The measure of a man can be easily taken when you see the sorts of things he’s willing to do for money. For instance, I once applied for a job with Vector Marketing knowing nothing about them or what they did. This resulted in being invited not to an interview so much as a seminar in the conference room of a local hotel. Maybe the Holiday Inn. In my youth, this meant nothing to me. Nowadays, of course, my first instincts would be that I was about to be raped on camera in a non-descript motel room by a trucker from South Dakota who would skip the country and I’d never hear about it again until the video ended up online with cartoon sound effects added in. But back then I figured “Ooh, seminar.”

If you have ever been rooked into a seminar by a prospective employer, you know exactly what stupid shit I was walking in to. A room full of equally ignorant people, a motivational speaker ass hat in a cheap suit explaining how we can make money with their amazing product and, finally, the explanation of how all we need to do is pay for our own start up kit then we sell to our friends but really it’s not even selling because the product sells itself and by the way, you’re all idiots. You, Ian, are an idiot. Pay for this stuff and go sell it.

Naturally, at this point, you’re wondering what awesome thing I was selling. Was it exotic cheese from Senegal? Was it shoes stolen from Russian models? Was it crack? I’m afraid not, as there’s a potential market for all that. I was to represent Cutco. I was to sell knives.

There is nothing in the world stupider than selling knives and that includes drinking from storm drains, French kissing a light socket and trying to give yourself a vasectomy because doctors are just trying to rip you off.  Selling knives is ridiculous. If you have ever watched a sad, desperate individual in a suit come into your home with their little kit full of knives to do the full of 30+ minute presentation on these God forsaken knives, you know exactly what I mean.

The biggest problem with Cutco knives is that they’re perfectly good knives. They work really well. I don’t need to sell them. Put the damn things in a Wal Mart and everyone who wants them will go get them. What the Cutco people don’t seem to appreciate is that 99 out of 100 people don’t want me in their house showing them how I can cut leather with a butter knife. You know why? Cuz shut up, that’s why. Who’s cutting strips of leather with their butter knife? Who’s been sitting at home, potentially for years, wanting a new butter knife, desperate for a new butter knife, but just totally unsure of how well that butter knife will stand up to a scrap of leather and because of that, because of that crippling uncertainty about the state of that butter knife they’ve become a prisoner in their own home, unable to venture forth to get that knife until seemingly by the grace of God, I actually bring the knife of their dreams to them so that they can finally, for the first time in 17 years, get a night full of peaceful, anxiety-free sleep surrounded by tiny pieces of cut of leather? Fuckin’ no one. No one at all.

My seminar was basically a sales pitch with a fruit plate and free pop, or soda, if you will. Delicious canned beverages to ply us and make us think spending $145 on our starter kit would be awesome. We all got together after the pitch to test the goods for ourselves. In partners we cut scraps of leather and rope. And, the coup de grace, we used the kitchen shears to cut a penny. Astounded? Covered in spontaneous love syrup? Let me back track.

Cutco makes kitchen shears. You can cut pennies with them. Fin.

So, after dropping actual cash on a kit of my own knives, leather scraps and rope and with a pocketful pf pennies, I was ready to go out and sell knives for a kick ass base pay plus commission. To whom, you ask? Why, friends and family of course, the only people somewhat likely to actually let me in.

Day 1

Knowing what you know of me, surely you know where I went first. To Wizo’s mom. Now is not the time nor the place to discuss the loins from which Wizo sprang, but rest assured Wizo was no fluke of genetics. His mother once had a pet pig named Madame Ching that lived in the basement and was fond of a video she found online featuring a man in latex pants evacuating his bowels. Which is to say a vid of a dude in rubber pants shitting himself. They also had a tombstone in the garden. Go figure.

Naturally this seemed like the best place I could go to sell some shit. I think I even wore a tie. Sometimes I make very little sense. Anyways, I showed up and rattled off my sales pitch. I cut leather. Wizo’s mom smoked and made jokes at my expense. I cut a penny into a corkscrew and she fuckin’ loved it. Everyone loves that shit for like 3 seconds, then they wonder what they need scissors that can cut pennies for. Regular scissors work just fine. These bitches are like $40. A half hour later I had exposed myself as a complete idiot to my friend’s mother and made no money. Day 1 was a bust.

Day 2

I realized Wizo’s mom was not the best target for a sale. I needed someone more likely to actually want to cut pennies into corkscrews. Unfortunately I don’t know anyone who’s that insane and wealthy. Also, few people are returning my calls. Did I mention I’ve been calling people and asking if I can come over? Yeah, I have to do that.

I finally hook my friend Chris’ mom. She’s not insane so I don’t feel hopeful. I repeat my same horrible shtick from the day before and, in a stunning twist, she’s actually interested in a knife. One knife. A decision must be made.

In two days I’ve called pretty much everyone I know. Two people allowed me into their homes and at this point it seems I may be able to sell one knife. It’s worth about $20. I could fill out some big ass order form and send it in and have that knife shipped here in a matter of days. Or I could just hand the knife I have over and get $20. I leave with $20 in my pocket.

Day 3

The biggest day of my knife selling career so far, I have not one but two sales pitches lined up. My mom, and this guy I know. This guy I know doesn’t even get through the whole thing as he just agreed to it as a favor because I’m supposed to meet some shitty quota each week for sales pitches I make. I talk for like five minutes, I cut a penny, we have a beer and watch football with some other friends. I still have my stupid tie on.

Later, I half ass the pitch to my mom. At this point she’s seen me cut about $2 worth of pennies into jagged, dangerous curls of metal that are now laying all over the house. Tiny scraps of leather are everywhere. Despite my unprofessional and lazy demeanor, my mother decides she wants some knives. Like 4 or 5 of them, including those scissors. I could fill out some big ass order form and send it in and have those knives shipped here in a matter of days. Or I could just take the $100 or so now. I go to my room with $100 and 2 knives. I’m out of leather scraps and I have no one left I can call. Part of each pitch was to ask for referrals, to actually get people to sit through my bullshit presentation and then recommend their own friends to me who might want to sit through it also. I got no referrals. I am an awful salesman. I quit.

Yes, my life as a Cutco sales rep lasted for three days. I sold most of my knives, I placed no official orders and I wasted a lot of pennies which is OK because pennies are like philosophy degrees, which is to say they’re good for nothing except scraping your ass clean in a pinch. Vector never paid me for the couple of hours I officially worked, probably because they suck. I took the hit to my wallet and moved on with life, comfortable in the knowledge I had held a job for less time than anyone I knew.