Justin Reamer

Freshman - 967 Points (2 October 1993 / Holland, Michigan)

The Salesman - Poem by Justin Reamer

I am the salesman,
A man you may know but may
Not know at the same time.
You may know me from seeing me on the street,
Or from seeing me fill my car with gas,
Or you may not know me at all,
For I am an insignificant person in this world,
Utterly useless to your daily life,
Which is completely okay to you.

You may know me from somewhere,
Or you may know me from nowhere,
But either way, it is okay,
Because I just struggle to get by.

I am a salesman,
Selling my product,
Working for Vector Marketing,
Selling Cutco cutlery,
Which is the finest cutlery in the world,
Compared to the stuff made in Germany,
Like Shun, Wusthof, and J.A. Hankels,
And stuff like the Pampered Chef,
And the products are great, too,
Like the Super Shears,
The Veggie Peeler,
The spatula spreader, the butcher knife,
The can opener, the garlic press, the pizza cutter,
The ice cream scoop, and so much more.
I love the product I sell,
And I know you will love it, too;
It's just that I am not making
Enough money to help me get by;
It feels as though I am not making ends meet.

I call people all the time,
Using them as references.
Don't you worry;
I'm not a telemarketer.
I call people all the time,
Being friendly and respectful,
Building rapport,
Using the repartee that God blessed me with,
And tell customers about what I am doing.
I tell them about my presentation,
About the kind of work I do,
And I ask them if quarter to 1: 00 pm
Or half-past 4: 00 pm works better for them.
They ask me what my presentation is about,
About how long it is,
And, of course, I joke with them,
Telling them I sell waterproof sponges,
Or baby alligators in a blanket,
And that they can get the fast version
Or the slow version by ordering over the phone,
But I tell them I am joshing with them,
And they laugh all the more.
My presentation would only take thirty-one
To forty-five minutes,
And it wouldn't be that bad.
I get a lot of yeses,
And I get a lot of nos,
And then I get a lot of maybes,
And the occasional 'We'll see'
And 'Call me back later.'
It can be a little hard,
But the yeses take the bait,
And I am able to do my job.

I then go to the customer's house,
And I show her my demo,
Showing off how great Cutco is,
And then I show her my stuff,
Give her my shpeel,
And show her the amazing stuff Cutco can do.
I show her the Super Shears and how
It can cut a penny in two because
It is that freaking strong!
I show her how the petite carver
Has the Double-D edge that makes
It more powerful than a straight-edge knife,
And lasts longer than a serrated-edge knife.
I show Mrs Jones the amazing things about Cutco,
Including the high-resin handles,
With the universal wedgelock grip,
The nickel rivets,
The full tang that goes back into the handle,
The DD edge,
The rope-cutting demo, and so much more that makes
The Cutco product all the more special.
My job is great,
And I love it.

Yet, I can never make ends meet,
For that is the hard part.
I travel like crazy,
And I can never seem to make the right
Amount of money in the right places
In the right amount of time.
It is like I am doomed.
But I try hard,
No matter what.

I am the salesman,
And you may know me,
We may have met before,
But if you ever see me in trouble,
I ask you very kindly,
Please lend me a hand.

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Poem Edited: Wednesday, July 24, 2013

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