See, unlike a lot of people who travel for their jobs, I never go first class. Even when I get an upgrade -- I fly enough, so they do come my way -- I have to turn them down, because I’m staff, and it isn’t seemly to have staff flying first class. Mary had explained it to me many times. Even when it doesn’t cost the company any more than a coach ticket, it gives people ideas. Ideas you don’t want people to have. What if a client should see me? What would they think the company was spending their money on? The only person from the company who ever got to accept those upgrades was, guess who? Mary Walton. Because Mary was the president of the company, and only company presidents and other similar titans get to ride in first class, where people drink their liquids out of little glasses instead of little plastic cups.
Whatever. Hopefully, this plane ride was part of the process that was going to get me out of that damn company and its crazy rules that must be obeyed in order to maximize productivity. But as I made my way into the coach cabin and found my seat, I was dismayed to find that my discomfort was not yet at an end. My neighbor, evidently for the next three hours, was one of those “hey, isn’t it interesting the people you can meet on an airplane?” people.
You know the type I mean. He’s the first one on the plane and he’s saying “Hi there!” before you’ve even fastened your seat belt. He’s usually a salesman of one kind or another, these guys -- a thirty-something-year-old balding salesman wearing a baseball cap to cover up his thinning hair. The logo on the ball cap is usually a sports team, but sometimes you’ll see a fly fishing destination he visited on some incentive program, or symbol you don’t even recognize -- something emblematic of the secret brotherhood that forces him to shake every hand and speak to every stranger. Your role in the war novel that is his life is similar to that of cannon fodder -- you’re there so he can practice his gift of gab. He cares about you about as much as a cigar-chomping general safe behind the lines. You are simply a means to his larger end. Talking to you helps loosen him up before he has to get off the plane and go close an actual deal.
This one at least had a fresh opening line. As sales practice went, the opening line ranked in importance only behind the ask.
“Hey, wasn’t that Taylor Howard up in first class?”
I like shutting these guys down, but I had no idea how easy this one was going to be. I just responded instinctively, saying what I would have said if my mother had asked me the same question.
“I don’t know who Taylor Howard is.”
Balding sales guy looked at me strangely, as if I was speaking Japanese and he had to reorient and figure out what frackin city he was in. He would've said “frackin,” too, I knew. It was good-natured, a code word shared between close friends, and anything stronger could risk a business relationship. After a long pause that was surely more uncomfortable for him than it was for me, he slowly explained to me that Taylor Howard was a pitcher for the local baseball team and, evidently, given the reverence in his voice, a very big deal.
“Oh,” I said.
Then I fished a book out of my briefcase. As I did so, I made sure he had an opportunity to see the cover before I buried my nose in it. I wondered only momentarily if he even knew who Sinclair Lewis was.
And that was it. I’d pulled the rug out from under him, pissing all over his typically reliable common ground. He wouldn’t bother practicing on me. I wasn’t buying what he was selling and he knew it.
A few minutes later my eye strayed over while he was playing with his Blackberry—getting a few quick texts out before they closed the boarding door.
YA YA DUDE! GUESS WHO'S SITTING NEXT TO TAYLOR HOWARD ON THE PLANE!!!
Not you, you lying dork.
+ + +
“Dragons” is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. For more information, go here.
This post first appeared on Eric Lanke's blog, an association executive and author. You can follow him on Twitter @ericlanke or contact him at eric.lanke@gmail.com.
Image Source
http://lres.com/heres-why-amcs-need-to-pay-close-attention-to-looming-regulatory-changes/businessman-in-the-middle-of-a-labyrinth/
No comments:
Post a Comment