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A young man thinks of what his lifetime occupation will be. He dreams of a career that will be financially and spiritually rewarding. Some people even find something close to that. Many will pick one job and stick with it a lifetime, retiring with a watch or a certificate and go fishing. Others will move from one field to another, always searching. Maybe it’s just Gypsy blood in us, because I’ve tried more than one field, although newspaper work was always foremost. When I was young, I answered a comic book
advertisement to sell Cloverine Salve.
Each 25-cent white can came with a religious picture.
Most of my customers were relatives who were just being kind. But writing and photography was what I loved
most and worked in the news end of papers.
I wrote stories and took pictures.
Someone else sold the advertising, which was the lifeblood of the
paper. I was sports editor
of the Sanford, NC, Daily Herald, and Saturday I was the managing editor
so the editor could have the day off.
I learned a lot. When newspaper chain publisher Chester Martin at
Hamlet, NC, offered me the chance to run my own paper, I liked the idea.
He had one at Lumberton, NC, and one at Camden, NC.
Both had been temporarily shut down.
Camden was a beautiful town, and besides the office was more
attractive. Knowing I had
to have a salesman, I asked a salesman from the Herald to go with me as
a partner. He would sell
the ads and I would put the paper together.
Only problem was he thought he could sit in the office with his
feet on the desk and sell advertising.
He didn’t last long. With necessity banging on the door, I tried
selling the ads myself. Sell
somebody food or a car or a suit of clothes and they get something they
see and can use, something they can put their hands on.
Selling advertising was selling an idea.
You have to convince the customer you will be selling his
products through ads. You
are selling an idea, a dream. I
believed in my newspaper paper and found that I could sell ads.
It was probably a mistake because it’s hard to wear two hats at
the same time and the rest of my life I would bounce back and forth from
the literary side to the sales side. Sales seemed to be like playing chess.
If you make a move or say something, you have to anticipate the
response and how you will react. Once when I was general manager of the
Paraglide, Fort Bragg’s 82nd Airborne newspaper, I made my sales pitch
to the advertising manager of the Fayetteville J.C. Penney store.
Any salesman will tell you that a customer who agrees or even
argues with you is a good prospect.
The customer who says nothing, gives no inclination of which way
he is think, is the tough cookie. The
J.C. Penney was most interested in my sales pitching, asking the right
question about circulation, market, etc.
I thought I had him. “Pete, that was one of the best sales pitches
I ever heard,” he said, “but I’m not buying.
I’m over budget now. I
just wanted to hear your presentation.
Every salesman learns something from another.” A few years later I thought I would try my hand
at selling Encyclopaedia Britannica on the side.
I found I was a novice at sales.
They had a sales pitch down to a science. The drop. The
take away. In those days,
salesmen were urged to tell the customer whatever sounded good. “I just flew in from Chicago to bring you this
information.” “Tonight
is the only time I can make you this special offer.”
“The price will be double or more later on if you don’t take
advantage of it now.” Of
course that changed when the FTC got on them. Britannica's were easy to sell for me.
I believed in them, that they were the best reference library
available. Once I sold a
set to a couple for their unborn child, the idea that it would provide
an education for him or her. It
was fun and profitable, but it wasn’t writing.
It wasn’t newspapering. Selling is a tension business and it’s
understandable that many salesmen become alcoholics.
A friend was one of Fairchild Instruments top men. He also became an alcoholic.
They sent him to several treatment centers to dry out.
It didn’t work and they parted company. When you make a sale, the world explodes with fireworks. When you lose the sale, the bottom drops out. From elation to depression. Ask any salesman. Nothing happens until a sale is made.
Then, something is happening every day.
We are all salesmen or saleswomen of sorts.
A man sells his sweetheart on his virtues.
A politician sells the voters on his worth.
The President sells Congress on his programs. Sales is said to be highest paying job in the
world. A good salesmen
doesn’t want a salary, just commission.
And he’ll earn every penny of it.
Ulcers. Gray hair.
Shot nerves. It’s
a tension business, but it's fun. -30-
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