In the days before the "eggs"
that are now sold with rolled up pantyhose inside, stockings came in thin white
cardboard boxes lined with tissue paper.
Each pair had printed on the edge of the box the gauge; the color and
the size. When the customer would ask to
see her desired choice; we would open the box;
fold back the tissue paper; slowly
slip our hand inside the top of the stocking and gracefully show the sheerness
of the gauge. Displaying the stocking
was an art and long fingers with lovely polished fingernails at the end of each
digit was essential to show off Miss Johnson's stock. While I had the nicely polished fingernails,
I couldn't change the length of my fingers, and I suspect that is why I was
moved into the sweater department where I excelled in form and deed. There,
I had no trouble displaying the beautiful colors; keeping the stock in orderly piles when
called upon to show it and explaining the merits of Wool over cotton....or over
anything else.
Jessie McGuire, was my Sweater
manager, slightly older by two or three yrs. and six inches shorter. She was what we would now call a dynamo
except the word wasn't used in that respect then. Miss McGuire was neatly packaged into a neat frame
of 4'10". She was a pretty curly headed brunette with
blue eyes, extremely efficient and charming.
She caught the eye of all Arnold Constable's single male
counterparts....even some who were not so single. To make up for her short stature she balanced
herself on three inch high heels and walked quickly over the mosaic floors. (I can still hear the click click click of
those heels as she passed between the Sweater and Blouse aisle, heading for the
stock room where she took her break.)
Salesgirls were not allowed to sit
down behind the counter. Indeed, there
were no seats. We had to be on our feet,
always ready to answer any questions the customers had. Talking to friends or relatives that came in
to chat or to guys that came in to ask for a date, was strictly frowned upon so
it had to be done surreptitiously while informing the "customer" of
the quality and color of Arnold
Constable's newest wool cardigan. Mr.
Edgbert was the floor walker who kept constant vigil making sure we all played
strictly by the company rules. My sales
experience of always being kind and friendly to customers was learned and
highly developed within the walls of the Arnold Constable establishment, which
proves you can always learn something valuable from every job - even from
selling in a department store.
A move to California
to help in the Country's war effort ended my career with A.C. and I again took
up my chosen profession of selling... but this time it was in a hole in the
wall in the small town of Richmond,
outside of San Francisco. It was one shop really, divided in half, down
the middle with a photographer on one side and a jeweler on the other. I was the photographer but to call me that
was quite a laugh because it was one of those places where you got five
pictures for a quarter - or was it .50 cents?
There wasn't much selling involved.
I just had to place the customer on a stool, turn on the lights; stand
by the small door and push a button five times; enter the door; put the film in a solution and wait for the
image to develop. Our customer's were
mostly from the armed forces and it was easy to please the boys. No real selling, but a steady flow of
customers and lots of fun!
A side benefit was what I learned
in the art of selling from listening to the technique of the jeweler's wife,
Stella. She invariably looked at the
watch coming in for repairs, and before giving any information as to why it
didn't keep good time, her declaration was that it was dirty and had to be
cleaned first.....".and that will be $14.95". I suppose each industry has it's nuances but
this put me wise in the years to come whenever I entered a jewelry store to be
on guard for the standard response of cost repair.
The war ended before we
experienced a full year and our return trip back to the East coast was made
without needing to use any gas rationing coupons. Gas flowed from every pump at the gas station
which was a welcome surprise!
Marriage and four children kept me
in the hospital, the kitchen and the house over a span of some time but
eventually my husband needed help with the finances. I wanted to be an at home Mom so with furniture and other goods supplied by
relatives and friends I held garage sales which was a fairly new industry just
starting up. The popularity of my yard sales was so great that at each sale we
had to stretch a rope across the end of the driveway to keep the customers at
bay until the appointed hour of opening.
Quite often there were 10 or more people waiting. I would giggle behind the garage door
thinking it was not unlike opening up Macy's Department store. Selling and redistributing those things was
easy but eventually I ran out of my own stock of collectibles and was then
thrown into the business of Estate sales when friends would ask me to sell
their things. I usually took a
commission of 15 percent... which was good money then. My selling acumen reached fever pitch during
this period and many chapters could be written giving the interesting
experiences of trying to please both customers and owners. It was often necessary and at the same time
difficult to fend off buyers who wanted to come ahead of the pack with stories
like this : "My sister is having
her kidney stone operation tomorrow ..... so could we see what you have for
sale today?" Needless to say, I
learned to say politely that, "I advertised antiques and if I sold them
the day before the sale, my ad would not be truthful...so please come back
tomorrow." And then there is always
the question of: " You are asking
$15.00 for this, can you do better?"
Smiling, I would often say, "Yes,..... how about $15.50?" One has to know just how to handle that
question. If the item is fairly priced
one can hold steady but the trick is to size up the customer and know just when
to fold and when not to fold. It's a fun
lesson of jovial repartee in dealing with buyers and I thoroughly enjoy the
exercise.
Real Estate was another try. I joined a Century One Agency and listed one
house - the lovey home of a dear friend who wanted to move back to California. When the house sold a month or so later, as
the listing agent I received a commission of
$900. Wow! "That was easy", I thought! The check was signed by the manager of the
branch and I gleefully went to the bank to cash it, but it bounced! I was told by the bank teller, that I could
come back in a few days and try again.... OR.... I could go back to the Agency
and complain. I chose to do that but
the "50 something" manager's young 23 yr. old wife was there - 8 month's pregnant. I was told to put the check in again on
Tuesday. I tried, but again the bank
teller said there were still no funds there to cover it. I knew I wouldn't stand a chance of getting
my money by appealing to the law before a judge with the very pregnant wife in
full view so I gathered my acting ability together and stormed the agency. The lady owner was the only one in the office
- no manager or wife. Thrusting the
bogus check before her, I gave an Academy Award performance announcing my
intention of suing the manager, the owner AND Century 21. She had no knowledge of what the Manager had
done. ...so she said. Whereupon I was
told to come back at 7:00 pm and she
would have the cash for me. I arrived
back at the exact hour and received all nine crisp one hundred dollar bills in
a white envelope. Thus I voluntarily
ended my R. E. selling experience with that Century 21 branch. What did I learn? I learned it's not always easy to receive
what was rightly mine, compensating me for my time and effort..... but I did
enjoy meeting the public.
After one Christmas season my husband
fell into bed with the words that he didn't know how we were going to pay the
bills. We owed both Sears Roebuck and
W.T. Grant over $100. each. (Lots of
money in 1965.) I resolved to try
selling (myself) the next morning and without telling my husband my plan, I rose early, dressed after he left for work
and headed first to Sears and the Manager's office. His secretary did what secretaries do
best.... she ran interference and wanted to know the nature of my
business. I gave her no explanation but
stated firmly that I wanted to speak privately to the Manager. Whereupon, after a few minutes of their
consulting with each other, I entered the brightly lit office of Mr. Angelone. He was a good looking Italian man, with rosy
red cheeks about my own age. He sat
quietly behind his desk and listened to my story. I poured it out. I explained how my husband was worried at not
being able to pay the bill and I wondered if I could work it off in some way in
some department. (Remember I had worked
for Arnold Constable years before.) He
was so moved, I thought he would be reduced to tears at my very unusual
proposal. I sat waiting for his
response. It came. He asked what I would like to do and I said,
"I'll do anything." He said,
it just so happened that the Coffee Shop needed a night manager because the
girls working there were giving away the hot dogs to their boy friends who came
in after school. He asked "Could
you work from 5 - 9 each day?" I
was given the job on the spot and I left carrying a size #12, white cotton
uniform to wear the very next day. With
joy, I raced home and skipped the thought of asking for a job at the the less
attractive store... W. T. Grant. When my husband arrived home at the end of
the day, he was very happy to hear my news.
After each pay day I marched into the Accounting office and handed over
my pay check until the entire bill was paid off. It only took two weeks. At the end of that time they asked me if I
would like to stay on and and so it was that I worked the next six months until
the school year ended and I was needed at home.
In the Fall they asked me to come back and I did that working again
until the next summer. They asked me a
third time for another six months, and at the end of that time they offered me
the Full Managerial roll of the Coffee Shop.
However, I had to decline because the daughter that was putting the
prepared meal on the table was going off to college in the Fall. The next oldest child was a boy and altho he
loved eating potatoes. he didn't know how to cook them. There remained the youngest boy who was too
young to set the table and do the dishes.
Ahhh.... but the lessons I learned during that chapter of my life were
many including: that Management valued
loyalty, honesty and dedication.
After being introduced to the
Market Place, so many years ago, with all these challenges, selling our house
of 44 years when downsizing was in order, was easy....not to mention selling
the various cars that have passed through our lives (and garage) as well. When you look around everyone is busy selling
.... from the hardware store to the bagel store; from the car salesman to the
funeral director; from the politician to the bartender; from the Medical Industry
and their pills to the NRA and their guns; from the girl on the street corner
to the big box stores; from the financial advisor to the guy with illegal
drugs.....from eBay to Crag’s List...from television advertisers to gullible
listeners......"Everyone is Selling Something"!
copyright June T. Bassemir, 2016
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