Interstellar Division
Terran Insurance Company
Baltimore, Md., Earth
Dear Sammy:
Six weeks now without a sale. What's the matter with you? Getting soft? Homesick? Joanie is all right, I assure you. Hell's bells, man, IF YOU CAN PLANET-FALL, YOU CAN SELL. And by the way, you go right ahead and sell 'em. Let the boys in the actuary department worry about having to pay off immediately. We're sales, Sammy. Sales.
Why don't you go out into the grass roots somewhere, where this bird from Fomalhaut hasn't tried his hand? Maybe he's soured all the Halcyonians on life insurance with the wrong approach. Over-aggressive or something.
Buck up, Sammy. I've still got a little faith in you. Explore. Consider. Sweat. Sell.
Yours in sales,
Herman Spottsworth
Rmpldecroidesanspertxkle
Halcyon
Dear Boss:
I'm out here in Rmpldecroidesanspertxkle trying your suggestion about the grass roots. It's a small town, population under two thousand, without an important war industry. You'd think it would be safe from air-raids, but it's not. As I told you when I first reached Halcyon, they have no real reason for war. War is like a game with them. Their best bombers are sent out after hospital ships, I understand. 'Tennyrate, tomorrow I'm going to try my luck here in Rmpldecroidesanspertxkle.