The Death of Enthusiasm

I know that a lot of things are the worst, right? Like, going to the dentist is the worst, or having to shoot your dog after he gets rabies is also the worst. But seriously, salesmen are the worst.

Granted, there are probably some salesmen out there that are not so much the worst, but generally they indeed are just the worst kind of person.

This week at work I found out that the "sub-office" I work in with ten other people is being taken over by the sales department and made into an office/lounge for two of the main sales guys. Sure, I'm a realist--I know that office politics dictate that things like this will happen, but these marketing guys make me wish I could go back in time to punch them in the face when they were little kids (it would be more traumatic that way) and then go even farther back in time and punch their mothers in the face before they were born (just out of spite).

You know these guys: always dressed in gym clothes with sweat bands in inexplicable places (really guy, do you need one on your ankle?), always wearing their North Carolina Tarheels ball caps backwards while looking up You Tube clips of last night's ball game, always talking about how sore their lats are from yesterday's workout...

They're so arrogant, but really they don't do anything but answer the phone and lie to old people. Hey good job man, you just tricked an 85-year-old lady into buying a warranty she'll never use and told her that the delivery guys will bring it into her house even though you know they won't. Screw her! Just because her doctor told her she needed to exercise more because of her hypertension doesn't mean you shouldn't employ some of those "closing tactics" you learned last summer lying to old people in Atlanta for APX! Your job is really something to be proud of at the end of the day, you know. You're making a difference!

I guess in the end it proves that people don't really change from the high school versions of themselves. These salesmen guys were scamming good grades out of their teachers and talking about fantasy football while I was drawing cartoons of my teachers getting pooped on by birds. Now, those guys get paid to be the best liars they can be (while sitting around talking about fantasy football), and I draw pictures of birds pooping on my college professors.

Moral of my story: If you are a salesman, don't lie to people because then nobody will respect you, not even your fellow salesmen, and late at night when your wife and children have gone to sleep you will feel a slithering sense of existential dread creeping over you like a terrible leaden blanket, and you will begin to think that underneath all those layers of fake handshakes, expensive colognes, and white-strip enhanced smiles--you have no idea who you've become.

Actual moral: I really don't want to move all my stuff to a new desk.

Labels: Chase the misanthrope, work