Salesman

It occurs to me that selling things is difficult. A friend was offered the chance to sell tickets for something and upon further mulling, I realized you could probably rake in lots of skrill (see: Cheese, Cream).

However, fat skrill-wad-making is usually contingent upon ones ability to actually sell what they are selling efficiently. And I would just suck at that.
Let me break it down for you.

Some people have the gift of Sell. They can completely not care about the ability, the quality, the point of their product and still make it sound like a magic ice cream cone tree.

Me...not so much.
If I know this seed will not an ice cream cone tree make, I can't sell it. Here's an impression.

Ding Dong
Kindly Citizen: Oh, good morning. Can I help you?

Me: Good morning! Let me ask you a question that I can probably guess the answer to...Are you interested in seeds?

KC: What?

Me: Seeds! And ice cream, too? Wait, I shouldn't tell you that part yet. Let's start over.
brief moment of silence as i compose myself mentally
Good morning! I have seeds for you!

DOOR CLOSING.

That's just a worst-case scenario for something that i'm not sold on myself. However, if I do believe in the product, well you better believe the gift of Sell is suddenly alive in me as some enzymes after I drink a little watermelon lemonade (trademark: King of Drinks).

Here are a few things I think I could sell the crap out of and make you and your company a fat wad of skrill.

1). John Williams.
And I'm not talking about the spanish guitar stylings of some dude with extra long strummin' nails. I'm talking about the man who has provided sound to color our imaginations since the 1960s, and specifically who gave Steven Spielberg that extra goodness that has made him an icon.




Sells itself.



2). Pumpkin lattes.
Not only do they scream deliciousness of fall. They also are hot as lava and can be used as a weapon against hobos trying to rob you for change (which you don't have anyway, because you just generously tipped the barista).
I love pumpkin lattes (after they're cooled down enough to drink of course. those tongue burns last for a week!) so much, I'm not even going to pick a company here to court me into becoming their spokeswoman. I'm just going to show ALL of them right here and now how they could make millions this season from this drink alone and then may the highest bidder win.

Bengali Tea Boys, or working with the crazies

There was a great Indian teacher and master of Buddhism in the 10th century. His name was Atisha, and he is credited for bringing Buddhism to Tibet - and why lineages like those of the Dalai Lamas and Karmapas exist.

Atisha was renowned as the greatest living scholar, adherent and mentor in the teachings of the Middle Way. However, when it was time for him to go to Tibet, he heard many stories about the Tibetans - mostly that they were warm, earthy, patient, kind - and so he was afraid that they wouldn't push his buttons enough. So he decided to bring along a special guest. His little servant, who history remembers as the Bengali tea boy (Atisha was from Bengal, modern-day Bangladesh).

The Bengali tea boy was ill-tempered, annoying and just really drove Atisha nuts, presumably with his little sass mouth. So Atisha decided he had better bring the tea boy along, lest he become lax in his practice of patience or wain in his spiritual focus.

Well, ironically, he found the barbaric culture of warriors who awaited him in Tibet not in the least as ideal as he had feared, and so really had no need of the bratty little tea boy. The story of Atisha goes on, but for me this particular episode in his life is inspiring on a number of levels for my own practice.

Atisha, an accomplished and revered master, was still fully aware he had blind spots. He knew he wasn't perfect - and he admitted it. But he also knew he had a tendency to get lazy or feel like some kind of expert, so he made sure someone he couldn't stand was always there by his side to keep him on his toes, spiritually speaking. To make sure his ego was kept in check.

It is so helpful (when I can remember to do it!) to think of those annoying and seemingly psycho people that it feels so justifiable putting in the "Permanent Idiot Column" as little Bengali tea boys who have been specifically engineered to light my personal short fuses. As the mind-training slogan says, "Every situation is the perfect teacher." So it's almost like the whole universe has come together each moment to give us exactly the things we need; if that thing happens to be taken down off our pedestal a bit (for our own good) the universe gives us a manipulative co-worker or nosy mailman on whom to practice patience or understanding.

Now, this is not to say that no one in our lives ever means us harm or should be allowed to inflict constant pain on others. I think what the story is pointing out is the Habit of our reaction when we feel taken down from our pedestal, for me self-defensiveness and anger. Someone stepped on my foot and made me hop around like an idiot in pain? Well now I'll step on theirs! Take that!



In its most extreme forms, this tit-for-tat vengeful behaviour can turn into a war. Buddhist teachings about defensiveness and anger ask the question what are our other options? Can we forgive? Can we realize it was an accident? What else is there besides our own feelings of justification and anger?

Considering the difficult people in our lives in the slightly positive light of the Bengali tea boy not only takes some of the charge out of our anger, it also opens us up to grow. Because if we can at least be willing to work with the frustration, the blind spots that they point out (every chance they flippin' get) then it gives us the opportunity to really honestly examine ourselves and maybe learn a little bit about our own habits as well.

And through that knowledge, maybe we get a little space of liberation and relief. Plus, nothing pisses menacing tea boys off like smiling patiently right through one of their crazy episodes of drama entitled "me me me time" starring Me as Me. The best revenge is to be happy and have good life! Take that! (I'm still working on it)

Pursebook, Or how self-help books automatically make you look like an unstable mental patient

So when I’m going around doing stuff, I like to have a book in case of some down time. And I don't have a personal cell phone, so if I am getting emails/calls, they're probably work related so not exactly the best way to relax.

Thus I have found, it helps to have a book on me at all times one because I like reading with my eyes (as opposed to letting my eyes wander carelessly around the room and perhaps linger too long on some awkward location on someone’s person and then they catch me and I’m like dang it, eyes! I knew I should have given you something to do!) and two because most of the options in doctors’ offices or DMV lobbies aren’t exactly my favorite thing to read. (sorry, Hot Hobos Quarterly)

So I keep a book in my purse. As I am always (barely) trying to grow and become a better person, I tend to read self-help. Currently, my pursebook is When Things Fall Apart by Buddhist teacher Pema Chodron.

Here is a picture of the cover:

It’s really a wonderful book, one of those that you can have for years and re-read over and over, each time finding some new, helpful insight that strikes you. I have probably read it three or four times and it’s one of my favorites.

The problem?

Well…it sort of makes me look like a suicidal hippie. And not even because of the title. Because of my neurotic chain reaction after someone asks me about it.

One time, I was reading it over lunch at work, and an office lady walked by and went, “Oh, what are you reading?” (OK, first of all I hate when people ask this…it’s like, just look at the cover if you want to know and also why do you even care? This isn’t a book club – this is work/Sparta. I’m citing you for insubordination!)

Begrudgingly, I held up the book so she could see the title…and of course she looked at me with this droopy dog face as if to say, “Oh do you have cancer? Or maybe you’re one of those Sally Jesse Raphael moms and your teenager beats you?”

And so of course I felt the need to clarify.

“No, I’m not sad - it’s about Buddhism.”

And the lady cocked her head at me only without sympathy now, and instead with sort of a “does it smell like waffles in here to you?” look and said kind of bluntly, “Oh are you into that?”

And I was like, “…Uhhh…Well, I guess so – it’s more about putting compassion into every day life.” But by then she was totally weirded out (maybe because she was expecting to have to comfort a dying hippie–or am I really that snobby?) and was already on her way out of the kitchen while she said something like, “Oh okay.”
So…I kind of stopped reading it at work and other public places for a while. But it’s such a helpful book, I always wind up carrying it around again.

And anyway, don’t judge me just because I want to be a better person. That book helps me and probably countless others so who cares if someone like Office Drone Susan McJagginstacks doesn’t get it. Insubordination!

And that type of silly neurotic behavior is exactly why I need to be reading the book in the first place. If you’re going to go to pieces & get all uppity when someone takes a polite-if-nonchalant interest in what you are reading, chances are you should to be reading from the Self-help section anyway. Thank you, Pema Chodron. You have changed my life – sorry I always fall short of your instructions, but I know you understand.