I found inspiration for this week’s article in a conversation with my most capable administrative assistant. We were discussing what we had done over the weekend, and she said that she had participated in a Rainbow vacuum cleaner sales demonstration.
Immediately my thoughts went back to when I accompanied my sister Madeline (Pat to most everyone else) when she sold “Rainbows.” She used to ask me to go with her so she wouldn’t be out alone after dark in strange territory. No sweat—I always loved my sister—she’s one of the funniest people who ever lived, and if we were in the Claiborne County area, we almost always wound up at the Frostee Freeze. The food was pay enough for my giving up a weeknight or Saturday at home—I always took one of my books and sat in the corner quietly and read, so I had nothing to lose.
The first time I went with Madeline she visited the home of an elderly couple in Tazewell. It was easy to tell that these folks were rather prosperous, and if this was doubtful, they told us about a new house they were building nearby and where it was located. Turns out they weren’t just building a house—they were building a mansion!
I thought to myself, “Sis, you’re wasting your time. These people didn’t get to their present station in life by squandering money on junk like vacuum cleaners.”
I amusedly watched my sister demonstrate the product, showing these kind folks how much dirt was hidden in their obviously spotless home. I thought, “That’s a pretty good trick. Wonder how they taught her to smuggle dirt in people’s houses and make them think it was their own?”
Finally, my sister got to what turned out to be my favorite part: the end of the presentation and the start of the sales pitch. It went something like this: “Now that you’ve seen the amazing Rainbow I’m sure you can see how it would be an improvement over your present cleaning system of brooms, dustpans, mops, and dust cloths . . .” something to that effect.
When she told them the price I almost choked—the total cost was a substantial amount of my salary. I could have bought a million brooms, mops, dust cloths, and a maid to clean my house for what that thing cost!
I really almost lost it when without hesitation the couple bought the vacuum “cleaning system” (the power my sister wielded over these folks raised my estimation of both the product and her!).
Not only did they buy it—THEY PAID CASH! Then, most surprising of all, the man thanked both my sister and me and warmly shook our hands for coming into their home to give them this wonderful opportunity to spend their wealth on something I could see they had done well without. Had I been raised to be a more devious person, I would have returned that night and helped relieve them of a little more of their cash by foul means!
I went on many sales trips with my sister. And she went everywhere. It was truly an adventure when she would call and ask if I would ride with her. I recall once going with her to a trailer where she demonstrated the product to an absolutely gorgeous single redhead. She was really a sweet girl, too. I have to admit, I thoroughly enjoyed that visit, though I don’t think I read one word of the book I had brought with me.
The girl did not buy the vacuum cleaner and did not thank us profusely for demonstrating it to her, but she was nice in her turndown. In my opinion, I was more than paid for that trip by getting to gaze upon her dazzling beauty for a couple of hours. Let’s just say that Frostee Freeze was a good place to go after that visit.
There was another visit we made to a home in Middlesboro, Kentucky. This was indeed a most interesting house, the kind at which a small child might have been afraid to stop and ask the kind old lady for a glass of milk and a couple of cookies. (The child might have wound up in Granny’s oven!)
I remember thinking the dark, cluttered interior with its predominant focus on red velvet furnishings and decorations reminded me of a once dignified but now dilapidated funeral home. I looked around and would not have been surprised to see Morticia Adams come into the parlor at any moment. And for whatever reason we had to visit this house twice! I don’t remember why—I think perhaps the lady bought the machine but decided within three days that she didn’t want it, or perhaps Madeline forgot something.
Interestingly enough, the years have dimmed my vision of the lovely redhead. I wouldn’t know her if she walked through my office door right now. But if you blindfolded me and dropped me into the center of that red living room with its shag carpet I would know exactly where I was, though I could not take you to the location of the house. (I do, however, know the exact location of the redhead’s trailer, and think of her on the rare occasions that I have passed it throughout the years.)
There was an occasion that my sister visited a nice farm on a pretty Saturday afternoon. It was a very neat farm, not the type that made a person think of wealth but rather the satisfaction of the reward of hard work realized. The husband was not home, and that was inconvenient, for my sister was supposed to demonstrate the Rainbow to the couple in case the prospective client was married.
I suppose this was to prevent a man (or woman) from killing his wife (or husband) when s/he came in from a hard day’s work and found out how much of his hard-earned money had been spent on “frippery”. It turns out the husband was a minister at work on the farm, and his wife said he would be in “dreckly” (directly for the educated city folk). My sister took the risk and went into her demonstration.
The farmer/preacher came in about midway through the demonstration. He was rather curt, and sat over in the corner of the living room and watched for a while. Then he started asking questions, one about who I was and what did I get out of this business. He was for sure a hard sale, but such was my sister’s charm that another Rainbow was sold! I would have bet that man’s farm that he would never have stood for it, but as we left he said, “You know, I wouldn’t a bit happy you was coming here today. But now that you have, I thank God you did.”
It takes a special person to make a person thankful to God when you offer them the opportunity to part with their money, even if you’re standing in a church when you do it!
Life moved on for both my sister and me, and I got busier and she eventually gave up selling vacuum cleaners. She still works today at the WalMart at East Towne—she’s a door greeter. If you happen to go in and see a smiling lady with “PAT” on her nametag, you might want to tell her that someone you know said to call her “Madeline” (pronounce it MAD-uh-LENE).
I promised last week that this week’s article would be on encouraging others. I hope this article has in some way been an encouragement to you, but inspiration sometimes comes unexpectedly and has to be acted upon when it strikes. The encouragement article will be forthcoming, but next week I plan to share an old tale of a young boy and a peddler from long ago.
Until then, I leave you with a thought from my world of email:
Every time you clean something, you just make something else dirty.