THE SALESMAN
(1985)
Chocolate brown Cutlass Supreme,
Split bench like a living room sofa,
Drives like a dream.
Sweat from my back sinks into the seat,
Dripping in this humidity and heat.
Collar damp, tight as steel banding,
Cutting back on Bud
Would keep me from expanding.
Visitor parking full, of course … I see a spot
Over there by the loading dock.
Spot-check my catalog case,
No wasted space:
Those goofy, brown, logo scratch pads,
Tape samples, brochures, promo pens.
Check the Seiko, it’s twenty past ten,
Pocket the keys,
Straighten the tie in the rearview again.
Throw on the suitcoat, nothing to fear,
Man, as they say, it’s a steam bath out here.
Let’s go bang on another door.
My Staffords stick to the asphalt as
Semis barreling down 290 roar,
And planes coming into O’Hare
Thunder so loud they shake the air.
Question to self,
How cold can a cold call be
When the temperature is ninety-three?
I forgot to crack the windows.
Bronze nameplate: EDWARD SCHLIE, PA.
About my age, I’d venture to say,
With a beer gut I can sort of see,
And a crooked, pea green tie,
Smug behind his desk,
Cherry or maybe mahogany,
Littered with notes and promotional pens,
Manilla folders, and a sliver of smoke ascends
From a Winston 100 in an ashtray from the Sands.
A minute of small talk on the humidity.
Whaddya got, I’m swamped, can’t you see?
Low prices, great service,
And this Iron Grip tape.
Low prices.
Smoke streams out his mouth as he talks,
He’s a droner.
We’ve been with the same guy for years,
He plays golf with the owner.
Low prices.
Good-bye.
Four down, six to go.
Cold calls are killing me,
Surely and slow.
My tape samples must be
Melting in the trunk,
And speaking of the sun,
This solar calculator
Is a piece of junk.
I study my map
While the AC kicks in.
Nobody’s buying packaging today.
No commissions to be had
When you cold call all day.
I spot a pull-up pay phone,
Jets so loud I can barely hear the dial tone.
Donna needs me to quote some Bubble-Light,
And there’s a partition order to expedite.
The afternoon calls go down the same,
No one to pillage
In Elk Grove Village.
Got a quote request for die-cut boxes,
But we both know
The buyer was trying to brush me off
Without saying so.
Into the Audiovox “The Envoy” goes,
Warren knows all about rejection woes.
I didn’t have to come to Maui
To be treated like a jerk.
Heading to the office late on I-5,
On 5 at 5:05, feeling barely alive.
Got to submit the quote for that guy
And work on Monday’s map for a bit.
At least the seat and my collar are dry.
There’s that ice cream cone plant I never hit,
Dammit I’m going to give it a try.
Maybe I’ll catch the second shift foreman
In a weak moment and pigs will fly.
The buyer’s gone home for the day
But the plant manager’s still here, working away,
Jutting jaw like an ex-Marine,
Iciest stare I’ve ever seen.
Orders me to sit while he stands and explains
Their various packaging procedures and pains.
He’s short, and scarier than Mr. T — and loud.
I’m definitely feeling
Like two is a crowd.
I jot down some notes
On a scratch pad until
He asks me what I’m here to sell.
I don’t think he’s a low-prices guy:
Too tough.
So, I ask a couple questions and
Man, they use a lot of stuff.
I go into our service capabilities,
Sounding weak, disjointed and dense,
Hardly making the slightest sense.
Excruciating silence
As he sizes me up.
I’m dead.
Again.
Cats have nine lives, but
Only a packaging salesman
Bites the dust
Eleven times before dusk.
Here it comes. What’ll it be?
We’re happy with our current supplier, see?
If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it – don’t you agree?
I’ll call you for a quote when something comes up.
When will that be, in a few months, probably.
What was I thinking:
This place is gigantic
And right on the toll road.
He must get quotes
For packaging by the truckload.
Expressionless he bellows,
A guy your age cold calling
On Friday this late —
I think it’s commendable, I think it’s great.
He gives me an order right then and there
For five pallets of Iron Grip and I’m walking on air.
Doesn’t ask the price before I go,
He already knows it will be low.
It’s my biggest first order by a mile,
After ten “noes” in a row.
I’m dehydrated and beat, but I’m ready to rock it
Because there’s a massive P.O. in my suitcoat pocket.
Catalog case in back, keys in the ignition.
Can’t wait for a Bud
After this war of attrition.
Hope someone’s still at the ranch
To hear about my order
And the sizeable commission.
(2015)
The big man crumbled, but he felt all right
‘Cause the last thing he saw was the flashing red light.
I sure miss Warren.
The Caddy’s ride is sweet
But lacks the Cutlass sofa seat.
Should be in Bradenton now
Not scraping windshields
And slogging through snow
To tell my customers packaging stuff
They already know.
It was nice before computers,
When I knew more than buyers,
When they still needed
My price predictions, application tips, and fliers.
Windshield wipers are caked with snow.
Wonder if Eddie decided to show.
Is Eddie in, I’d like to say hi.
Heart attack?
When, how’s he doing, where’s he at?
Heart attack?
What do you mean, if he comes back?
My hands are shaking on the steering wheel.
He’s younger than me. Man, this is unreal.
Thank God for front wheel drive,
All the Cutlass and the Caprice did was slide.
I’m heading back to the ranch,
Not safe to drive.
Not safe to drive.
I’ll box up invoice copies
In case the mainframe eats my data alive,
Like it did back in ’05,
But first I need to find out
If Eddie will survive.
On 88, it’s blizzard conditions,
No good for chasing purchasing requisitions.
Weather wasn’t supposed to be this bad,
With all this technology,
Forecasting is still pretty sad.
I’m coming up on the cone plant, steady and slow,
What a great day that was, so long ago.
Walked out of a cold call with an order
For ten pallets of Golden Grip. …
… God, look at this snow. …
… Celebrated at Harner’s on the patio,
Tom and Michele and Beth, my future wife.
Must have been summer.
One of the best days of my life.
An impulse grips me, and I think, why not?
I exit and inch into a visitor slot.
I’m out of breath with snow up to my shins,
Can I speak to your packaging buyer,
Is that person in?
The receptionist looks up at me
With a face like barbed wire,
Determined to protect the current supplier.
Appointments only.
You know, back when linerboard
Was not to be found,
I kept your plant from shutting down.
Appointments only.
Can I leave her a note?
So much for my little anecdote.
I write the buyer a note on an old brown pad —
The luckiest giveaway I ever had.
I hoarded them, used to have a slew,
But now I’m down to a precious few.
I leave it for her, and a couple fliers, too.
Can you give her these?
She takes them like I’m spreading disease.
You’d think the receptionist
Would have some pity
On a guy this old
Calling cold
With a blizzard hitting the city.
As I trudge to my car
Fighting wind and snow,
It comes back to me,
An old, forgotten glow.
Yes,
I will win you over once more,
Because there’s always a way
To open the door.
(2025)
“Who are these people, Momma,
“Here on the wall?”
“That’s your grandmother Elizabeth,
“And your grandfather Paul.”
“Grandma looks exactly like you!”
“Someday you will look like us, too!”
“What about Grandpa,
“What was he like?”
“You two were inseparable
“When you were tyke.”
Momma bends down with her eyes turning red,
“He loved reading stories to you before bed.
“I remember how beautifully you used to sing
“Whenever he pushed you on the backyard swing.
“Now go play with your brother,
“Don’t do anything bad,”
So they drew dinosaurs for each other
On an old, brown scratch pad.
