you’re doing all these things to sell that you’re alright. that you’re okay. It seems that everybody can buy anything, cause no one stood there to read the small print, the small creases on your forehead, the small things thing son your face. so you may be a good salesman. but to me, your average. you’re worse than average cause I saw right through you.
The salesman knocked on the pale cream door, and wiped his hands on his pants. He rehearsed his lines under his breath as he waited for someone to answer. The door creaked open, revealing a young boy with his mother. “Yes?”
“Not only that, but I-” the door shut on the man’s bright smile, plastered so hard one would think it was a bad botox injection. However, when the door closed, so did his mouth.
He was done. So very done. That was the last house on the block, and another wasted time of trying to get food on the table.
For the first time in a while, he felt like crying.
Julie
The Bible salesman came to my door once again. This time I listened politely to his message, noticing that been perfected by repetition, even though it was so often ignored. Still, I did not purchase one of his books. Kindly sending him away, and shutting the door I realized why I never bought one of those navy-blue felt books with a golden cross on the front. No parable, letter, prayer, or miraculous tale could ever give me grace or bring me peace. No Bible salesman could save me.
When I was younger, I always liked to mess with the salesmen who came to our door. I would peek through the windows to see who was there, and if he was wearing one of those signature shirts with a logo, you all know the ones, I would scream bloody murder and claw at the door, pretending to be derranged.
Kit Johnson
The salesman sat down in his chair, picked up his glasses and placed them gingerly on his nose. He heaved a great sigh. After a few minutes of staring at the only photograph on his desk, he opened the top drawer and rifled through the contents to pull out an ancient looking flip phone.
Robyn
Salesmen are always annoying. They’re almost like Jehovah’s Witnesses (not being racist or anything, just comparing), stopping by your door selling stuff you probably dont want to buy and hear, and you regret opening the door in the first place. Probably good people, and they’re just doing they’re jobs. Least they’re not as bad as lawyers…
The salesman knocked on the door. Again. I peered between the cheap plastic blinds to the front porch where he stood. He wiped beads of sweat off his forehead and swept back a piece of his come-over hairstyle that had fallen forward. His grubby hands took out a pamphlet and hung it on my door knob. As I watched him turn to leave I released a sigh of relief.
The car salesman seemed totally innocuous at first. Just like any other man of his kind, he told us all the perks of this model, and that one, suggested each car to us in turn. I never would have expected him to be a serial killer. Ah well, live and learn.
the salesman worked at the store on the corner. people would come in and ask him for help, but he was very sad because he actually wanted to be a chief. He was stuck being a salesman so was very rude toward the customers. One day, his boss fired him and he was free to do whatever he wanted for the rest of his life.
Clare Highland
“Now you gotta be careful of that one,” she says, jerking her thumb towards the man in the white suit, “he’s a real smooth talker there. He can have you eating maggots and believing it’s bread.”
The salesman had worn his new grey suit that day, and he looked down at it anxiously as he clutched the manila envelope. Its contents would soon change his life. He took a deep breath for what felt like the third time in twenty seconds and bravely entered the boardroom.
Hope
There was a knock at the door. She whipped around, feeling her heart grow with impending doom. “They’re here,” whispered her friend. Nervously, she approached the window, peeking through the curtains at the smiling face on the other side of the door. She shook. “The salesmen…”
overlordy
he closed the door of the shiny new buick without a thought and started up the sidewalk. his leather hands gripped his leather briefcase handle and his leather shoes clapped on the cold cement beneath him. his breath grew short and he pulled his face into a smile. “one day,” he thought.
Paul
I was a salesman, peddling my wares to an unsuspecting public, who did not even know they were buying. Lies, deception, promises made to be broken, these were my goods in trade.
tonykeyesjapan
you didn’t have to sell yourself to me,
give me a 5-year guarantee,
and a return policy.
The Devil is a salesman. He makes things you don’t want look pretty and the other guy look like the enemy. He shows you magic tricks and perfect facades,making is so easy to buy his wares. And you never know the cost until you’re paying out the ass for it.
so annoying! salesmen are always trying to take take take! why can’t they ever try and sell you something that you actually want or need?! Here buy some joy or happiness or love. That would be awesome! And well just really cool.
betsi
The salesman knocked punctually at the door. His tie was straight, his shoes bright, his hair impeccably styled in the ways of the 50’s. On the curb was parked his classic car, shiny and bright so that he could be proud of it. In his suitcase he carried his life’s blood.
The woman came to the door, a harassed look in her eyes. (END TIME) “What?” Behind her were the sounds of squalling toddlers.
“Hello, Ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat. “I was just wondering if you would take the time to allow me to show you the most wonderful thing since sliced bread.”
She squinted at him suspiciously. “What are you supposed to be? Is this some joke?”
“No, Ma’am, it’s no joke. I’m a genuine salesman and I’m here to help all your problems just disappear.” A smile flashed onto his face. “If you’ll let me of course.”
Salesman on the phone,
I answer, recognize the pitch and groan.
Salesman at the door,
“No time, sir!” I said but really he was a bore.
Salesman at the counter,
I feign a smile, and eagerly leave with my flounder.
Salesman in the mirror,
As I pull closer my visage is clearer.
Saleswoman with me at the printer,
“See you later dear, stoked for dinner!”
the guy who pitches ideas,
you know the one who comes too your door,
and tries to get you to buy something,
you only see him so often,
once or maybe twice a year,
and you wish you could see him more.
Once apon a time
I met the ultimate car salesman. You know what car salesman are like. Nuclear war could break out, and they would still be trying to sell you a car. Well, this guy was so focused on clinching a sale I honestly think nothing short of an atomic bomb would have distracted him from selling cars He was getting pretty annoying so i said give me a break man and went to another car yard and bought a car . In the end i liked the car
adil
Salesmen like money. Moneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey.
rewefwewfdsfdfsffsfsdfsfsdfsdfffsfsfsfd
salesman are cool they A sale is the act of selling a product or service in return for money or other compensation.[1] It is an act of completion of a commercial activity.
The seller or salesperson – the provider of the goods or services – completes a sale in response to an acquisition or to an appropriation[citation needed] or to a request. There follows the passing of title (property or ownership) in the item, and the application and due settlement of a price, the obligation for which arises due to the seller’s requirement to pass ownership. Ideally, a seller agrees upon a price at which he willingly parts with ownership of or any claim upon the item. The purchaser, though a party to the sale, does not execute the sale, only the seller does that. To be precise the sale completes prior to the payment and gives rise to the obligation of payment. If the seller completes the first two above stages (consent and passing ownership) of the sale prior to settlement of the price, the sale remains valid and gives rise to an obligation to pay.
adil
in drama class we read a play called something salesman and I dont really remember what its about but it has something to do with a famous writer i think… i dont know used car salesman and those guys are annoying because theyre all up in you grill
Sarah Hamilton
I don’t know what to say about a sales man, they work so hard and they don’t get much appreciation for their work
nicolle Perez
“Come on, try it!” He smirked, and held out his hand expectantly.
Slapping his hand away, I tried to wrestle out of his grip, but his hand tightened onto my arm, drawing me back.
“You’re a terrible salesman if it requires force to get people to buy from you.” I snarled, but his smirk remained firmly in place. “Is that how you managed it?” I shrieked, feeling the hysteria that had been building for weeks quickly leaping toward the boiling point. “Did you FORCE Anna to be an addict?!”
Pulled the hat closer over his eyes, and his collar up, shielding against the beating rain. Hoisted his bag over his should, its weight pulling him unevenly. Walked down the street to the next door. Knocked, knowing he would find yet another unwilling encyclopedia customer. Damn that internet, he thought. Damn it to hell.
Death of a Salesman? Travelling salesman? There was some slide on one of my Java class powerpoints about a travelling salesman. Had something to do with finding the shortest path and minimum spanning trees and that stuff. Fun times.
I am a traveling salesman. I travel all over the world, selling my product and meeting people of many cultures. I have learned thirty languages through my trade and have traveled to sixty different countries. I have met five thousand people and I wouldn’t want to do anything else!
Her eyes stared at the phone while it rang. She shifted from the couch and walked lazily to the phone. Picking it up she heard the recording and already regrets answering it. It was the stupid salesman that calls once a week. She slammed the phone back down with a grunt and went to her comfy couch.
He was tall, with dark hair and dark skin that stretched across his face like leather; he wore a mustache and large dark rimed glasses that went with his large nose, a distinct nose of his Sicilian decent; all this made it look as thought he wore a funny face disguise one would find in a costume store and to top it all off he wore a narrow brimmed hat that was checkered with black and white and yellow.
kevin queen
Her eyes stared at the phone while it ran. She shifted from the couch and walked lazily to the phone. Picking it up she heard the recording and already regrets answering it. It was the stupid salesman that calls once a week. She slammed the phone back down and went to her comfy couch.
His salesman smile made me sick. The corners of his smile created dimples. For Gods sake were not just dealing with anything right now. Bombs separated us on a small circular table. People were going to die and that was no laughing matter.
a person who’s job is to sale a certain product. this person can be either a man or a woman. they give a spiel on the product they are trying to sale so the potential buyer can purchase the product that’s trying to be sold.
Raymond Caballero
“Disgraceful–travelling salesmen didn’t have to worry about getting shot at back in my day.”
“Dad, salesmen used to have to travel thousands of miles and fend of highway men and marauders and maybe be beheaded along the way for salt”
“Nope.”
Somewhere in the room you snorted, covering it politely with a cough.
He wore a cheap suit and when he smiled it was just as if a shark was smiling at you. When you walked away you took junk and left behind more than just money. Honesty and trust and a part of your pride because you smiled and nodded your head and agreed with everything said.
Nicola Pike
You are offering me something I do not want, and I will politely listen until you are finished with your script and well rehearsed lines. Then I will smile, shake my head, and close the door in your face. I am not buying it, or you, and especially not that suit you’re wearing.
you’re doing all these things to sell that you’re alright. that you’re okay. It seems that everybody can buy anything, cause no one stood there to read the small print, the small creases on your forehead, the small things thing son your face. so you may be a good salesman. but to me, your average. you’re worse than average cause I saw right through you.
The salesman knocked on the pale cream door, and wiped his hands on his pants. He rehearsed his lines under his breath as he waited for someone to answer. The door creaked open, revealing a young boy with his mother. “Yes?”
“Not only that, but I-” the door shut on the man’s bright smile, plastered so hard one would think it was a bad botox injection. However, when the door closed, so did his mouth.
He was done. So very done. That was the last house on the block, and another wasted time of trying to get food on the table.
For the first time in a while, he felt like crying.
The Bible salesman came to my door once again. This time I listened politely to his message, noticing that been perfected by repetition, even though it was so often ignored. Still, I did not purchase one of his books. Kindly sending him away, and shutting the door I realized why I never bought one of those navy-blue felt books with a golden cross on the front. No parable, letter, prayer, or miraculous tale could ever give me grace or bring me peace. No Bible salesman could save me.
When I was younger, I always liked to mess with the salesmen who came to our door. I would peek through the windows to see who was there, and if he was wearing one of those signature shirts with a logo, you all know the ones, I would scream bloody murder and claw at the door, pretending to be derranged.
The salesman sat down in his chair, picked up his glasses and placed them gingerly on his nose. He heaved a great sigh. After a few minutes of staring at the only photograph on his desk, he opened the top drawer and rifled through the contents to pull out an ancient looking flip phone.
Salesmen are always annoying. They’re almost like Jehovah’s Witnesses (not being racist or anything, just comparing), stopping by your door selling stuff you probably dont want to buy and hear, and you regret opening the door in the first place. Probably good people, and they’re just doing they’re jobs. Least they’re not as bad as lawyers…
The salesman knocked on the door. Again. I peered between the cheap plastic blinds to the front porch where he stood. He wiped beads of sweat off his forehead and swept back a piece of his come-over hairstyle that had fallen forward. His grubby hands took out a pamphlet and hung it on my door knob. As I watched him turn to leave I released a sigh of relief.
The car salesman seemed totally innocuous at first. Just like any other man of his kind, he told us all the perks of this model, and that one, suggested each car to us in turn. I never would have expected him to be a serial killer. Ah well, live and learn.
the salesman worked at the store on the corner. people would come in and ask him for help, but he was very sad because he actually wanted to be a chief. He was stuck being a salesman so was very rude toward the customers. One day, his boss fired him and he was free to do whatever he wanted for the rest of his life.
“Now you gotta be careful of that one,” she says, jerking her thumb towards the man in the white suit, “he’s a real smooth talker there. He can have you eating maggots and believing it’s bread.”
The salesman had worn his new grey suit that day, and he looked down at it anxiously as he clutched the manila envelope. Its contents would soon change his life. He took a deep breath for what felt like the third time in twenty seconds and bravely entered the boardroom.
There was a knock at the door. She whipped around, feeling her heart grow with impending doom. “They’re here,” whispered her friend. Nervously, she approached the window, peeking through the curtains at the smiling face on the other side of the door. She shook. “The salesmen…”
he closed the door of the shiny new buick without a thought and started up the sidewalk. his leather hands gripped his leather briefcase handle and his leather shoes clapped on the cold cement beneath him. his breath grew short and he pulled his face into a smile. “one day,” he thought.
I was a salesman, peddling my wares to an unsuspecting public, who did not even know they were buying. Lies, deception, promises made to be broken, these were my goods in trade.
you didn’t have to sell yourself to me,
give me a 5-year guarantee,
and a return policy.
All my life I was told that I would be good in sales. I was told that I could sell ice to an Eskimo with my smile. But the truth is, I hate sales.
As she walked through the store she felt eyes upon her. She wasn’t sure where they were coming from until she turned. And there he was, the salesman.
The Devil is a salesman. He makes things you don’t want look pretty and the other guy look like the enemy. He shows you magic tricks and perfect facades,making is so easy to buy his wares. And you never know the cost until you’re paying out the ass for it.
so annoying! salesmen are always trying to take take take! why can’t they ever try and sell you something that you actually want or need?! Here buy some joy or happiness or love. That would be awesome! And well just really cool.
The salesman knocked punctually at the door. His tie was straight, his shoes bright, his hair impeccably styled in the ways of the 50’s. On the curb was parked his classic car, shiny and bright so that he could be proud of it. In his suitcase he carried his life’s blood.
The woman came to the door, a harassed look in her eyes. (END TIME) “What?” Behind her were the sounds of squalling toddlers.
“Hello, Ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat. “I was just wondering if you would take the time to allow me to show you the most wonderful thing since sliced bread.”
She squinted at him suspiciously. “What are you supposed to be? Is this some joke?”
“No, Ma’am, it’s no joke. I’m a genuine salesman and I’m here to help all your problems just disappear.” A smile flashed onto his face. “If you’ll let me of course.”
Salesman on the phone,
I answer, recognize the pitch and groan.
Salesman at the door,
“No time, sir!” I said but really he was a bore.
Salesman at the counter,
I feign a smile, and eagerly leave with my flounder.
Salesman in the mirror,
As I pull closer my visage is clearer.
Saleswoman with me at the printer,
“See you later dear, stoked for dinner!”
the guy who pitches ideas,
you know the one who comes too your door,
and tries to get you to buy something,
you only see him so often,
once or maybe twice a year,
and you wish you could see him more.
Once apon a time
I met the ultimate car salesman. You know what car salesman are like. Nuclear war could break out, and they would still be trying to sell you a car. Well, this guy was so focused on clinching a sale I honestly think nothing short of an atomic bomb would have distracted him from selling cars He was getting pretty annoying so i said give me a break man and went to another car yard and bought a car . In the end i liked the car
Salesmen like money. Moneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey.
salesman are cool they A sale is the act of selling a product or service in return for money or other compensation.[1] It is an act of completion of a commercial activity.
The seller or salesperson – the provider of the goods or services – completes a sale in response to an acquisition or to an appropriation[citation needed] or to a request. There follows the passing of title (property or ownership) in the item, and the application and due settlement of a price, the obligation for which arises due to the seller’s requirement to pass ownership. Ideally, a seller agrees upon a price at which he willingly parts with ownership of or any claim upon the item. The purchaser, though a party to the sale, does not execute the sale, only the seller does that. To be precise the sale completes prior to the payment and gives rise to the obligation of payment. If the seller completes the first two above stages (consent and passing ownership) of the sale prior to settlement of the price, the sale remains valid and gives rise to an obligation to pay.
in drama class we read a play called something salesman and I dont really remember what its about but it has something to do with a famous writer i think… i dont know used car salesman and those guys are annoying because theyre all up in you grill
I don’t know what to say about a sales man, they work so hard and they don’t get much appreciation for their work
“Come on, try it!” He smirked, and held out his hand expectantly.
Slapping his hand away, I tried to wrestle out of his grip, but his hand tightened onto my arm, drawing me back.
“You’re a terrible salesman if it requires force to get people to buy from you.” I snarled, but his smirk remained firmly in place. “Is that how you managed it?” I shrieked, feeling the hysteria that had been building for weeks quickly leaping toward the boiling point. “Did you FORCE Anna to be an addict?!”
Pulled the hat closer over his eyes, and his collar up, shielding against the beating rain. Hoisted his bag over his should, its weight pulling him unevenly. Walked down the street to the next door. Knocked, knowing he would find yet another unwilling encyclopedia customer. Damn that internet, he thought. Damn it to hell.
Death of a Salesman? Travelling salesman? There was some slide on one of my Java class powerpoints about a travelling salesman. Had something to do with finding the shortest path and minimum spanning trees and that stuff. Fun times.
I am a traveling salesman. I travel all over the world, selling my product and meeting people of many cultures. I have learned thirty languages through my trade and have traveled to sixty different countries. I have met five thousand people and I wouldn’t want to do anything else!
Her eyes stared at the phone while it rang. She shifted from the couch and walked lazily to the phone. Picking it up she heard the recording and already regrets answering it. It was the stupid salesman that calls once a week. She slammed the phone back down with a grunt and went to her comfy couch.
He was tall, with dark hair and dark skin that stretched across his face like leather; he wore a mustache and large dark rimed glasses that went with his large nose, a distinct nose of his Sicilian decent; all this made it look as thought he wore a funny face disguise one would find in a costume store and to top it all off he wore a narrow brimmed hat that was checkered with black and white and yellow.
Her eyes stared at the phone while it ran. She shifted from the couch and walked lazily to the phone. Picking it up she heard the recording and already regrets answering it. It was the stupid salesman that calls once a week. She slammed the phone back down and went to her comfy couch.
His salesman smile made me sick. The corners of his smile created dimples. For Gods sake were not just dealing with anything right now. Bombs separated us on a small circular table. People were going to die and that was no laughing matter.
a person who’s job is to sale a certain product. this person can be either a man or a woman. they give a spiel on the product they are trying to sale so the potential buyer can purchase the product that’s trying to be sold.
“Disgraceful–travelling salesmen didn’t have to worry about getting shot at back in my day.”
“Dad, salesmen used to have to travel thousands of miles and fend of highway men and marauders and maybe be beheaded along the way for salt”
“Nope.”
Somewhere in the room you snorted, covering it politely with a cough.
He wore a cheap suit and when he smiled it was just as if a shark was smiling at you. When you walked away you took junk and left behind more than just money. Honesty and trust and a part of your pride because you smiled and nodded your head and agreed with everything said.
You are offering me something I do not want, and I will politely listen until you are finished with your script and well rehearsed lines. Then I will smile, shake my head, and close the door in your face. I am not buying it, or you, and especially not that suit you’re wearing.