Peeing

Just a quick note, most girls probably won’t like this story. Read at your own risk, girls.

Door-to-door sales can be a tough job, especially for someone who doesn’t like to intrude on other people. Most of us were like that when we started. It was hard enough for me to get through a pitch at a door, much less ask someone for something after they had already rejected me in the first place. One of the things I hated to ask was to use someone’s bathroom…as a result, I often found myself peeing under a bridge, in some bushes, behind a vacant house, or even in a co-workers shoes (see The Prank War). Thinking back, I’m surprised I felt more comfortable peeing in public than peeing in someone’s house.

I wasn’t the only who relieved himself creatively either. One of the guys who worked with us had to go #2 so bad one day that he found a house no one was home at and pooped in the backyard. He came back with only one sock…we all thought he was pretty funny, but his wife didn’t seem to agree. This was the first of many interesting reliefs over the summer…as time went on we all discovered the joy of peeing in water bottles while we were on the move. The first time I had to pee and didn’t have an option, Steve picked me up and threw me a water bottle. It took some time, but I eventually succeeded, and thus the trend started. We would be driving along, listening to the radio in silence, and we would suddenly hear the sound of a stream of liquid filling a plastic water bottle. At first this was quite comical, but it actually became fairly commonplace.

As time went on, it became normal to jump into the back of the van and find a pee-filled water bottle. We would dispose of our own waste every night, so the van didn’t get too full of refuse, but as time went on the peeing moved into new realms. Steve, or manager, would often come to the houses we were making a sale at to help close the deal. Steve’s favorite past-time quickly became asking to use the customer’s bathroom, and instead of peeing in the toilet, he would pee in the sink. We’re not sure why this was so hilarious, but it caught on. Instead of bragging about how many sales we got that day, we would brag about how many sinks we had peed in. This was a big change for me, since at the beginning of the summer I was embarrassed to use a customer’s bathroom, and now I was abusing them.

One evening, we were all waiting for Grady, one of the other salesmen, to come out of a sale so we could all go home. Taylor, another salesman, was sitting in the backseat drinking a fountain-drink from 7-11 when an idea hit him. He finished the soda and jumped behind the backseat into the trunk area of the van, where he proceeded to…not pee…but poop in his empty Styrofoam cup. About three seconds after the other 5 guys in the van realized what he was doing, we escaped the van before we felt like puking. Taylor remained in the van for a few minutes before exiting the trunk hatch with his prize possession, when we all informed him that he and his friend were both not welcome for the ride home. Taylor placed the poop-cup behind a tree just in time for Grady to come out of the sale, and as we all drove home in silence, Grady sat, wondering what the awkwardness had resulted from.

The next day, no one peed in bottles, cups, or even sinks. Except for Grady, but we made him drink his pee as punishment.

Kenny and the $35.29 Big Gulps

Kenny, like half of the office, was a Canuck. Some things just plain escaped him. Debit cards were one of those things.

As mentioned in other stories, Kenny always had a Big Gulp. Every time I saw him he had a Big Gulp with him. Once, I saw him get into the van without one and I was shocked. Then he got a worried look on his face as he jumped out of the van. He scrambled around outside until he found his Big Gulp sitting on the curb. Every day Kenny would buy his Big Gulp, sometimes two or three of them a day. Without fail.

Firstline didn’t have the best track record when it came to paying employees. The first few weeks of the summer only a couple people got paid the right amount at the right time. We all opened up accounts at US Bank because it was right across the street from our office. Every payday the bank was a madhouse in the morning with everyone showing up to deposit checks and such.

Kenny knew how much he was suppose to be getting paid. But he didn’t keep very good track of how much he was actually getting paid. One payday Kenny deposited his check and the teller handed him his deposit slip and Kenny’s jaw dropped open in disbelief.

“$238?!” Kenny exclaimed. “How can I be negative $238?!” Kenny proceeded to argue with the teller who clearly didn’t care what kind of predicament this put Kenny in. Kenny picked up on the fact that the girl didn’t care and he got louder and louder.

Finally a senior teller stepped in and pulled Kenny over to her desk. “What seems to be the problem?” she asked in a soft, grandmotherly sort of tone.

Kenny quieted down some but was still visibly angered. He told the lady that it was impossible that he could be $238 in the hole. “All I buy is Big Gulps,” he said.

The lady patiently explained that Kenny had been buying all of his big gulps for the past week when he didn’t have any real money in his account. Each time he bought a $1.29 Big Gulp he was also incurring an additional overdraft fee of $34.00.

Kenny was irate. He was so mad he could barely talk. The only thing he could say is, “But, that’s not how debit cards work in Canada!” His argument got louder and more incoherent. The lady calmed him down once again and told him she would wave one or two of the fees but he would still have to pay off the rest.

Kenny realized he had nothing left to argue and left. He decided to open another account at a different bank and leave his debt here when he went back to Canada at the end of the summer. Kenny still bought Big Gulps on a daily basis.

Kenny

Kenny is a guy unlike any guy I’ve ever met. How can I describe Kenny…he has a messy-hair look all the time, and I guess that pretty much summarizes his whole life…messy hair. Let me explain a little better.

I first met Kenny the night after I got to Kansas City. I had flown in from San Antonio that morning and went straight out to knock and get some sales. At the end of the day, Steve picked me up and I met up with Chet and talked about how the last few weeks down in Texas had been for me. We headed back to the office and inside I saw…Kenny.

Kenny looked confused…he was just standing in the middle of the room, staring at the dry-erase board where we recorded the sales, holdng a Big Gulp.

“Hey, you need something?” I asked the clearly confused young man.

“I got a sale today but the board says I didn’t…” Kenny motioned to the board and sure enough, it didn’t say he had any sales. It also didn’t have anyone else’ sales recorded either, and it being my first day in a new office, I was a little confused myself. Kenny laughed to himself as he shook his head and walked away. That was Kenny.

Over the next three months, Kenny would never cease to amaze me. One morning, as we all gathered in for the ritual morning cheer, Kenny seemed confused about something.

“Has anyone here ever heard of that Jeep thing?” Kenny shouted to us as we were milling about.

“Like…the car?” Someone replied.

“No not like that,” Kenny responded, as he set down his Big Gulp, got down on all fours and began crawling about, saying “Beep, beep, I’m a Jeep…beep, beep, I’m a Jeep!”

Everyone stared at Kenny in shock, not knowing if we were supposed to laugh, cry, or even join him…but that was Kenny. After he ‘explained’ what the Jeep thing was, he got up, grabbed his Big Gulp, and walked out without saying another word…that was Kenny.

Outside Kenny’s odd outbursts and interesting personality, he was a pretty good salesman and pretty luck as well. Kenny usually came back with a sale at the end of the day, and even if he didn’t, someone he had talked with extensively would call him a few days later.

“We wish we had listened to you, Kenny, our house got robbed last night and we want an alarm now,” they would state. Kenny would get their information and get over to their house immediately to seal the deal. This happened at least four times to Kenny, and we all just thought he was lucky. Turned out, he wasn’t.

Kenny walked into the office barefoot one day with a Big Gulp in his hand after going to sign a deal earlier that morning. No one thought it was beyond Kenny to forget his shoes, but we decided to ask him what happened anyway. Kenny took a breath and began to explain.

“We’re so glad you could come back and get us this alarm system…we wish we had listened to you before we were robbed.” Kenny sipped on his Big Gulp and listened to his client as they were ready to sign the papers, and consoled them on the emotional event. Just as the woman was about to sign the papers, she looked down and asked “What kind of shoes are those?”

“Oh these, these are Nike Shox…I got them about a week ago.” The woman set the pen down and pulled out a business card the detective had given her hours prior. Ten minutes later, Kenny was being asked to relinquish his shoes by that same detective.

“Listen here, sonny,” the detective grumbled, “Nike Shox are the same kind of shoe that was used to kick this door in the other night when fine these people were robbed.” Kenny had no idea what the officer was getting at, but as Kenny explained that his shoes were taken, we helped clarify that he was now a suspect in the robbery. Lucky for him, Kansas City police are more concerned with the half a dozen murders a day than with salesmen like Kenny. Lucky for him this wasn’t Raytown.

We all thought the incident was odd and very coincidental, but we all laughed it off as another interesting moment in door-to-door sales history. That is, until the drive out to our area, when someone suggested that maybe Kenny did rob that lady’s house, along with all the other houses that had been robbed where he got a sale afterwards. Kenny’s roommates had explained how weird Kenny was, every morning he would stand out on the balcony, talking and laughing while having a cigarette, but no one would be out there with him. Then, he would often be unable to recall conversations he had with other people in the office, or even customers. We pieced it together and realized that maybe Kenny had robbed all those houses and he just didn’t remember.

“Maybe Kenny is like Tyler Durden, like from Fight Club,” someone suggested. We all got a laugh at that, but then the laugh turned into a quiet realization that maybe they were right. Maybe Kenny had an alter-ego or a split personality, or maybe he was just crazy. The pieces came together in my mind…the talking to himself, the odd one-sided conversations, and the look in his eyes like he wasn’t really there…that was Kenny.

The Great Escape

The days can get really long when selling door to door. Usually the things people do or say to you at the door to get you to leave just roll off your back. They have to in this business or you end up quitting like a lot of people in the office. Today was a day that got to me a bit.

I can’t remember for sure what got to me throughout the day, but I remember the straw that broke the camel’s back. I knocked on a door and waited. A moment later I hear, “No habla Englase! F*** You! No habla Englase!”

Seriously, I think to myself. I learned enough Spanish to get a door approach out. I even made a sale in Spanish once. I don’t even speak Spanish. But I learned just enough to function in Spanish neighborhoods. These idiots moved here and all they can say in English is, “f*** you”?!

It wasn’t my best judgment ever, but I left a note on the door that said something along the lines of, “Learn English or go back to Mexico,” or something of that nature. As I walked away from the door I took a look at my map and realized there was a mall a few blocks away. I figured it would be a good idea to go grab some food there and take a break to regain some composure.

I’m half way down the street and all the sudden a speeding car comes to a sliding stop in the middle of the street. One look inside revealed an obese woman who also happend to be yelling something at me; a slightly less obese woman in the passenger seat, both are dressed like trailer trash. And in the back seat was a thirteen or fourteen year old black kid, dressed like a thug. I had a suspicion that this car load of trash was somehow related to my note.

The lady demanded I come over to the car so I decided to oblige her request. My suspicions were correct; she started yelling at me about my note. She said she was going to call the cops and call my boss so I quickly removed my badge and shoved it in my pocket and flipped over my sales binder that had the company’s 800 number in big bold letters.

I told her the cops weren’t going to do anything, but I really didn’t want to stick around to find out. I’d already had one run in with the police here and I didn’t need a second. I calmed the lady down a bit but she was set on either getting me arrested of fired. She told me I should be thanking her that she got the note first and not her Mexican-gangbanger neighbors. She even threatened to go tell said neighbors and have them shoot me after I refused to give her my bosses phone number. So much for not perpetuating the stereotype. I kept the lady talking long enough to formulate a plan.

Steve, our boss, would give each of us a map everyday and highlight the streets we could knock. I stole glances at the map while I argued with the female Jabba the Hutt about how I’m not actually a racist. I even accused her of being the racist because she was the one yelling things in Spanish. That didn’t go over real well. I noticed a fairly large, undeveloped portion of land a block away that stood between me and the mall on the map. That’s when the idea hit me.

Next thing I know I running down the street at a full sprint. I heard the sound of a car starting up and peeling out. They’re going to run me over! I think to myself. I ran between two parked cars, onto the sidewalk, and hurdled some kid’s toys.

Only twenty yards to the field.

I crossed the street and ran down the hill into the brush just as the ghetto car slid to a stop on the street above me. They started yelling and I kept running, not looking back. “Home free,” I said as I dropped out of their sight.

This undeveloped land was about a quarter mile by a quarter mile. There was a bunch of tall trees on the West side, some big piles of dirt that a construction company dumped near the Northeast corner, and fairly tall brush most everywhere else. All I had to do was go from the South end to the neighborhood on the North end and make my way a mile West to the mall. Easier said than done.

As I stepped out of the brush and onto the street I knew something wasn’t quite right. I looked over my shoulder and saw the crappy brown ghetto car that had been chasing me only minutes before. The thug kid stuck his head out the window and started yelling as the car picked up speed. I headed back for the brush and easily avoided them. I spent the next half hour or so popping out of different parts of the land only to be spotted with in thirty seconds. The thug kid even got out of the car and tried to follow me at one point. Luckily, he couldn’t keep up so he went back to the car. The last thing I needed was to be put in a position where I had to beat up some fourteen year old.

It didn’t help that I was wearing a bright blue company shirt. They probably could see just enough of the shirt to see which direction I was headed in so they could cut me off. New game plan. I decided to call Steve, my boss.

Steve drove around in a minivan all day. When one of us would give him a call he would show up at the house and help close the sale. I could have him drive by and I could jump in the van and leave.

I hunkered down behind some bushes and pulled out my phone. Just as Steve picked up I heard movement, so I whispered.

“Steve, people are chasing me. I’m hiding in some bushes right now. You need to pick me up.”

“You’re where? … I’m in a house with Taylor right now, I’ll call you back in a minute.”

I turned my phone to silent and waited. The sound of movement stopped so if figured it probably wasn’t the thug kid. My phone rang. I whispered again when I answered partly to make sure no one could hear me, partly for the theatrics.

“Steve, I’m hiding in some bushes in an undeveloped part of my knocking area. Some people are chasing me so I need you to pick me up and get me out of here.”

“That’s crazy! What happened?” Steve asked, half laughing.

“It’s a long story, I’ll fill you in on all the details when you get here.” I proceeded to explain where I was on his master map and the general sketch of whey they were chasing me.

“I’m way over in Taylor’s area right now. I have to pick up Grady too. I can be there in a half an hour or 45 minutes or so.”

“Alright,” I said. “I can kill some time here in the bushes.”

I spent the next half hour staying out of sight and making phone calls to keep from getting bored.

Steve pulled into the area he thought I was in and called me. Steve wasn’t very good with directions, but this time he wasn’t too far off. I was giving him directions to guide him closer when all the sudden he said, “hold on.”

It sounded like he put the phone in his pocket, luckily I could still hear what was going on.

“Hey! Do you work for Firstline?” I recognized the voice of the trailer trash hunting me.

“Yeah, I’m the local manager. What’s up?” It sounded like Steve already knew what this would be about.

I caught most of the conversation. The fat lady told Steve why they were chasing me and said the cops were on their way. Steve apologized, said he would take care of it, and asked to see the note. He also asked if he could keep it. This made me happy. If Steve had it, there would be no real evidence for the fat chicks to give to the police.

Every few minutes Steve would pull out his phone and update me on what was going on and to stay out of sight. The police showed up a few minutes later and didn’t seem to care a whole lot. They looked around for a minute and said to call back if there were any more problems.

Now that the police were gone Steve convinced the ghetto girls that he would take care of the situation. He got back on his phone and informed me that the fat chicks were still on the lookout for me and we needed to get out of there quick.

I moved to some cover on the Northwest corner of the land I was on and guided Steve in. This took quite a while. Steve is an excellent salesman, he’s just not very good with maps. I finally saw him drive by going West. I told him to stop and turn around and I explained the rest of my plan.

Growing up I remember an Air Force pilot by the name of Scott O’Grady getting shot down in Bosnia and seeing the news footage of him running to the helicopter after evading capture for several days. This whole thing vaguely reminded me of Captain O’Grady.

The plan was in action. Steve slowly drove down the street. “OK Steve, I can see you now. You’re about a hundred yards from my position… Open the door… now.”

Grady opened the sliding door of the van on my command about thirty yards from my position. This was the cue for me to sprint. Steve was still doing about fifteen miles per hour. Luckily I timed my sprint just right. I dove from the curb into the moving van. I landed on the middle seats and then rolled onto the floor and Grady shut the door.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Where’d you come from?” Steve yelled. “I didn’t even see you coming!” Steve was clearly excited by our game of Mission: Impossible.

Seconds later Steve yelled, “get down!” The ghetto car was up ahead and flagging Steve down. He rolled to a stop and cracked the window while I tried to stay out of sight on the floor of the van. Porky asked Steve if he had seen me yet. Steve said no and made up a story about how I’m not even answering his phone calls. They seemed to swallow his story and left.

I stayed on the floor explaining the whole story to Steve and Grady while we drove to a new area. We all had a good laugh.

Steve dropped me off in a new area to finish out the night. I called him to pick me up pretending to be hiding in a bush again and he almost bought it.

The VP of the company happened to be in town to visit the office when all this happened. I was a little nervous at what might happen. Steve told me the next day that John, the VP, thought it was hilarious. It can’t happen again, but hilarious none the less.