'Hi, this is Frank Granstino from the Financial Life Insurance Company, how are you today?'
'Okay,' the woman said hesitantly.
'Well, that's good! The reason I'm calling,' I said with a smile, 'is, I'm helping all the homeowners in your neighborhood with their life insurance needs. I'll be in your area Tuesday and Thursday. Which night would be better for me to drop by and introduce myself?'
'Neither! Why don't you get a real job, and stop bothering people!' she screamed as she slammed the phone down.
I proceeded to cross her name off my list so hard that the pen ripped the page. All in a day's work, I thought, as I closed my prospecting list.
Earlier, another woman - she must've been elderly blew a whistle into the phone. She blew it so loud that I had to switch ears on the next call. Maybe she thought I was a pervert or a weirdo. But that's the trouble with the phone book, you never can tell who you're going to reach.
Prospecting for new sales is tough. So far, my first six months in the business has been murder.
The district manager, Tom Somi, reminds me: 'Hey sport, you're only twenty-seven years old. Give the business a chance.'
'Enough of this!' I said, 'I already have an earache!' As I packed my briefcase, with calls still to be made. After I take a break for lunch, I'll drop in on some businesses in the area and leave my cards.
The district office was pretty quiet for a Monday, especially for a bright and sunny April day. As the experts say, 'You're in business for yourself, your time is your own.'
Now our manager, Tom Somi, is a tough man who screams a lot. Tom only wants to know, each week, total premiums and how many policies were sold by each of the forty sales representatives. He's a bottom-line type of guy, that no one wants to go up against.
Just this morning at our district meeting, Tom fired an agent. George Flayer had been with the company for two years. His first year was good, but his last six months were terrible. No sales, coupled with cancellations brought him down.
Of course Somi capitalized on the firing. He made George come in for the district meeting. Then right after our meeting he fires him, making George clean his desk out in front of everyone. Tom really is pond scum.
'Somi, that 'potato head', let me go!'
That's all George could say to me as he packed up his files.
With my legs up on my desk, leaning back in the chair, I realized that this business can be brutal.