy badges festooned with diamonds was abhorrent, and I had bought into this scheme because I needed the money. I was ashamed. From that experience, I brought my own litmus test to future interviews and job endeavors, the litmus test of living with myself at the end of the day. Yet I look back on the experience with a smile and a laugh, oh the things we do to get by.