Friday, April 20, 2012

It was a sunny, breezy day--sweatshirt weather--as Steve sat on the park bench, typing his sales report and eating a sandwich.  A bit of lettuce had broken off and dropped onto his computer and was now lodged underneath the spacebar and now the spacebar wouldn’t space.  It was funny, he thought, how people’s brains seemed to check out the moment they walked into the store.  They asked him all kinds of questions about this refrigerator or that dishwasher, as if he had owned each one and knew intimately each one’s strengths and weaknesses.  He responded as if he were an expert, and customers seemed to sense he was full of shit, but usually they’d take his suggestions anyway.  If he weren’t concerned with seeming to provide quality customer service, he’s simply say, “You get what you pay for, buy the one you can afford,” and walk away.   

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