Baby Don't You Wanna Go To My Sweet Home Chicago?

Previously, Part 18: Nothing Can Come Between Us... (almost nothing)

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I went from landscape construction to showroom salesman for Pandora Industries with unexpected ease. I could pull a clothing group off the rack and make it pop on a rolling display screen as if I were born to do it. 

Despite my work situation improving, Susan and I were unhappy living in Jersey. We wanted to live in Florida, and when that didn't work out, we would've preferred to move back home to Massachusetts. Moving to Jersey was a huge compromise. I was used to compromise. I lived with my grandparents and slept on a folding couch for a year when I was 13. Compromise was nothing new to me, but it was to Susan, and I was miserable knowing I was the one responsible for introducing her to it. My father played a big part in it, but I let him do it. It was on me…

After a few months in the showroom, Sandy said I needed to learn how to sell the clothing line in stores, and there was no one better to show me the ropes than Mike Reid, the Chicago sales rep. They booked a flight to Chicago so I could spend a week with Mike. 

I got to know Mike in the New York showroom when he came into the city for sales meetings. He impressed the hell out of me with his cool charisma, and I immediately liked him. With all the natural-born bull-shitters on our sales force, Mike was a breath of fresh air, a man's man. I wanted to be like Mike.

If I had one critique of Mike, it was that he occasionally picked his nose out in the open; he didn't even try to hide it. No one called him on it or thought any less of him. He normalized it. That's how fucking cool he was!

Mike was in his mid-to-late 40s when I met him. He stood about five foot 8 and tipped the scales at around 185 lbs. He had short, straight, light brown hair, almost blonde, a prominent forehead, and he dressed casually. Kakis, an open-collared shirt under a V-neck sweater, and penny loafers. Most of the salesmen dressed for success, wearing expensive suits and trendy shoes. Mike had a bit of a gut, from good living and cold beer, I suspected. He also had incredible energy, and people liked feeding off it. I did. He always had a reassuring smile on his face, perfect for sales.

I felt horrible leaving Susan alone in New Jersey, but it was only for five days, and it was mandatory that all showroom trainees spend some time in the field with an experienced sales rep. Mike was top three in the company for sales, and I was glad they paired me with him.

Mike picked me up at O'Hare International and brought me to a motel. He told me to get a good night's sleep, tomorrow was gonna be a busy day. I was excited to watch Mike in action.

We stopped for coffee and muffins, eating breakfast while we drove to our first sales call at a medium-sized clothing store in the burbs.

When we got there, he parked around back, popped the trunk open, and started taking out blue garment bags and handing them to me by the tight bunch of hangers sticking out of the top. Then he took out a collapsible, chrome rolling rack, and we headed in, the whole time giving me pointers like, "Never leave your trunk open while you're carrying stuff in. Someone will steal your samples and then you'll be fucked!" Sounded like he was talking from experience, but I didn't ask.

When we were inside, the shop owners were happy to see him, and Mike used that good rapport, not high-pressure tactics, to make sales. Throughout the day, he received orders from everyone we encountered, and he did it effortlessly.

I spent a couple of days with Mike, but then he handed me off to his assistant, a guy who was more my age who handled the smaller mom and pop stores. He was five foot seven, thin, and pale-skinned with short curly black hair. I went with him and was totally unimpressed with his sales technique. He was nervous and stumbled through his presentations until it was uncomfortable to watch. 

The guy took me out on the town after hours, and he brought his girlfriend, who was a real spitfire. She was short, five two, with muscular legs, olive skin, dark hair and eyes. I didn't understand her attraction to him, but maybe he had money or was packin' something special for her. For whatever reason, she was all over him.

He wanted to go to a rock club, but I urged him to take me to a blues club instead. "I can go to a rock club anywhere. I'm in Chicago. I want to go to a real blues club!"

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The three of us spent half an hour listening to loud, deafening rock in the small club he chose until I yelled over the noise, "Let's get the fuck out of here and hit a blues club-"

From there, we went to a real Chicago Blues club, and it was fucking incredible. You don't listen to Blues like you do rock, you feel it. It's a mood. I had a company credit card and I was chasing shots of Drambuie with beer, buying rounds for him and his girlfriend, and enjoying every fucking second of it.

The next morning, I was up and raring to go. The guy arrived late and immediately started complaining about a hangover. We made a few sales calls, had a late lunch, and then he dropped me off at O'Hare.

I was calling Susan every night to make sure she was okay, and of course, she was more concerned about me. I called her from O'Hare to let her know I was boarding, and I'd let her know when I landed at LaGuardia.

It wasn't long after I got back that Sandy brought me in to his office to tell me Andy, the trainee before me, was taking over New York, a promotion to a more lucrative territory, and that I'd be taking over Jersey.

I met Andy in the showroom, and he looked like a six-foot-two version of Jerry Seinfeld, only in more expensive clothes. He was a native New Yorker and full of himself. When we shook hands, his were soft, and he was sporting a manicure. I wasn't impressed. I was told he broke all kinds of sales records in Jersey, that he was a "helluva salesman!"

We had to buy Susan a car because I'd be using the Monte to criss-cross New Jersey, selling clothes. Fortunately, it had a big trunk for all the samples and the collapsible rolling rack I'd be carrying…                                                                

The Blues will pull something out of your soul you didn't know you had…

To be continued…