Salesmanship

When it comes to talent, salemanship is not one of mine. Would you buy something from me?

I can't remember ever really getting along with a salesperson. There's something about the task that just seems not right to me.

I'm told that you're expected to barter in many countries. I'd probably go broke and starve.

But I take after my Dad to that regard. My Dad is definitely not a salesman.

I always remember my Dad asking me, "What makes you think people want to hear your opinion? Just be quiet and listen to what everyone else says." That is something that stuck with me for my entire life. Listening - that was the much smarter thing to do. Let's see everyone elses cards, and we don't even have to show ours.

My father could not sell beer at a baseball game.

But during two events in life, miracuously, out of nowhere, my Dad becomes the best, most successful salesperson on the planet Earth - when there are dinner leftovers and ice cream.

My Dad would not throw food away. As soon as everyone had made big dents in their plates he was scouring the stove top and oven to see how much was still left behind. Grabbing a pot he would begin hawking, "C'mon there's just a little more corn here. I'll tell you what I'll make you a deal. You take half of these and I'll take have of these. C'mon let's finish this off."

You couldn't turn him down. He made sure that nothing went to waste. It's kind of amazing we were all pretty skinny.

Then there was the ice cream. My Dad is an official ice cream aficiando, a regular ice cream nut. As everyone groans from a big meal my Dad appears with the gallon container. "Who wants ice cream?" he asks.

"No. No. No room left," is the common reply.

"No room?" my Dad questions. "It's ice cream. It fills in the cracks."