SALES TALK
By H. F. CENTE
Bennett, the salesman, gave a lot of
thought to a world that was going to the
dogs. But he gave more thought to the Cosmic
salesman who could make it a reality.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories July 1953.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
There are two things to know about a salesman, the first being that his present job is just to tide him over until the position he is really fitted for comes along.
Big Bill Bennett was no exception to this first rule.
Nor was he an exception to the second, of which more later.
Just back from the Moon on a block selling assignment, he lounged into his branch office an hour late and told his boss that, though it hurt his unmarred conscience to quit when the whole corporation would feel the loss, this was it.
His boss, who knew that Bill was as indispensable to Always-Stitch Sewing Machines as a bent needle, pretended great sorrow and wanted to know what Bill was going to do.