Awe pooooor Tom! When you read the story you will understand why I am saying that! This story does not sound like fun, but I am seeing that this is a fun subject. I am sure there are some pretty crazy stories floating around out there and we would love to hear them. :)  We are happy Tom made it out of this in one peice….

The Strangest Place I Ever Made A Sale

The title of this blurb is actually not quite accurate, but after you read the story, you will understand that maybe it is best to leave as is in this case!

I was a road warrior for Nike between 1984 and 1992.  I covered Dallas and east Texas as well as the southern portion of the state by the border between Mexico and the US. I called on every account in the region, ranging at the time from a large regional athletic specialty chain, and one of the Dillard’s regional buying offices, to the other end of the spectrum being every small mom and pop operation in known to man.  It is at one of these small mom and pop locations that my story took life.

Being a true road warrior, my lunch that day was picked up at the drive thru window of a Burger King on my way to Waxahachie, Texas, located about 45 miles south of Dallas.  When you are covering a sales territory by car and spending hours driving between appointments, eating and driving becomes a natural way of life. The sign of a true pro is one who will not be concerned about eating a messy meal while driving to appointments because existing within is a tremendous feeling of confidence and almost arrogance that the meal will not end up in your lap.  All it takes is the skill of driving with either one hand and eating with the other, or occasionally—and this is what really separates the pros from the amateurs—driving with two knees on the wheel so you can use both hands to eat an extra messy item.

Having performed this feat more times than I could count, I accomplished the task that day with the usual aplomb, although such successes are rarely appreciated by the everyday world.  Sometimes we have to learn that a few accomplishments are treasures we get to keep for ourselves, despite the resourceful and spectacular skills required to achieve them.

I arrived at my appointment, Sport Shop, to meet with Linda and Andrea at the scheduled time.  Sport Shop was your typical smaller town sporting goods store, located in a strip center with a grocery store as the anchor and various other retail venues to round out the shopping experience.  The store was probably a thousand square feet at the max with enough inventory to comfortably fill up a 747 jet.  How they ever found anything in the store was amazing to me, but then again, they would probably have been amazed with my eating and driving skills.  We all hopefully find those special talents which make us unique and then are able to somehow contribute to society.

The footwear samples were loaded in my car as usual.  I had probably 7-8 bags full of Nike shoes, with each bag being three feet long, a foot tall, and 12-18 inches wide when stuffed to full, which was always the case.  I knew exactly what categories and styles were in each bag, and I only pulled out the bags which the customer would need to see.  

As was out usual working arrangement, I would unload the bags and set up in the back of the shop, being careful as I walked down the isles as to not knock any merchandise off of the shelves.  Of course, I could not just bring in one bag in each hand.  No, no, no.  I had to minimize my trips to the car by maximizing my load with each trip to the car.  I wish I could say that was the sign of a pro as well, but it was really just me wanting to stay inside as much as possible and avoid the hot summers in Texas.

I ended up with five or six shoe bags and my briefcase in the back of the store just behind a glass window in a little cubby hole with just enough room to fit a small couch, a couple of fold-up chairs, and a small coffee table.  Yes, this was the place where the magic would spring to life between everyday normal people like Linda, Andrea, and me.

I started going through the presentation one bag at a time, my buyers sitting across from me with catalogs in their laps, pens in their hands, and the coffee table between us acting as my stage. With each shoe exposed to the eager eyes of my buyers, the comments could range from hail marys to the gutter mouth of the devil. These ladies were not shy about their opinions, and it always made for fun debates.

I recall at some point early in my presentation that I wasn’t feeling quite right.  However, I continued along with the presentation which I had already done at least in part 40-50 times for the season.  It was probably about half way through that I noticed I really was not feeling very well.  I remember making some comment to the Linda and Andrea as such and they responded that I was looking a little pale.  Ah, but just a flesh wound, right?

By the time I reached the last two bags, both filled with children’s and infants shoes, I knew this was not just a passing storm within. I finally told them that I was really feeling poor, and would they excuse me for a second while I went into their bathroom. Of course, they agreed such was a good idea, since they could see what I could not—one really white face rapidly losing whatever semblance of life that had previously existed in my features.

Remember, this was a very small store, so the bathroom door was located maybe five feet from the couch on which I sat along the same wall which was shared by the couch. I walked into the bathroom, a typical small town employee only bathroom, diminutive and with very little decorating having been done within the past 100 years.  I saw beneath the stand alone sink a mopping bucket, and decided maybe I should sit on the bucket in front of the porcelain alter until I started to feel better.  Linda and Andrea remained in the “buying room” with nothing but a wooden bathroom door separating the ten feet between us.

My internal grief did not subside but instead worsened.  There apparently was more in that burger than I had bargained for, and it was getting restless in my stomach.  I tried.  I really, really tried to keep it in, but mother nature would have none of it. The burger and some other contents of my stomach finally reversed the direction from which they entered my system, and of course, I am sure it sounded like a death was about to take place from where my buyers were sitting.  After a couple of duplications of the initial course of action, I actually felt better.  I washed up, looked at my face in the mirror, and decided I could finish the darn appointment.

Linda and Andrea were very understanding and gracious, and were completely content with me packing my shoes and heading to my next victim. But noooooooooo, I had a job to finish, and nothing was about to stop me from my goal.  We went through most of the remaining children’s shoes in the two bags, and as if to remind me that I am no match for the wonders of science, the rumblings began to once again take place in my stomach.  By mutual agreement, we decided perhaps it was best to end the show a little early and not bother with the final details. However, as I took the shoe bags back out to the car and into the hot sun, I realized that time was short and I really needed to return my mopping bucket in the bathroom.  I did so without much argument from my hostesses.

I don’t know how much more time I spent in the bathroom. I repeated the same activities as I had undertaken earlier, and when I felt like everything was finally out of my system, I came out of the bathroom with little dignity and even less in my stomach.  It was time for the pale rider to move on, and without shaking hands, we said our goodbyes.

The forty five minute drive took me an hour and a half to get home.    It was a miserable ride with me keeping a vigilance of the oncoming exits from the highway just in case the mood started to awaken from within. I stopped at probably three or four gas stations along the way to clear the hatches of all potentially hazardous materials.

I recall walking through the front door of my house, seeing my wife sitting on the couch and with a horrified look on her face and with a world of concern on her face asking me if I was feeling ok. I went straight to bed, got some TLC, and miraculously recovered in a couple of days from my rather pathetic condition.

To this day my wife cannot contain her laughter when we recount the story. I also shared many chuckles with Linda and Andrea, who provided the final ending to the story the next time we met when they told me that upon entering the bathroom after I left they saw the mopping bucket still in front of the commode, upside down, ready to provide comfort and act as a seat for the ailing. If I were to see them tomorrow, I am sure we would have a fun time remembering the most difficult sale I ever made.

-Tom Cassidy