As I completed my Superman comic book, I turned
to the last page which was a bizarre honky-tonk assortment of little square
advertisements for a wide assortment of curious products. You could buy a Whoopie
Cushion or a plastic snake to scare your sister, or a steel Slinky that would
crawl down your stairs; you could even buy a real live exotic squirrel monkey
for the exorbitant sum of $14.99! My eyes wandered over to an advertisement for
The Cheerful Card Company promising the inconceivable sum of $100 that could be
earned by selling 100 boxes of Christmas cards in the months leading up to the
holidays.
That night after dinner I broached the subject
with my parents who approved of the enterprise, presumably surmising that it
would be a good learning experience. They agreed to help me get started.
My lips were dry and butterflies fluttered
furiously in my stomach. I had put on my Sunday clothes and polished my dress
shoes in order to make a good impression on my potential customers as a
representative of The Cheerful Card Company. At a one dollar commission for
each box sold, the incentive was extremely motivating to a twelve year old boy.
It took me a seven day week of delivering the Daily News and the Times on Sundays,
which was as thick as a telephone book, to earn twelve dollars a week! I now
envisioned that it would be possible to own the entire collection of plastic Aurora
Knight models from the Maspeth Hobby Center, in addition to a whole platoon of
lead soldiers purchased with my own money at Woolworths and new missiles for my
Robot Commando who had carelessly lost his. With my face, hands and nails
scrubbed, and with my teeth and hair brushed, and dress clothes on, I had
pushed the envelope and realized a previously unrealized level of personal
hygiene and fashion acumen!
I knocked on many doors without reply, occasionally
a window blind would be lifted and quickly dropped again, or I would find an eyeball
staring at me through a peephole. It was as if I had just been released from
prison and were looking for work.The next house was a family named Schumacher.
I pressed the bell. I could hear some commotion inside and finally a young
woman came to the door looking somewhat harried with messy hair and a scared
look of chaos and panic in her eyes that somehow told me she could be my first
customer.
“Hello, may I help you?” she asked, running
away momentarily to separate two little cherubs who were attempting to kill
each other.
“Hi, sorry about that, they are driving me
crazy today. Four boys in a row, what are the odds?”
I avoided answering this rhetorical question to
get right to my speech.
“Hello Mrs. Schumacher. Do you realize that it
is only 120 days to Christmas? Luckily, I have just the thing to avoid one more
chore in delivering this lovely assortment of beautiful Christmas cards to you
today for the very reasonable sum of $3.50!”
As I finished my rehearsed speech a
transformation came over Mrs. Schumacher’s face, and not the expression of relieved
elation that I had expected.
“Oh no is it really that soon that another
burden added to my plate?” Mrs. Schumacher reflected and then pivoted on her
heel to stop two little imps in the act. “Joey stop hanging your brother by his
foot,” screamed the overwrought Mrs. Schumacher! “Excuse me young man, but this
is a bad time, not that there is a good time, but Thursday is my husband’s payday
so if you come back Friday, I will buy a box of cards from you.”
“Ok Mrs.Schumacher I will come back on Friday,
thank you!”
I wondered if this was the bums rush or would I
make my first sale.
“Young man, I have a list of chores as long as
my arm that my husband hasn’t gotten to yet. I will pay you two dollars an hour
if you are interested in completing some of them?”
I expressed my appreciation and gratitude.
“Great, bring your box of cards but wear work
clothes so you don’t ruin your Sunday best.
“Ok Mrs. Schumacher I’ll see you then!”
I had stumbled upon a goldmine of opportunity! I
was to be a wish fulfilling Genie completing desired chores as requested. Mrs.
Schumacher’s wish was my command. As I walked home, I calculated the enormous
sums that I could accumulate at the astronomical wage of $2.00 an hour from the
overwrought and overwhelmed Mrs. Schumacher. The entrepreneurial spirit was rekindled
in me and now burned brightly in my little capitalist mind. I had learned that
the job of a salesman was not an easy one, requiring patience and humility as
well as persistence, all the while remaining neat, clean and polite. Upon
reflection I thought that Mrs. Schumacher didn’t need the cards but purchased
them to secure some much needed help. I mowed the lawn and gardened. I painted
the garage and fence. I mastered masonry and cleaned up the porch making room
for a table that I later wrapped Christmas presents on and even filled out the
very same Christmas cards that I had sold to Mrs, Schumacher. I was always paid
in cash at the end of each day and was offered milk and cookies for my rest
break. I met Mr. Schumacher once as he came home from work looking very tired
in his suit and tie. He trudged past me as I repaired some brickwork on the
footpath. He smiled and thanked me for the help. As time passed and items were
checked off the Honey Do List, other new requests were added, leading to a
never ending supply of work. On October 16,1968 I walked into Maspeth Federal
Savings Bank with $50 and opened a savings account with Mr. Wadley, a large man
with a skinny tie who explained to me how compound interest worked. He
explained that interest made your money work for you as opposed to working for
your money. While I never made my $100 commission from The Cheerful Card
Company it was a great learning experience and taught me how to talk to people
and do business.
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