Shirtless holding a cat.

Sales people, as you may know, are a special breed. You can tell a salesman from a few key distinguishing characteristics. Slicked hair (or overly styled hair), popped collar (or a collar that has obviously been popped in the immediate past), aggressive business casual attire, and a constantly going off cell phone that he always ‘just gotta take this call for a second’. This call invariably sounds something like this : “(insert name here) how are we? (fake laugh) ... Oh yeah? Nice.... Nice... Nice!... Absolutely, listen I got that package you sent, I gotta say I love it. ... Absolutely... Alright man... Ciao.” Then you get the explanation of who the person was and why it was so important that he speak with him. The salesman always enunciates his words to an almost uncomfortable level, yet at the same time makes sure to use the most popular vernacular such as dude, man, my friend, and cowboy (which pisses me off cause I use that all the time when i forget people’s names, and now I’m going to feel douchy doing it). Also, in the middle of a meeting they will almost always lean in, fake look around to make sure no one is in the room, and tell a dirty joke. The joke is always bad, followed by the sales laugh, and the expectant look for you to go along with it and laugh, thereby somehow validating their existence.

                I would provide a description of the saleswomen, but in the five years I’ve been here, I have yet to see one. That isn’t to say they don’t exist, I just have never encountered one. Come to think of it, I’ve never even heard of one. Do women consciously avoid being salespeople? If so good on them. They’re like goddamned pokaroo. Mythical creatures you can’t be sure exist.

I, as the head awesomeologist of Awesome Inc. have the unfortunate duty to deal with any and all sales people. Depending on the time of day, the amount of sleep I’ve had, and the degree of awareness the salesman in front of me has of his own douchiness, my willingness to play along with their little farce of an existence varies greatly.

One gentleman, and by gentleman I mean biggest douchebag in the history of mankind, knows instinctively the very worst moment to arrive, and seizes that opportunity to show up spouting on and on about potential clients and how incredible he is. Let’s call him scarecrow. As I am a nice guy, I usually just nod along and smile politely and corral scarecrow towards the door. Some days though I like to make myself feel better by causing him mental strife. The fact that making others uncomfortable makes me smile may say more about me than them, but I’m comfortable with who i am... Awesome.

So he comes into my office and sits down. At this point I’ve decided I’m not going to blink for this whole meeting. As he’s shooting off his normal nonsense he begins to take notice that I’m not blinking and smiling serenely. Noticeably shaken, he reaches for his vibrating cell phone and says ‘just gotta take this call for a second’, as I mirror his words (oddly) exactly in sync with him. He begins his conversation with some asshole who he calls cowboy (bastard!), at which point i begin to unbutton my dress shirt slowly while standing up and moving towards the window in the office, lowering the blinds.

I would describe to you the look on his face, but the words simply do not exist in the English language. Imagine icabod crane with rotten teeth dressed up in the finest salvation army work clothes available. Now imagine an angry homeless man and a klingon making passionate aggressive love to each other directly in front of him. The look on his face would be almost the same.

I sit back down at my desk, still not blinking, and i open up itunes and start the song ‘single ladies’ by beyonce at a low volume so as to not interrupt his phone call, which he had long since ceased to participate in. I slowly play air guitar along to the song (which is impressive as the song has no guitar) while not breaking eye contact. He finally comes to and tells his phone friend ‘...I’ll uhh... have to call you back.’

So he continues on his little shpiel, while i write a message on my computer to another employee who gets off on needlessly screwing with people, let’s call him Eric (also not breaking eye contact which was a goddamned trick let me tell you). I tell him to call me in one minute exactly, and then two minutes after that come into my office shirtless holding a cat.

My phone rings. I let it ring an unnatural number of times (the discomfort is compounded by my selected ringtone... Save a horse ride a cowboy by big n rich) He asks, seemingly terrified... ‘you gonna answer that?’ I pick up the phone and give a good 30 second rape shush, full finger over the mouth and everything. Starting quiet and getting progressively louder. Then I hang up the phone.

We sit in silence for another 30 seconds, then a little knock on my door and Eric walks in shirtless holding a cat (kudos to him for finding the thing. Where the hell do you just find a cat downtown in like 5 minutes?) doesn’t say anything just stares at me petting the cat. I continue staring at scarecrow. At this point it’s so goddamned creepy that the cat starts to freak out. Eric then proceeds to rapeshush the cat, and Scarecrow stands up visibly shaken and says ‘well i should get going... i’ll send you an email later.’ I’ve never seen a man move so fast for the exit in my life. I am still awaiting that email. I miss scarecrow.