GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #751: A FELLA CAN DREAM

 Last week at work we had a meeting of the minds for our supervisors. We have three national call centers, and I work at the corporate headquarters, so the sups from the other places all came visiting. They had a lot of meetings, so leads had to pick up the slack. And that left the leads' slack to pick up, and I was one of those who helped.

I'm not a sales guy, and yet I keep falling into these sales jobs. I wasn't meant to do this kind of thing. I come from a customer service background with a tech support flavor, so sales is not my strong suit. I'm good at it. Not great, but good. I would much rather not do it, though.

Two days last week I got to do something else. My call count suffered, as did my quota. I suspect that I'm not going to make my monthly quota for September because of it (I took a lot of time off for surgery and one day for Printers Row). It might have been worth it, though. There was little to no stress in doing a lead's job while he was busy doing a sup's job. It felt good do sit at my desk and not take calls from angry and desperate people who refuse to listen to anything I say unless I've said it three completely different times first.

It was relaxing, actually. And it was kind of fun. I'm a problem solver. I like to dig in, look at evidence and figure out solutions. I wasn't exactly solving homicides or anything so noble, but still. I got to dig into little mysteries, and I was able to solve them all. Many were very easy, but the last one I worked on was very difficult and required several different phone calls, but goddammit, I got to the bottom of it.

I miss getting that kind of shit done. The symposium is now over, so from today into the foreseeable future, it's back to sales. Although now I'm starting to wonder if maybe I could get a job as a lead there. I'd have to wait for someone to leave, which would be annoying, but I think I'd be considerably less miserable if I didn't work in my current position.

A fella can dream.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #657: BUSY SEASON

 The end of March and the beginning of April is supposed to be busy season in my line of work. People who need glass replaced on their cars don't like to get it done in the winter, and when spring comes, they crowd our phones looking to get scheduled. When busy season starts, that's when commission payments go through the roof for us.

Except the last three weeks have been kind of slow. That's unnerving, especially since I'm going to need those bonus checks now more than ever, what with the new car and the looming threat of moving soon. That extra money is going to be very important, and since things are going super slow right now, I'm starting to worry.

During busy season our phones ring nonstop. If, for some unholy reason, they stop ringing, that's when we start calling out. The only slow time during busy season is supposed to be on weekends. Except I'm starting to see Mondays, in theory our busiest day of the week, slowing to a crawl.

I always make my quota. I haven't missed a bonus check since the last time I was on short term disability back in August. But making it has been more difficult of late than it should be. Regularly, during busy season, I make 20 sales every Monday, maybe 15 on Tuesdays, about 17 on Wednesdays, perhaps 11 on Fridays and usually 10 on Saturdays. I'm supposed to get 10 a day. I'm lucky if I get 13 on each of those days during slow season, and Saturdays I fall short sometimes.

If this keeps up, it might be time to get familiar with cannibalism. But today picked up a good deal. I made 24 sales today, which I feel pretty good about. I barely had any time to call out today, so maybe I'm worrying over nothing. People are always going to need auto glass, right?

Fingers crossed.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #340: SALES WORK

 I used to believe that I was good at selling only things that I care about. That's why I try to stay away from sales jobs. There are few things I care enough about to successfully sell them.

The first time I worked in sales was at a group of local newspapers. They hired me to sell ad space. I'd done similar work in college for the campus literary magazine. How hard could it be for newspapers? It turned out to be a very different beast. In college you go for local businesses, and because they want college kids buying stuff at their stores it's a win-win to advertise with the lit mag. Selling to these people was easy. I found out very quickly that selling ad space for the magazines, in particular the ones directed at people wanting to stay in B&Bs across the country, was very difficult. People got mad at you for bothering them. I lasted two weeks at that job. But it had an advantage: my boss found out I wrote, and he offered to publish me in those newspapers. So that worked out pretty nicely.

My next sales job was at Drury Lane in Oakbrook. I sold season tickets to theater. That job went a lot better because I love plays. Added bonus: I got to see them all for free and enjoy the open bar after each one. Because I knew the plays--and liked them!--I could sell like crazy. One of the compliments I picked up was when my boss said he didn't want to hire me because men were lousy at this job. They rarely sold. I'd applied for the job, and he turned me down, but when I went back the second time he liked my tenacity and hired me. It turned out that I was the only man he ever hired who sold reliably. One week I even beat our top seller, which was damn near impossible because she was so good.

And then there's selling books. That gets me hard. Whether it's at a convention, a show or even Printers Row (which I sorely miss), I'm pretty good at selling books.

So imagine my surprise when I learned that I was good at selling auto glass. No one, and I mean NO ONE, cares about auto glass until they absolutely need it. They probably don't even give it a single thought otherwise. I've certainly never wondered about the state of, say, my windshield or even a vent glass. I'm surprised I got the job in the first place, and I thought I'd make my quotas, more or less, probably just enough to keep the job.

And then training ended. I got out on the floor. I sold like crazy. Six months after my date of hire, I was expected to make ten sales a day. Here I am in month two, and I'm routinely selling more than that. Sometimes a lot more. I've hit twenty a day a few times. My personal best, so far, is 24, and that happened today. My commission check is going to look fucking amazing. I can't wait.

And even better: this is the only job I've ever worked where the better I am at the job, the more I'm rewarded. Every other place proved that the better I was at it, the more miserable they'd make me. I remember working at places where they discontinued the annual bonus. Where they decided that if you get promoted, you don't get a raise. Things like that. And then the higher ups wonder why their employees despise them so much.

Here, after I sell a certain amount, my commissions go up another dollar . . . until the next mark, where they go up another dollar, and so on. The better I am, the more money I make. Not only that, but we don't have a vending machine at work. WE HAVE FREE SHIT. The bosses order an entire pallet of snacks and drinks every month, and they just give it to us for free. Among the drinks is the second greatest non-alcoholic beverage known to humanity (the first being Tang, naturally), Mexican Coke. They use real sugar instead of that horrid corn syrup. Sure, I have the 'Beetus, but there are some sacrifices I'm not ready to make. So yeah, not just free shit, but good shit. Happy employees work a lot better than miserable employees.

Plus I get the feeling that so long as I continue to sell above expectations, I suspect that they would be reluctant to get rid of me for any reason. I'm sure that if they found out about my books, they wouldn't care. If I turned out to be an asshole, they'd probably give consideration to determining what kind of asshole I was first. Don't get me wrong, if I raped someone they would get rid of me. But if it came out that I murdered someone, they'd probably ask why before thinking about getting rid of me.

I'm a little on edge every day, which isn't always the best feeling, but when I'm making those sales, it helps keep me hungry. I keep thinking about that commission check at the end of next month. Right now I'm looking at $1,000+, and I still have a few days to go.

If I get a second to breathe, or if I'm on an unending hold with an insurance company on a customer's behalf, I'll look at the leaderboard. I'm shocked at how well I'm doing. I think soon I'll be averaging 20 sales a day. But I look to the top of the list and wonder who the hell these people are who are making 64 sales a day, or even 45. Are they robots? Selling machines? How the hell do I get that good? Because I've gone most of my life without money. It would be very good to have a shit-ton right now before I get too old (or dead) to enjoy it.

I think they're eyeing me for a promotion already. I've been asked to serve as backup for another department. Judging from what I know about the company so far, that can only mean one thing.

Think about it this way: the more money I have, the more books I have. Not only that, but I can start affording real marketing for my own books . . . Planet Bruni, coming soon to a world near you.