Let's, for one moment, ignore the fact that this is certainly not the first time you've accosted me while I shop. Let's instead pretend that I've never tried to avoid eye contact with you as I hurriedly rush by, trying to feign interest in whatever items are available in the nearest store window.
Why are you asking me if I want to try your product? Now, I know it is not YOUR product. I know you are simply trying to pay the bills. Chances are you did not invent that miraculous flat-iron you have there. Nor did you manufacture it. Times are rough and I am sympathetic to your plight. You took an unsatisfactory job because it was a job. But look at my hair. Pray tell, what are you going to show me? My hair is stick straight. Why? Because I straightened it earlier today with my own flat-iron. If your job is to sell me on that flat-iron, what incredulous and persuasive results do you expect to get from the experience? Do you expect me to go for it? I don't understand. Are you even trying at your job anymore?
I don't blame you if you aren't.
Perhaps sales isn't your future.
Sincerely,
Concerned Patron
No comments:
Post a Comment