The Boy Writes That He Has Arrived as a “Regular” Salesman
Dear Hal:
Your mother and I have just finished reading your last letter, and while I realize that you may be getting pretty well fed up on my letters, I cannot help commenting on some of the things you have written about.
I imagine it is just about as much fun for you to get one of my letters as holding a horse in a rain. You probably look on them as containing the proverbial “good advice.” I can almost hear you saying more men have starved to death on good advice than were ever killed on the field of battle.
All of that I’ll admit, but words from an old traveler of the road you’ve just started on is a good deal like castor oil—you kick up a lot of fuss if you have to take it when you’re young, but as you grow older you realize that it didn’t hurt you a bit and in most cases prolonged the life of your “engine.”
I notice that you have gone just far enough in the selling game to discover that your goods are higher priced than every competitor’s; the merchants overloaded; business on the bum; the office manager a crab; the credit man hard-boiled and the plant unappreciative of what a salesman is up against.
Well—now, isn’t that just too bad! But doesn’t it occur to you that with everything so badly messed up, it is strange that the firm continues to worry along and pay dividends on its stock, year after year? Of course, the buyer tells you your prices are too high—otherwise he wouldn’t be the buyer, but would more probably be rolling barrels of salt around in the basement for a living—you don’t expect him to ask you to add a little to the price, do you? And man alive!—if the goods would sell themselves your company could replace you with a post-card.
Last, but not least, they thought best to hire a 1922 model eight-cylinder salesman, like you (you scamp) instead of trying to get by with a two-cylinder flivver that isn’t a self-starter.
Business is bum, eh? I’m sorry you told me because that’s the cry of the quitter and I hate to think you would make a phonograph record of yourself. Business is bad for some people all the time and similarly, business is good for others most of the time. Now I’m willing to admit, understand, that there are business lulls in all lines, but if you’ll trace back the origin of that expression, I’ll wager you’ll find the thought was first expressed by one of those hotel lobby lizards who got used to the buyer hunting him up during the recent period of big demand and small supply. To the fellow who really loves the game (and if you don’t you shouldn’t be in it) the changed conditions, or the lull, if you prefer that name, only means more “turndowns” which can be overcome by “more calls” and at the end of the day, he finds he’s been too busy to notice that lull and his order-book may reflect smaller orders, but gee—he’s got a lot of ’em!