The Polish Experience
I have a problem and you can help me solve it.
My name is James Williamson, I was the seventh best salesperson out of two
hundred and fifty or so such workers at a company called Minkins & Minkins. I
had been working there for less than a year but was suitably impressed with
myself. The fuckers above me had been at the company much longer and thus
had better contacts to milk.
I was new, I was fresh, I was closing over 300 sales a month!
Some of the top sixers only closed 20 or 30 sales, admittedly huge sales that
dwarfed mine but if I could land a big deal I’d be number one in no time. I just
needed that one milky tit to suckle off while I kept bringing in three digit sales,
then they’d love me, then they’d respect me.
Sales is a strange mixture of being everyone’s best friend and surviving as a
lone wolf in a harsh, stab your best friend in the back, environment. That is why
I never mixed business and pleasure. I worked then I partied.
I lived with Royce and Ranieer. I dated a Polish chick and bragged about her
when I was in the office. Royce and Ranieer didn’t think much of her but what
the fuck did I care? While she was riding me reverse cowgirl, I could squint and