A.B.C. (Always Be Closing)

7/23/10 Zig Zigler's seminal work, Secrets of Closing the Sale, abandoned

While we are well under way preparing for the opening of SOAR Charter School, the building, itself, is not quite ready for us. As finishing touches are put on our facility, I've been fortunate enough to use a spare cubicle in a nearby business.

Out of respect -- and a slight fear of reprisal -- I shall not name the business that has so generously donated temporary office space to us.

I will explain, however, that an educator working in a sales office creates a bit of culture shock. My cubicle abutted a conference room, where, last Monday, the sales team had their usual Monday morning meeting.

Oh.

My.

God.

This little event kicked off at 8AM, but preparations had been underway since about seven. Streamers were hung from the door, balloons and glittery stars adorned the walls, and (honestly, this is true) I literally tripped coming down the stairs because a number of cheerleader pompoms were strewn about the stairway in festive, decorative fashion.

The stereo system was turned to eleven. One song was definitely by the Black Eyed Peas; I tried to block out the DJ after that.

And then it got weird.

As sales staff arrived their colleagues blew whistles -- shrill, metal, gym-class whistles -- with great enthusiasm and let out the whoops and hollers one might expect at a bachelorette party when the "fireman" emerges from the cake. I don't know if the salesmen were assigned staggered arrival times, but these cheering welcomes seemed to last for a good forty-five minutes.

Just try to design reading curriculum for first graders under these conditions. Go ahead, I dare you.

Once the formal business part of the meeting got underway, the wall between the sales team and me provided a bit of merciful muffling, but two more agenda items managed to burst their way into my consciousness.

First, at one point sales team members were apparently called up in front of their peers to roll a pair if dice. They were then given ten dollars in cash for every dot in the resulting roll. One dude rolled an eleven and the whole crew counted along as he was handed $110. To be frank, at this point I considered trying to sneak in and join the festivities.

And then came the piece de resistance: a viewing, at maximum volume, of the scene from Glengarry Glen Ross when Alec Baldwin gives us an impression of salesman that falls somewhere in the range between Ebola and Rod Blagojevich. (Watch the magic here, but make sure your kids aren't in the room.)

To paraphrase: "Only one thing counts in this life: get them to sign on the line which is dotted. You hear me, you f***ing f*****s?!?"

Well, now I'm motivated to get out there and sell something.

Please keep in mind, I was on the other side of a wall, so I couldn't hear the justification for closing the meeting with this clip.

Then again, could there be any justification?

I shouldn't judge too harshly. Some time ago, when I was trying to figure out additional income streams, I bought Zig Ziglar's sales Bible, Secrets of Closing the Sale. Apparently, it's one of the most influential sales books in history. I didn't get too far into it, but I have held onto it ever since.

On Monday, we get into our school. I'll have my own office and be in a place where, when adults act childish, at least they have good, six-year-old role models to emulate.

As I packed up my cubicle this evening and left the building, the opportunity to leave Zig behind was too great to resist. Clearly, these people need all the help they can get.

I dropped the book on the table in the lobby. Maybe the sales staff can pick up a few tips that Alec Baldwin forgot to mention.