I plugged hard all day,--and sold one sharpener! I started off soon after nine o'clock and made my first call on Jerry Mills, who was a certified public accountant. We knew each other very well, so I got right down to business when I went into his office, and said:

"Jerry, I want to sell you a pencil sharpener. It's a dandy, and I know you'll like it," and then I brought out the Cincinnati.

"Glad to see you, old man," replied Jerry, "but I've already got a pencil sharpener. I bought it in Chicago, when I was there some time ago. Very similar to yours, isn't it? Well, how's business?" and we then drifted into general talk.

I spent about half an hour with him; but, of course, as he already had a pencil sharpener, I couldn't sell him another one.

My next call was on Dunn, who ran a clothing store. I knew Dunn by sight, but I didn't think he knew me. I walked up the three flights and back to the rear of the building, and stopped in front of the railing of his office. I waited for two or three minutes, and then a boy came in and asked me what I wanted.

"I want to see Mr. Dunn," I said.

"What about?" asked the youngster, rather impudently.

"You tell him I'm--" and then I hesitated, and I said to myself that I wouldn't tell him I was Dawson Black. "Tell him that a salesman from Dawson Black wants to see him."

A minute or two later the boy returned. "Mr. Dunn says whatdeyuh want ter see him for?"

"Tell him I want to show him a new pencil sharpener that we have just got the agency for." I was a little bit exasperated.

The young demon grinned and said, "A'right," in a funny manner, marched into the private office and returned, it seemed without pausing, saying: "Nuttin' doin'."

I hesitated as to what to do, when he added:

"'Tain't no use. Boss got a grouch on this mornin'."

I remembered the rude reception I had given the Cincinnati pencil sharpener man when he called on me, and the way he had come back at me, and I said to myself that, if I could only see Dunn then I'd give him the same kind of medicine. While I stood there wondering what to do, my wish was gratified, for Dunn's door flew open, and out he came hurriedly. He was short, stout, red-faced man, almost bald, and has bristling red whiskers.

"Oh, Mr. Dunn!" I called.

He turned around and snapped:

"What do you want?"

"I am from Dawson Black's--"

"Oh, I know all about that. We don't want any pencil sharpeners. Didn't the boy tell you?"

"Yes, but--"

"Then what the devil are you waiting for?"

I gulped and replied, "Nothing." He turned and walked away.

Let me confess it. I was afraid of him! I hate to admit it, but I was. I went down the stairs, feeling like a naughty boy who had been spanked--and yet he was altogether in the wrong! That little experience gave me a lot of sympathy for traveling salesmen, and also made me realize that those salesmen who called on me were bigger men than I was.

And I realized that Dunn was a bigger man than I was, in spite of his rudeness. I could no more have answered his insolence, the way Downs answered mine, than I could have flown to the moon.

That reception knocked most of the heart out of me, and I wasn't very cheerful when I called on Blickens, the president of the bank. I picked him out because I figured that, at least, he would be civil to me.

When I told him what I had come for, he said:

"We have several of those around here, but--send one around." He put his hand in his pocket and pa.s.sed me a dollar bill. I thanked him and retired, but I knew in my heart that he didn't want one, and that he had given me the order just to get rid of me, without offending me or hurting my feelings, because I was a depositor in the bank. I felt like a panhandler.

And that was the result of my morning's work. It was getting along toward twelve o'clock, so I went home for lunch.

I made only two calls in the afternoon, both on people I knew. In each case they said they would be glad to buy one if it would help me, but really they--dash it all, I didn't want people to buy things of me just to help me! So I told them I didn't want them to have it, and I'm afraid I was very bad tempered.

When I got back to the store, La.r.s.en asked:

"Well, Boss, how did you make out?"

"Oh," I replied, "I haven't been very busy. I only sold one. But I haven't really worked very much. I've been kind of doing some visiting."

And I felt all the time that La.r.s.en knew I was lying to him, for I certainly did work hard, and I felt more nervously tired that night than I had been for a long while.

I told Betty about my experiences. "Poor boy! Never mind, boy dear," she said, "forget it now. Take off your shoes and I'll bring your slippers for you." She brought me my slippers and my old meerschaum pipe, which she had filled, and placed it between my teeth, and lit a match for me, and then sat on the floor beside me. It was fine to have a wife like Betty to buck me up! She certainly gave me back my self-respect.

Never again would I be rude to the fellow who called on me at my store.

I wish every store owner would try the work I did that day. I think there'd be more kindliness and courtesy in the relationship between buyer and salesman. Barlow was a kind-hearted man, but even he wasn't always courteous when he was busy or didn't want to talk to a salesman.

As I was leaving the house the next morning Betty asked me:

"Boy dear, did you read this little booklet?" It was the booklet which Downs had left me. I had forgotten all about it. Going down to the store, I glanced at it, and realized then, that my methods had all been wrong, and that probably I had been to blame for my failure the day before.

For instance, it said: "The name of the firm and of yourself are of secondary importance in selling the Cincinnati pencil sharpener. It is what it will do that counts. When calling on a prospect, don't say, 'Can I sell you a pencil sharpener?' but ask him to lend you a pencil and tell him you will show him how he can keep it pointed easily and make it last longer." And then it went on to explain how to demonstrate the device. "In brief," it said, "show the prospect how the sharpener works--for preference get him to sharpen a pencil for himself; and then, when he once sees how easily it operates, he is more than half sold.

Then talk about the price."

And I had done just the opposite! I first of all had told where I was from, then that I wanted to sell them a pencil sharpener, and I hadn't demonstrated it at all! I realized when I read the book that the trouble was that they had made up their minds not to buy before I had a chance of telling them what it was. I decided to try again, following the suggestions in the book and see if it worked any better.

One good point I learned from the book, which I put on the schedule for the next Monday's meeting, was that a salesman should always get the customer to see for himself how a thing works--that, when you get him to handle it, it helps to make the sale. Thinking of this reminded me of the time when Betty's kid sister had visited us. I had asked her if she would like to have a doll, and she had said yes, but she hadn't seemed particularly keen over it. Then I had pointed one out to her when we were pa.s.sing Riley's store--he ran a stationery store, and sold dolls, school supplies, and toys as well--and she had thought it was a nice doll, but I had had no difficulty in getting her to come to the office with me first. But later on, when I took her into Riley's and she had got a big doll in her arms, I couldn't take it away from her to get it wrapped up! No, sir-ree, she had just hung tight to her doll, and nothing could induce her to part with it, and she had carried it away without having it wrapped.

Now, that was interesting, wasn't it? When I had just spoken to her about the doll, her interest was only mild. When she had seen it her interest was a little stronger. But when she actually had got it into her hands her desire was uncontrollable. I could see how the same idea would work out in selling goods to customers. If we simply told them about the goods, there would be only a pa.s.sive interest. If we pointed the article out to them in the case, it might be stronger, but still not strong enough to make a sale. But if we put the article right into the customer's hands and told him to see for himself how it worked I could readily see how it was going to make the desire to buy much greater than anything else could.

I remembered, too, how Weissman, one of our neighbors, had been talking for a long, long time about buying an automobile, but had never reached the point of actually paying out the money for it. Well, a friend took him out in a car one day and showed him how to drive it, and Weissman came back so keen about having a car that he ordered one the same day, with instructions to have it shipped rush!

We'll adopt that idea as a rule at our next Monday night's meeting.

A day or two later, I again tried my hand at selling pencil sharpeners--and I sold five! The fellow that wrote that little book on how to sell Cincinnati pencil sharpeners had known what he was talking about, all right.

The first man I struck was Blenkhorn, who ran the meat market. He was considered the meanest man in town. I had make up my mind to start with a good, tough customer, because I wanted to give the new plan a thorough test, and I felt that if I could sell to a tough one I could sell to anybody. Well, the toughest customer I could think of was Blenkhorn, so I started on him. You see, I had my courage back.

Well, I went into his store. Blenkhorn nodded to me. "h.e.l.lo, Black," he said.

"h.e.l.lo, Mr. Blenkhorn," I returned. "How many pencils do you use in a year here?"

"Pencils? I don't know, I'm sure, but I think my people eat 'em. I'm everlastingly buying 'em."

"Suppose I could tell you a way to make them last about twice as long."

"H'm! If you can tell me how to make these people more careful with pencils, I'll be mighty glad to know it."