Letters From an Old Time Salesman to His Son

by Roy Lester James

Now, Spud, your pup and Puss, the mother cat, were never what you might call affinities. Even though the two families with whom they were living were always close friends, the same measure of respect and esteem was not shared by Spud and Puss. As a result, every time Spud would spy Puss in the backyard he’d let out a mongrel yelp and start for her with the obvious intention of annihilating her.

Now the thing that used to impress me about this almost daily scene was that when Puss didn’t have any kittens—no family responsibilities, as it were—when Spud rushed for her she’d turn tail and do a double-quick for the nearest tree, registering all the fear and retiring qualities that we come to expect in the female of the species.

But when Puss had kittens, still undrowned, particularly when she was enjoying a siesta in their presence, Spud could make his flying start with all the gusto and bluff that is common to cur tactics, but when he arrived at the point of contact Puss would bow her back, never budge an inch and show all the courage of the early Spartans. The result, of course, was that on such occasions the fun was all out of the game for Spud and he was clearly “sold” on the proposition that Puss could not be bluffed, and he’d beat a hasty retreat before getting within paw-length of the confident Puss.

Now, Red, that’s all there is to the story, except the moral. Just consider the salient points. Same dog, same cat, same backyard, but different performance. Why, Red, why? Ah!—you’ve got it, I know. Inspiration—that’s it—that’s the word. Puss with kittens had an inspiration that Puss without them didn’t have.

Now, Boy, take this lesson right home with you and apply it to your own problem. What your salesmen lack is inspiration, and you’re the little doctor with the hypodermic to give it to ’em. Of course, it doesn’t apply literally, even though some people do claim that the man with the big family has as many more reasons as he has mouths to feed, why he should make a success, but—I don’t mean it that way, Red—I don’t mean it that way. You must teach your men to speak and feel about your company as “We,” not as “the house.”

Any man with a single spark of ambition should look forward to an eventual goal, considerably farther than the weekly pay-check. His permanency on their payroll and the advancement he should hope to merit, depends entirely upon the combined efforts of the company family. His success is their success, and without favorable results neither he, nor they, can prosper.

Teach ’em, Red—show ’em their responsibility! Fire their minds and hearts with the fact that they’re not working for the company—bless your heart, Boy, they are the company to all intent and purpose on their territory, and either their lackadaisical or their aggressive, businesslike demeanor and actions will be interpreted by their trade exactly as they appear and the company will be so reflected. And when you tell ’em, Red, be sure that the enthusiasm you have, which as you know, is the fuse that ignites opportunity, is showing in your eyes, your face and is reflected from your heart. Enthusiasm—Inspiration. Ah! Red, it’s contagious—show ’em how proud you are to say “We”—show ’em that it’s a privilege to be a part of an organization that holds the place it does in the firmament of a big business. Sell ’em the company idea first—then sell ’em the line.

After that, Red, if I’m not mistaken, you’ll have ’em sitting on the edge of the chair, rarin’ to go, filled with the kind of red-blooded courage that has made American ideas and American ideals a synonym for accomplishment.

If you sell your salesmen all that, Old Top, and keep ’em sold by your living example, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about the results they turn in. If that doesn’t work, then the Old Man’s experience with human nature is a failure and he’ll be disappointed in his own judgment and the ability of his fire-brand son.

Keep me posted—I like it.