Writing for Fun
April 2015
It's Only A Job - Sue Barker
I think I'm going to have to let you all into a secret of mine. If it wasn't for the fact that we are all sitting here at our Writing for Fun group I doubt I'd ever share this with you. It's something I've kept quiet about for over 30 years, I'm not proud of it but sometimes you have to do things for money you never thought you'd do.
It was in the summer of 1982 I found myself standing on the doorstep of a complete stranger. My stomach was churning and I could feel my face flushing an unattractive red colour. Why did I agree to do this? I asked myself, my mother was very cross with me but I couldn't think of another way out of my problems. Ok, take a deep breath and off you go, you can do this.
It all started when I borrowed some money from my boyfriend. He was my first boyfriend and we were an unlikely couple. I was Miss Frump from Frumpsville, a good church goer and he was a punk rocker. You can imagine how well that went down at home. He wasn't really an outrageous punk, just scruffy really.
Mind you an evening walking down the High Street with him wearing bondage trousers is a memory I'd rather forget, he could barely walk and we were nervous of the skin heads walking towards us, who incidentally only said, 'Cool strides, mate,' as they walked past. Another memory I'd long forgotten was the night he tried to dye his hair with black food dye and turned his ears black too, I was so cross I made him wash his hair and ears until the dye came out. There's only so much a frump could cope with.
Anyway back to the doorstep, I was a girl on a mission, to pay back my debt I thought it would be sensible to take on a second job. I had considered bar work, but felt I was too short to reach the optics and not confident enough to deal with drunks. So I scoured the evening papers and saw an advert that sounded okay and training was provided.
So by day I was a Local Government Officer in the Rates Department. By night I was a double-glazing salesperson, not really a salesperson as such, my job was to knock on doors and get at least five appointments a week for the salesmen to follow up. The training given was to hand me a clipboard with the company's logo on the top with a list of questions to ask and tick off. Simple, ha! There would be a gang of about six of us; we would be picked up in a van and then dropped in a street to start cold calling.
For safety you worked in twos, knocking on alternate doors. Believe it or not but I was quite giddy at that age, everything was a bit of a joke to me, so I thought I would be quite unfazed by just knocking on a stranger's door. It took me a little while to get the hang of it; remembering the company's name was a problem as it wasn't very famous, or that memorable.
The girl I worked with was a young mum of four and she really needed the money, so she was very serious about getting appointments. I was usually successful at getting the appointments needed but poor Elaine really struggled. Who knows the secret of my success? it may have been because I didn't really care I was only doing it until I'd raised enough cash. Whereas the pressure was on Elaine as she needed the money to help feed her little family.
The good thing was the weather, it was lovely, the downside was that the World Cup was being played, so obviously it was pointless trying to sell unless the person opening the door showed any interest, so it started a little slowly, but finally the World Cup was over and the selling began in earnest.
I found I could talk virtually any guy into an appointment until I heard the dulcet tones of the lady of the house; shouting, 'Who is it?' and as soon as the man said, 'A lady about double glazing,' the response from inside was often, 'We don't want it,' and then it was like the reverse of Open Sesame; the door would quickly be shut by the sheepish looking husband. It made me chuckle, but I still managed to get my five weekly appointments.
The silliest thing we had to do was knock on the door even when every window was double glazed; just in case they wanted a conservatory or the back of the house double glazed. People would look at us as if we were barmy. 'Can't you see the whole bleeping house is double-glazed?' Of course I could but I had to ask and tick the bleeping box.
You need a tough shell and a straight face to sell door to door; you never know what you are going to see when that door opens. Men in their grey undies were not uncommon . . . oh how I wish they were. My biggest problem was the straight face, I've always been the same; it doesn't take much to make me laugh and when I start I can laugh 'til I cry. There was more than one occasion that Elaine and I had to walk down the pathway with our backs to each other in case we set each other off.
I only took eight weeks to get enough money to pack it in, I was glad when it was finished as I was very tired doing two jobs and I only had thirty minutes between finishing at my Council job before I was picked up for the double glazing selling. I won't say it was easy money, but I had no problem hitting the targets set. It was only later that I found out the agents who visited to price up the windows were real hard sellers; so there's a little part of me that feels bad and I hope that no-one was pressured into buying when they didn't want to.
The boyfriend was glad to get his money, I'd like to say I learned my lesson and managed my money better but I always had too many days left before I was paid again. Thank goodness I fell in love with and married Mike an accountant. I finally learned how to balance my bank account.
So now you know my secret . . . you won't tell anyone will you?