“It’s a question that has vexed the finest human-shark hybrid minds of every generation, Percy, my friend — is there anything you shouldn’t eat?” Well, for one, there’s your shiny new junior sales associate trainee, unless you want to go back to carrying your own luggage. Once I got my VP to transfer me from phones into field sales, the world became my, well, prey, and my rapacious focus on deal-closing took me to a record quarter. Plus Finance could breathe a little easier, too.
So Ed (this was a while back, before I ate him) gave me Percy, viz., a promising new junior sales associate trainee, with instructions to train him up in the Secrets of My Success and also Not Eat Him. It hadn’t been hard, though, to fit not eating Percy into the larger sales philosophy I was constructing and on which I was now expounding.
“So listen close, Grasshopper, because I’m going to tell you about the two skills you need to develop to sell the ass off human-shark hybrid services, and Get Paid,” I said.
“…get paid,” Percy mumbled. His note-taking technique consisted of writing down every fucking word I say and mumbling to let me know when he’s done. It was kind of a passive-aggressive way for him to control the conversation, which I disapprove of on principle because as a shark I have more like an aggressive-aggressive approach to things. But in the first place I was concentrating really hard on Not Eating Him because in the second place I’d have to carry my own luggage, which takes me back to the core of the thing.
“Ri-ight,” I said, letting him know I was getting a little annoyed with the whole mumbling-notetaking thing. “Two skills. Number one, and super important, know who you have to eat.”
“…eat.”
“And number two, just as important but a lot harder to learn, know who you have to not eat,” I said, grinning a little, to put a little humor into it and also make sure he hasn’t maybe forgotten that he’s trapped in a small vehicle sitting next to a fucking shark.
“…not eat…” Percy mumbled.
“Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Perce,” I said, taking one hand off the wheel and rapping him sharply on the top of the head, “I am not in any way being metaphorical here. It is my experience that nearly all sales contacts can be put into one of those two buckets, although,” I grinned again, “the bucket holding the sales contacts you have to eat can be a lot smaller, since there’s not as much left of them, know what I mean?” I reflected a bit on my experiences of the last three months. “Like, there was this one guy who must have swallowed a bunch of ball bearings, fuck, I don’t know why. Biggest fucking surprise of my life, let me tell you.”
Percy was squeezing himself up against his car door, but being totally nonchalant about it so maybe I wouldn’t notice he was half shitting himself. God, I love my job. “Um, ah, Mr. Selacchi? Can I ask a question?”
“Sure, Perce. And, hey! Call me Bob.”
“Uh, sure, Bob.” Percy licked his lips. “I was just wondering? Don’t you ever worry about, I don’t know, getting into trouble, with all the people you eat?”
I shook my head firmly. “Not at all, Perce, but I’m glad you asked. Once you get the treatment, you’ll understand. For now, though, just let me say, sharks don’t worry about hardly fucking anything.”
“…fucking anything.”
Again, scritch-scratching away in the notebook. I gritted my teeth, a couple of them breaking loose and falling into my lap. “Let’s walk you through a couple of cases, Grasshopper. Say I’m making my first contact with a guy at a prospective company, first time I’ve talked to anyone at this company, and I’m not getting anywhere with the guy. He called us up, some reason, but now that we’re talking, he’s not interested anymore. What do you do?”
“…do?” he mumbled, his voice even rising at the end because he was mumbling a question. I snatched the notebook out of his hand and ate it. The metal spiral got stuck in my throat, so I reached in, pulled it out, and tossed back into his lap.
“We’re not writing a book here, Perce, and you’re not studying for a fucking test,” I said. “What do you do?”
“Umm,” he said, screwing his face up like he was thinking really hard. “I could eat him?”
“No, no, no,” I said, but not getting angry at all. “That’s an easy mistake, though, because that’s a very frustrating situation and a big waste of time. For you, first of all, you can’t eat the guy, because with those little pearly whites you could only like gnaw on the guy a little and totally piss him off, probably get arrested. For you, this is future stuff. But after the treatment, you still can’t eat the guy, as big a relief as would seem to be. Why is that?”
Percy’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know, Bob.”
“It’s the first time I’ve talked to anyone from the company, Grasshopper. If I eat him, it’s like I’ve written off the whole company because one guy pissed me off, which makes no fucking sense at all. It’s what a real shark might do, but that’s why we don’t hire real sharks in Field Sales. So, before I eat the guy, I try to put him at ease, get him talking about his situation, like I’m his friend and I’m here to help him. Fucker!” I shouted, running over some chick who was trying to cross the street. “Find out the name of his boss, other people in his department, other departments that might need some human-shark-hybrid services. Perce, I’m talking to you here!” Percy was turned around in his seat, looking back at the chick I’d just run over. “But there’s a right way and a wrong way to ask the question, you know? How would you ask about other departments, Percy? Pretend I’m the guy, and you’re trying to ask me about other departments.” You got to do the roleplaying things before the treatment, because afterwards you’ve got like zero ability to identify with the other guy.
“Um. So, Bob, what other departments in your company do you think might need some human-shark hybrid services?”
“Wrong!” I sing, swerving around another pedestrian, for Percy’s sake, so he won’t get distracted. “You say, who heads up your Collections department? Collections always wants to talk about human-shark hybrid services, believe me. That kind of seeds the conversation, let’s him know what you’re looking for. Gets the guy involved in helping you. Also, the longer he talks to you, the more he’s going to start to get scared of you, the more he’s going to want to do you favors so you won’t eat him. Don’t ever discount the importance of that,” I said, taking a left through speeding traffic into the parking lot. “A client who’s afraid you’re going to eat him is the best kind, because he’ll like do anything to keep you from, you know, eating him. One thing, though, and it’s absolutely crucial.” I pointed a finger at him so he knew I was serious. “Don’t threaten. Can you ever imagine me saying, ‘get me a purchase order or I’ll eat you?’ ”
“Um, well, kind of, Mr. Selacchi. To be honest.”
I shook my head. “Not my style, Percy. He’s going to know I might eat him from the moment we shake hands. I’m a predator, Perce, and predators don’t threaten. Prey threatens. And which do you want to be, Percy?”
Percy was silent for a little while, then he mumbled something so quietly I couldn’t hear him. “What’s that, Perce? I couldn’t hear you.”
“Predator,” he mumbled.
“I still couldn’t hear you, Percy!”
“Predator!” he said, just a little louder than normal.
“That’s how food talks, Percy!” I shouted, so loud the rear-view mirror shook. “If you want to be a predator, Percy, let me hear you roar like one!”
“Predator!” he squealed, as loud as he could.
I nodded admiringly. “That’s the fucking spirit, Perce!” I laughed. “OK, school’s out, let’s go sell some sharks. I’ll let you lead the conversation, but if it comes to eating anybody I’ll take care of it.” My stomach growled. “When it comes to eating anybody, right? Now, what are you going to be?”
“Predator!” he squealed again.
“Totally fucking adorable,” I said, pinching his cheek. “You’re so cute, I could just eat you up. Let’s go.”
