Sales….a dreaded field of work for some and a field of great opportunities filled with action and fast pace for some.
Today “door-to-door” salesmen have become a thing of the past, but there was a time when these guys were omnipresent in India with their “Vacuum Cleaners”, “Soda Maker’s”, “Encyclopedia’s” or “ Comics(Tintin/Astreix and not Nagraj or Dhruv(sadly)).
As a child I was always fascinated by them (the salesmen) and I would always gleefully invite them in the house whenever they came knocking…….. as if they were “Santa Claus” and were getting me gifts. This of course much to the discomfort of my folks who had given me strict instructions to bang the door when I saw one irrespective of what he was selling.
But I could never understand what harm lay in just watching a demo of the product that they were selling or gazing/turning pages of the comics they brought…… after all that didn’t cost anything did it.
My fascination with them just simply didn’t lie in the wares (read comics) they sold but also because I liked the whole concept of their work, it appeared adventurous to my young mind, the whole thought of roaming wherever you wanted and meeting new people appealed to me very much(now I think what a fool I was).
May be it was because of having someone new in the house appealed to me or maybe it was close to the story “Kabuliwala” that I had read in my syllabus or maybe I was just bored and wanted something, someone to kill time with.
I guess I was too young to understand the intricacies involved in the job and only viewed the aspects involved….. through my young eyes.
My mother always liked the ones who came with a “vacuum cleaner” and they were treated with a little more respect in the house. This was for a simple reason she used to take this opportunity to make them remove the dust/dirt from the corners/places that were unreachable to normal humans. This was done very slyly, while she pretended that she was merely checking the handiness of the product and was genuinely looking forward to buy it. But buy…alas…. she never did.
Now I narrate the incidents one fine summer afternoon (it’s always the summer, how typical) many ages ago (around 15 years roughly…. am not an octogenarian).
It was vacation time and I was spending much of my valuable time at home doing practically nothing, just enjoying my time in my dream world. To those to whom this might look surprising let me clarify there was a time when the magic of Home PC had not invaded India yet, and children preferred playing outdoor sports than WOW (world of War craft) and they let their imagination run wild.
The door bell rang and broke my trance. I got up to answer the door, expecting to find a god send friend to my rescue, to deliver me from boredom. It turned out to be a salesman, I grunted with disappointment and was about to close the door after saying the well rehearsed “No, thank you” that I saw what he held in his hands. He held “Flight 714” amongst other comics of Tintin. What’s so special about it, well…for one it was the only comic in Tintin series that I had not read. This would complete it. This surely was something for which I could bear my mother’s scolding, as the thrill to go through those colorful pages was worth it. My heart was pumping like an engine; excitement was too small a word to describe my state.
So with great hope and exhilaration I invited him into the hall and asked him to take the seat.
He started of by asking if there was an adult in the house, as if my 10 years on this planet did not account for anything.
“Yes, there was but why do you need him/her after all”, I wondered. I am the target customer for your product, show the comics to me, and let me appreciate them”. But all good things come with a price and so did this. A price which was monetary in nature and out of my purview. My likings didn’t matter; it was my mother who could purchase them.
I wondered if I had enough in my “piggy bank’ to use the alternate channel to close the sale, but then I remembered how I had squandered off my savings, on a stupid treat given to my stupid friends, for scoring full marks in a stupid “class test”. I cursed my intelligence. Stupid me …attempting all the questions. But, the damage was already done.
So with a heavy heart and with a certain surety of the outcome I went to my mother’s room where she was enjoying her siesta.
My mother never liked to be disturbed in her slumber, and to be disturbed for such a trivial issue…what I was thinking. I knew the battle was already lost before the first bullet was fired. But being a great believer in luck and destiny I still ventured forward.
Charge………………!!!
^*^$*^*($^*(@^*)_*!_@_*_*@_*__*!_*!@_*_!*_@*!
She brushed me off.
Her reply to my humble request was no different from my expectation. My feeble attempts to use my innocent (cute) facial expressions to my advantage did not pay any dividends whatsoever.
As I was returning to the hall with my quashed sprits I noticed some loose cash lying on the dressing table. Should I ….my need was questioning my morality. The adrenaline was making a rush; the veins on my temple were bulging…..should I…?
I thought and thought again.
No.
Somehow I could not get myself to do the unthinkable, the inconceivable….. I could not steal, not from my own home.
It was not honesty or similar virtues taught by my mother which made me take this decision , but my sanity which made me think about the spanking I would get in case my heist was discovered.
I went back to Mr. Salesman with a heavy heart, but instead of breaking him the real news I sang a different tune altogether. I convinced him of having procured the money from my mother and it was at my disposal. I stated that before signing off I wanted to confirm the quality of stuff I was procuring. Which actually meant, I wanted to read and go through the comic superfast before him being any wiser about my intentions and of my broke state. (I swear the plan appeared quite ingenious at that time).
The next 15 minutes were spend gazing and polishing off the comic at lightening fast speed, with two opposite thought processes running in both of our minds. While he thought he would make the sale, I knew the reality and was thinking on completing the comic ASAP.
But soon he got weary of the whole scenario and began to suspect my real intentions. He asked if I wanted to purchase any one of the books or not and if I did I better pay up now as he had to go to other places too.
I looked up at him with my pleading eyes which if he could have read would have said “Please let me at least finish the story that I am reading”. Well reading eyes or your expression is more philosophical and reality is way different. So I replied to his query with my articulate reply “The books aren’t interesting enough”.
“Not interesting enough”, wow what was I saying.
A lie, a blatant lie, but did I have any other option.
The salesman got up, with a frustrated look and a frown on his face. He must have surely cursed me under his breath for wasting so much of his time.
As I closed the door on him, my mind was perplexed, “how would the story have ended?, “ What was Capt. Haddock’s next plan?” . I was desperate, I wanted to read the book, I wanted to, I wanted to.
Alas, these tantrums were only in my feeble mind.
I had to get that book, at that moment it appeared as if my life depended on it.
I ran to the terrace to have a last look, I saw the guy walking towards the main road, with his bag dangling on one side. The bag which had my treasure (my precious: LOTR), a treasure whose value only I knew.
I made my mind; I wanted the comic and was ready to pay any price for it, which need not have been monetary.
I ran first towards my mother’s room and then outside the house.
In a split second my innocence was lost.
I was transformed from a KID to man.
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