Viewing 1 - 8 out of 8 Columns.

 

 

Some days it would be more accurate to say that I am a detective, counselor, spiritual guide, actor, friend or laborer than a salesman. I share joys and defeats with people, the good, the bad and the ugly. At times it takes being a detective to even find where a person lives. Other times I serve as counselor, listening to a person talk about a loss, maybe the death of a spouse I’ve met before. In this case I’m just plain making friends with two beautiful sisters. You see, I'm in the business of making money by building relationships. That’s my work.

 

Oroville, California. It’s early fall and things are dying off, although I’m not sure things only die off here in the fall. It seems to be the norm year round. It’s still very warm. I'm driving to my next sales call, “Harriet and Margaret,” two sisters aged 79 and 81years old. It’s my first time meeting them. (Future meetings will prove to be as interesting.) The skies are blue and the streets dirty, a contrast that’s common in this area: beauty and ugliness all wrapped up into one. I round the corner looking for the address—let’s see…even on the right, odd on the left. I’m looking for odd. Shoot, I must have passed it. A quick U-turn and I'm back on track. There it is. Looks like a duplex—great! I love these modest homes. Friendly, welcoming people often live in them.

 

Knock-knock-knock!! A woman answers. “Hello Harriett?” “No, I’m Margaret. Do you need Harriett?” “Well, no. I’m actually here to see you both. I received this card in the mail and wanted to stop by and explain it to you, and also see if you qualify.” I can tell by the big smile and the look on her face that she recalls the card and is eager to hear what I have to say. “Come on in,” she says. I ask if there’s a table we can sit at, then follow Margaret to the kitchen table. I introduce myself to her and her sister, Harriett. Looking around I see a picture of ‘The Last Supper,’ a velvet picture of Elvis, a display of mini-spoons on the wall and a fridge covered in magnets. The place is untidy, dark and very dusty with cobwebs. Stale cigarette smoke lingers in the air, so much that the smell has permanently soaked into the walls and drapes. These are all positives because, in my business, I cater to people that have simple tastes, modest lives and limited means. They’re my people, working people for whom things don’t come easy to. I love these people--it’s where I’m from. I understand them and they understand me.

 

“Would you like something to drink?” one of them asks. “Sure…do you have some water?” I dread their asking if I want anything else. I have no idea how long a pot of coffee has been left sitting, or how long it’s been since the pot, or cups, have been washed. Water is usually the safest bet. Harriet has her face no more than an inch or two from mine and looks into my eyes, with a BIG smile. “Howa ‘bout a cookie?” she pipes in.  “Yes, please. That would be wonderful,” I say, remembering one of the cardinal rules in sales: DON’T EVER TURN DOWN ANYTHING OFFERED BY A POTENTIAL CUSTOMER. This can be one of the easiest rules to break, even accidentally. However, I try not to because I don’t want it to seam like a personal thing. If I turn down what people offer me, I'm somehow saying that I don’t like them, and I don’t want to give that message. So I happily eat the hard, tasteless cookie, drink some of Oroville’s finest drinking water and continue my pitch. Harriett hangs onto every syllable, looking at her sister occasionally to make comments. “He sure has a nice face.” I look at them and drop one of my favorite lines, ”You know, if I was just 20 years older and you were just 20 years younger, well…” and flash a big grin. She blushes and I know I’ve made a new friend and, quite possibly, a new customer. I finish the sales presentation and intuitively know I’ve made the sale. The sisters are completely enamored with me. I could be selling a bottle of dirt and they’d be buying it—that, I’m sure of!

 

As I finish the paperwork, I ask about the velvet artwork on the wall, as an Elvis fan and all. They chat about the display of tiny spoons hanging on the wall, all from different places they’ve visited over their lives. Each one is decorated with the logo of a town or city they’ve been. I see these a lot with people of that era. Each spoon comes with its own story. (I get a new one every time I visit these ladies). I don’t look forward to the day I bring one of the sisters a check of the other’s benefits for the plan they’ve just purchased.

 

I get up to leave and wait for one of them to show me out. Harriett, looking at her sister, gestures for me to lead the way, “You go right ahead.” With the two sisters in tow, I overhear Harriet say to Margaret, “Look at that butt. Isn’t it nice?” Just about that time, I feel one of them grab a handful. I whip my head around just in time to see Harriett flash the biggest grin I’ve seen thus far. I wonder how it would be if the roles were reversed--two older men grabbing the behind of a young sales woman? I somehow don’t think it would be okay, but it doesn’t bother me a bit. As I leave, they plant themselves just outside the front door, still following my every move with their eyes, and grins. They continue as I climb into my car and as I drive away, I can see them through my rear view mirror standing on the porch watching me as I round the corner out of sight. I’m glad we  all got something out of that visit. They’re happy and so am I!

 

This normally would be the end of the story, however, I’ve been back to see these wonderful ladies—now 84 and 86 years old--on a yearly basis. It is now part of our tradition that I lead them to the door. It’s fun that they seem to get so much joy out of this little ritual, but…I have yet to reciprocate.

 

The Hankster Meets A Gangster

Hi, it’s me Henry. I’m a door-to-door salesman and this happened one day while I was out making a sales call. It’s 10:00 a.m. and already getting hot out. I should tint these windows, I think as I rummage through the lead cards looking for my first call of the day. ‘Joseph and Mary’ the card reads, a couple living outside Eagle Point. The noise of the tires is prominent through the floor of the Taurus, as is the wind noise through one of the rear windows. Someone tried to break in to my car one night and that window has never quite been the same. I feel a bit nervous, as I often do first thing in the morning. Why am I doing this? I often think about my love-hate relationship with this work. I should get a regular 9 to 5 and stop this madness. I’d be happier if I just punched a clock and didn’t have to think. At that moment I remember that I did do that kind of work for 25 years and don’t care to go back to that either.

I start to shuffle around with the map and see that I’m getting closer. Why do they keep making this print smaller and smaller? Where are those glasses? I shuffle with the map a bit more. Jesus, why don’t people put their addresses on the mailbox or at the beginning of the driveway? What if they had a fire? Their home would goup in flames while the fire department was still looking for the place!

I turn in at #1545 and pull up the long dirt driveway,dodging potholes for about a half a mile until I see the home, a long single-wide lime green trailer with white trim. There’s tin foil on the windows facing the sun, it’s somewhat dilapidated. Off to one side there’s a camp trailer that’s at least 30 years old. Great! These are my kind of people--simple, no-frills, working people. I think I’m going to like my first call.

Knock–Knock-Knock!! I can see Mary through the large gap where the door should be. In its place stands a slab of wood that doesn’t quite fit the space it’s intended for. “WHO IS IT!” I hear her demand, more a statement than a question. “Ma’am,I’m Hank and I’ve stopped by in regards to this card you sent in requesting information. I was in your neighborhood and wanted to swing by to explain it to you, to see if you qualify.” “WHAAAT? WHO?” This time it’s a man and he sounds even less patient than Mary. “It’s Hank and I’m here to talk to you about this card you sent in.” “We didn’t send any cards in anywhere!” I hear from the other side of the makeshift door. “Well, it’s got your handwriting and personal mailing label on it.” “Shut up, Joe!” I hear Mary say, then the click-clank-click of different locks and latches being turned. It sounds a bit like Fort Knox.

The door swings open and my eyes land upon Mary’s deeply wrinkled face. Hard times have carved their way in, telling a story I understand the moment I see her. I can tell she’s a tough woman. I give her a smile and have only a few seconds to make this work. In my business, this is where the relationship starts. “Hello… Mary? Can I use your first name?” “Yes,it’s my name. You may as well use it.” “Well, I’m still Hank,” I say as I step inside, trying to add a little humor; Mary doesn’t laugh. My eyes immediately start the job of picking out details around the home--family photos, art or a collection--anything that I can comment on in a positive way, to break the ice.

“Wow, that’s an amazing Elvis collection you have there!” It’s a pretty common thing for people of her era to collect. I can also make a pretty good guess that it belongs to her; Joe doesn’t look like the Elvis type. “Thanks,” Mary says,warming up to me slightly. “I’ve been collecting him for years.” I notice Mr.Wonderful behind her, holding a can of Bud. I look at my watch and it reads just past 10:00 a.m. My mind jumps ahead as I try to figure out which of the two is the decision-maker. After observing them interact for a moment, my intuitiveness tells me that he will do what she says. I must sell her and then let her sell him, if need be. And so I start, “Where can we sit? A kitchen table?” Always best to go to the kitchen table or a desk, that’s where people make decisions, never the couch.

“We aren’t buying anything!!” Joe barks. “Well, that’s perfect because I'm not selling anything. I’m only here to give you information.” “We can sit outside on the porch.” I see a small table and four worn out plastic chairs. Joe is clearly giving me the message that he’s not buying. Not a good sign. Little does he know, though, that I’ve made sales on the hood of cars, in parking lots and even in the video section of a Ray’sMarket. We all sit down. I begin the sales pitch, hitting all the high points and making sure my voice fluctuates at all the right times, while also monitoring if they are paying attention to me. Mary is leaning towards me, a good indicator that she’s interested. Joe, on the other hand, is sitting with arms folded and a clinched look on his very red face. About halfway through my pitch, Joe gets up and walks abruptly into the house. I stop and look at Mary.She says nothing. What? Did he not like what I was saying? Did I make him mad?

I’m a bit dumbfounded and wonder whether I should continue.I’d decided earlier that if I could sell Mary, she could sell her husband so…I continue. When I’m about three-quarters of the way through, out walks Joe. In his hand is a 7.5” long barrel, stainless steel 45 revolver, like the one ClintEastwood uses in Dirty Harry. Is this guy nuts? He says nothing, sits down and looks me in the eye. He has a can ofbeer in one hand, gun in other. He lays the gun down on the table, barrel end pointing my way, and I can see the lead of the bullets through the holes at the end of the cylinder. Think fast and don’t look nervous. Without saying anything, I pick up the gun, flop the cylinder open, take all six bullets out and set the gun back down. I mumble something like “Hope you don’t mind” and continue with my sales presentation,not skipping a beat. Although my heart is racing and my mind spinning, I do the only thing I know how to do and that’s to keep selling what I’m there to sell.

Again, Joe stands up, giving me a glare. He grabs the gun and the beer, and walks back into the house. Holy Cannoli, now what? Should I get out of here while I still can? No! I refuse to let this guy intimidate me! Not the brightest thing I’ve ever done but, at this point, all I can focus on is getting the sale. It’s in my bones to sell the stuff, and sometimes the drive ends up taking over. I have no choice but to stay!

A few minutes later Joe returns with the beer and the gun;he’s reloaded it. I can see the bullets in the revolving chamber as he sets the gun back on the table. I choose continue and ignore the gun, as I finish up my sales pitch. Joe looks over at his wife and says, “I LIKE him. Most of them are gone by now!” This guy is plum crazy or drunk. Either way, it’s not good. I ask Joe,“Are we going to shoot that thing or what?” He looks at me with glossy eyes,a twisted smile and nods. In some strange way, I can tell that Joe has come to like me, and that I’ve earned his respect.

The guy living in the small trailer comes over, looking like he’s just rolled out from under a rock. “That’s Charlie,” Mary says. Joe grabs another Bud, and one for Charlie, and the two wander off. I finish the sell with Mary. BOOM!-BOOM!-BOOM! I jump three feet out of my chair. That’s the loudest darn thing I've ever heard! Holy moley, that scared the bajeezus out of me!!! “Ha! He gottcha!” Mary says. My heart pounds as I get up, walk over to Joe--who is reloading--and put out my hand. “My turn,” I say.He points to something way out in the field that looks like an old tractor or the frame of a rusted out truck. “See that black thing down there?” “Uh-huh.”“See if you can hit it.” I raise the nearly foot long mini cannon, take aim and BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!!! I unload the chamber, hitting the target 1 or 2 times, and hand the gun back to Joe. He looks at me with newfound admiration. I look at him with newfound concern. Sure hope he finds a 12-Step program before someone gets hurt.

I ask him to wait until I get all the way out of the driveway before shooting the gun again. He says something and, as I watch his mouth move, all I can hear is this loud, mad ringing. Let’s hope he’s agreeing because I’m not sure I trust his aim as I drive out. I say goodbye and drive off as fast as I can. At the end of the driveway, I look at myself in the mirror and think, I’m not sure which one of us is more crazy--him for getting the gun out, or me for staying and pushing through to make the deal!

I visit Joseph and Mary one additional time and it’s equally as exciting. I’m a die-hard salesman but, in the end, I decide that my life is worth more than the sale…but that’s another story.

                                   Asian Grill

                                                                                               “A restaurant review”

 

My Wife Mrs.Valerie and 9 year old daughter Mikayla joined in this review with me at theAsian Grill in Medford Or. Across from Bi-Mart, Off Biddle road and McAndrews.

 

On a scale of 1 wink to 10 winks I would give this restaurant 8 winks and I will also add that I can be a very critical reviewer so in my book these are high marks and I gave it this rating for the following.

 

We were greeted by six Chinese watercolors on rice paper as we entered the building; upon approaching the ordering counter Valerie inquired about the Artist the server was very helpful in gathering information and very open and engaging.

 

 The restaurant was not busy for a Saturday evening and seemed a bit dark, however it had a warm feel to it and the music playing was Billie Holiday “them there eyes”, All the employees were genuinely happy and cheerful.

 

 I especially liked the open kitchen, “I like seeing “WHO” and in some cases “WHAT” is cooking my food. This also made it easy to engage the chef when inquiring about the sauces and ingrediences (my wife wanting specifics to accommodate her diet). We ordered three dishes, the first being the Special  @ $9.95the “Red seafood curry” consisted of Mahi, Cod, black tiger prawns, w/ sweet red peppers and snow peas & red curry.

 This dish came with choices of jasmine or brown rice (a plus because I don’t often find brown rice available as an option) however… I ordered jasmine rice.

 

 Mrs. Valerie had the stir-fry W/ blackbean sauce, onion, mushroom, red pepper, snow peas and eggplant this comes with steam veggies and brown rice, also $9.95.

 

Mikayla Ordered the chicken teriyaki w/ brown rice & steam veggies @ $8.95 the total cost for all three dishes 28.85. A reasonable cost for our family (a lot less than the moviewere about to go see after dinner.)

 

The service was superb and from the time we ordered to the time it made it to the table was eight minutes “now that’s my kind of service” the food arrived Hot, fast and with a smile and we all liked the dishes we ordered, they were very flavorful,not overbearing.

 

From mikayla’s perspective she liked the self-serve soda bar “because she likes mixing severalkinds of pop together for an interesting cocktail.” She also likes booth seating and for this strong-minded “not so easy to please “in the food department” she enjoyed the food, and even some of mine. She also gives it 8 winks, for you young ones reading this.

 

Except for a stray flying piece,of what appeared to be rice, the other patrons in the restaurant were quiet and pleasant to be around.

 

“In summary I wouldl to say, it was a nice experience, it was kid friendly, and had a low-keyatmosphere.” Thanks Locals Guide.

                      The Hanksta 

I went to see the play Welcome Home Jenny Sutter. with the title I expected to see something a bit more serious and political. I was pleasantly surprised,when I was hit with humor and honesty. The Actors were funny and real, the play written by Julie Marie Myatt and set in slab city "a very interesting place in and of itself". About a woman Marine retuning from Iraq it had me laughing all the way though, it also had a very serious side as well. my wife a veteran and third generation Army had a special connection to this play. Go see it!

                                                    

        Ode to You

 

 

 

Man                                                                        Patient,

moves through                                                           like ice

me like                                                                     or

joy,                                                                         a mountain

unnoticeable at first.                                                   or

                                                                                          the sky.

            Alive,

like that gasp of                                                          Love,

air                                                                           like Rumi

that bursts                                                                 hidden,

forth only                                                                  inside the

after                                                                         medicine

a deep leap into                                                          cabinet,under

a brisk                                                                      the remote.

river.

                                                                               Love,

            Intent,                                                                       like muscled

like a lone                                                                  tireless

finger                                                                        hands

that maps the                                                            that continue

freckles, a                                                                to work           

constellation,                                                             even when

along a                                                                    the light

yielding                                                                    is low,

chest.                                                                      and flickering.

 

 

 

 

Hankster     You are my love.    Queen V

                                                           

                                                                        

Tags: Hankster

     The Life of a Salesman

               Short Stories

 

Hi, I’m Henry. I am a salesman, a traveling salesman. I have some pretty strange things to share about my customers, and my relationship to them.

 

As always, the story starts at the front door. You see, I’ma door-knocker. There is a lot  for me to overcome to knock on a door, as there is for the person to open the door that has been knocked on. This is where the relationship starts, though. I’ve had guns pulled on me, police called, been hit by an 80 yr-old man, invited to dinner and had dogs try to take a chunk out of me. I’ve had people want to adopt me, marry me and save me. I’ve had my butt pinched by two sisters, 75 and 80 yrs-old, not once but twice or three times. I’ve mowed lawns for people,prayed with others and fixed things like vacuum cleaners. (I am not a vacuum cleaner salesman.) I’ve adjusted tables, chairs, changed flat tires and many other things. These are the stories--at times comical, scary, sad and joyful--about my life as a salesman.

 

 

                                     � �                                         Hankster

PS. These stories that are to follow this on a regular basis, are real and have actually happened.  

Tags: Hanksta The Gangsta

The Great Debaters….
A Movie Review

I see it only fitting to offer the review in the form of a debate: an argument for watching it and an argument for not watching it.

WHY YOU SHOULD SEE THIS MOVIE: Denzel Washington (as Melvin B. Tolson) and Forest Whitaker (as James Farmer) are inspiring and a rare breed of actors. Also, I love stories based on things that have really happened with people that have actually lived. In the film, I got a real snapshot of what life must have been like for the African American in the ‘30s in the Deep South. This part of the show is in describable--you just have to see it.

The story centers around a debate team from Wiley School, an all-black state college. In spite of many challenges and racist roadblocks,they go up against, and beat, Harvard University in the National Debate Championships. I wanted to cry couple of times, that’s how good the acting was.However, I don’t normally cry so I didn’t …but almost. You should go see this uplifting and victorious movie. I left feeling very proud of these young men and women and would highly recommend it as we approach Martin Luther King, Jr.Day.

WHY TO FORGO SEEING THIS FILM: Well, it’s predictable AND co-produced by Oprah Winfrey, which should be enough in and of itself! It’s a familiar storyline we’ve watched over and over, reminiscent of David and Goliath: a small school goes up against the biggest of big schools and, guess what? Yep… it wins. It’s the classic “underdog beats up on the favorite and, against all odds, .”

Trust me, I haven’t ruined the show for you because you’ll know that this is going to be the outcome a few minutes into it. The story comes with strong political undertones about rascism. These stir up unresolved emotions within me that I find difficult to identify and look at sometimes.

IN SUMMARY: In writing this review, I realize that sometimes

I don’t WANT to face the hard realities of the past and, even, the present.Sometimes I like my “pretty” little world all wrapped up with bows and ribbons.The movie has the potential to reveal the shadow of our culture and, perhaps,your relationship to it. (PS I LOVE EVERYBODY)

Thanks Locals Guide…the popcorn was great.

Reviewed by Hanksta the Gangsta; thankfully edited by my wife, Queen V.

Tags: Movies Hankster Review

We are the mirror ... As well as the face in it.

We are tasting the taste this minute... Of eternity

we are pain... And what cures pain,

We are the sweet cold water... And the jar that pours it.

                                                          Rumi, as seen and translated by Coleman Barks

 

Rumi is by far the greatest lover of God I've read and my favorite prophet when I read him i feel that I'm looking in the face of God himself.