Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction March 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
THE SALESMAN
By Waldo T. Boyd
SALESMAN'S GUIDE, RULE 2: The modern 1995 customer whoenters Tracy's Department Store is not always right, but asfar as you are concerned, he is.
he little green cue light blinked three times. Trevor Anson arrangedhis tie at just the nattily precise angle, waved his hand before ahidden lighting-effect switch in the smooth marble pillar at theentrance to the display room, and faced the elevator. This would be a"green light" customer—a first-time prospect, and three blinksindicated a very difficult individual. Anson quickly practiced hismost beguiling smile.
"Welcome to Tracy's Roboid Department," he said, enthusiastically, asthe elevator doors slid open. His practiced smile was just right.
He quickly noted the man's conservative dress, the flaming red tie.Aggressive type, Anson decided. A shock of red hair that didn't wantto lie down hinted that he was stubborn as well.
"Heard you've got a sale on robots," Red-tie said, challengingly, ashe stepped aside for his wife.
The woman who stepped off the elevator smiled, showing a lovelydimple, and Anson beamed on her. The tiny flake of a hat perched atopher auburn hair reminded Anson of the comb on a Rhode Island Red.
"Not robots, sir," Anson corrected diplomatically. "The Plasti-CastRoboid is not exactly a robot."
"Well, anyhow, trot one out, and let's see what it looks like.Millicent will never be satisfied until she's seen one of the things."He glared dramatically in the general direction of his wife, whopretended not to notice.
Anson led them into the Gray Room. He mentally went over theapplicable rule: Rule 23; Always introduce the marked-downmerchandise first. It may provide the customer with an incentive forbuying something better.
"These are last year's models," he said, with just the right flavorof distaste in his voice. "Of course, you may expect a slightreduction ... a small percentage...."
Red-tie was muttering. "Damned mechanical things, full of wheels andwires. What's to keep 'em from running amok and killing us all!"
"But dear, they don't have wheels anymore," protested the woman,timidly. Her face was pretty, Anson decided, but it was obvious thatthe man would be the deciding factor in this sale.
He made a mental note: Rule 31: Pick the individual of a family groupwho seems to hold the deciding voice, and SELL! He remembered aportion of a sales talk he had memorized a few days before, and tookit up, almost chanting:
"... our Roboids are grown, much as crystals are grown, in great vatsin New Chicago. A Plasti-Cast Roboid is guaranteed...."
"A fat chance we'd have of collecting the guarantee if we were choppedinto mincemeat," Red-tie interrupted, shuddering slightly as theimplication of his own words hit him.
Anson felt a moment of panic as he failed to remember an applicablerule from the Salesman's Guide, but it formed in his mind at the lastmoment: Rule 18: Never argue with a customer—change the subject.
"Why don't you come with me to the Green Roo