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First Experiences In Selling
by
“Before I got to the front door, he came up and took the grip out of my hand and piled it out on the sidewalk and gave me a shove. Then he went back to show the customer the pair of shoes.
“I was just a boy then–was just nineteen–and this was the first man I’d called on.
“‘If they’re all like this,’ thought I to myself, ‘I believe I’ll go back home and sell them a pair at a time to the boys I know who “come in” for them.’
“I lugged that grip back to the hotel, hungry as I was. There was ice on the sidewalk but I was sweating like a mule pulling a bob-tailed street car full of fat folks. I was almost famished but I went to my room and cried like a child. My heart was broken.
“But after awhile my nerve came back to me, and I thought, surely all the merchants I call on won’t be like that man,–and I washed up and went down to supper. After eating something I felt better. At the supper table I told an old traveling man, who was sitting at the table with me, about the way I’d been treated.
“‘Well, come on, my boy, and I’ll sell you a bill tonight. That old fellow is the meanest dog in Iowa. No decent traveling man will go near him. As a rule, you’ll find that merchants will treat you like a gentleman. The best thing you can do is to scratch that old whelp off the list. Of course you know,’ said he, giving me advice which I needed very much, ‘you’ll often run up against a man who is a little sour, but if you sprinkle sugar on him in the right kind of way, you can sweeten him up.’
“You know how it is, boys, even now, all of us like to give a helping hand to the young fellow who’s just starting out. I would almost hand over one of my customers to a young man to give him encouragement, and so would you. We’ve all been up against the game ourselves and know how many things the young fellow runs up against to dishearten him.
“As I think of my early experiences, I recall with a great deal of gratitude in my heart the kind deeds that were done for me when I was the green first-tripper, by the old timers on the road. My new friend took me down the street to one of his customers and made him give me an order. That night I went to bed the happiest boy in Iowa.”
With this one of the boys called a waiter. As we lit our cigars my friend Moore, who was next to tell his story, said, “Well, boys, here’s to Our First Experiences.”