Nassar Supply was a new contractor yard in the area where I graduated high school. They needed a salesman who could drive a forklift. When the contractor left their partnership, the remaining owner, an architect with no retail or yard operations experience, promoted me to Manager.
The agreement was contingent on seeing their business plan. Learning they didn't have one, I compared their current lumberyard business model with my vision of a home center, leveraging the owner's design background. Rebranding as Alpine Building Supply and Design, focusing on high-margin lines, we grossed over $1M in our first year. A wholesale distributor in Wausau then poached me for adventures in B2B sales.
My territory, the central third of Wisconsin, was in the cellar when I began. Dave, who managed the eastern third, kindly showed me the ropes. Learning my predecessor had built an Amway business for himself at Sequoia Supply's expense ended my initial struggle. B2B sales became fun and easy by resetting expectations.
Helping clients run ads for truckload sales on the weekend, I'd show up to help them sell to their customers. Dave belonged to my tribe, a hippie who helped me learn the roots of blues and rock music. He filled my briefcase with mix tapes burned from his massive collection.
Then, back home for the holidays, I caught a life-changing ride with The Hound.
During rides to high school in his '64 Impala SS, my neighbor Mark (a.k.a. The Hound) and I often discussed our shared passions, like music, cars, and [ redacted ]. From his brother's hi-fi shop, he hooked me up with the stereo for the Duster and a home system with a pair of speakers that still piss off the neighbors. Riding shotgun on our way to a party, this time in his '74 Challenger, he shared he was now a retail video manager in Milwaukee, selling TVs, camcorders, and VCRs. He asked if I wanted to play. Boy howdy!
With four big-box stores selling electronics, furniture, and appliances, American TV of Madison was ranked 7th nationally in electronics sales. My first formal sales training, the One Minute Salesman course, was taught here by Chris, a sales coach who'd created the legendary "Ice-storm Promotion" for Lenny when he sold radio advertising. Leveling up my sales skills while working for one of America's greatest pitchmen, I learned advertising by osmosis.
Massive ad campaigns in area newspapers and on local TV featured value-added promotions and regularly resorted to stunts like Lenny riding down a ski hill, seated in a Broyhill recliner. During Memorial and Labor Day weekends, the annual "Get a bike! Get a bike! Get a bike!" promo brought in so many folks from surrounding states that we would give away more 15-speed bikes than the top bike retailer would sell all year.
A computerized inventory system was installed, eliminating the daily walk to the warehouse to check inventory. Finessing the system to invisibly transfer merchandise to my store helped me maintain top-seller status. Their commission plan remains the fairest I've ever worked under.
Setting up delivery of his mom's console TV, a used car buyer from a local dealership asked me when my next day off would be. Learning that, he asked to use the house phone on the column. "You ought to be selling cars, kid," Jim said, handing me a sales manager's card with "2:00 pm Thursday" scrawled across the back. "Wally will get a kick out of you. Thanks for your help with the Zenith, eh?"
Wilde was Wisconsin's largest Honda dealer, advertising as aggressively as they recruited. Before hitting the floor, you had to pass the WATDA (Wisconsin Auto & Truck Dealers Association) certification, proctored by Chris. Yep, the same one. Wally's holistic approach complimented my conversational style well enough to sell over 270 cars a year. Then, like a chump, I jumped ship.
An international racing legend was opening a new Honda dealership, and my friend Dave had already landed there. Going from hired to fired took just six weeks when an old pal of my new boss wanted a job. They put him at my desk, he put my stuff in a box, and they put me out on the street. Outselling half of their staff in my first month, I learned performance offers no protection from such fuckery.
With life raining lemons, I made lemonade and went to find the guy with the rum. A skills-assessment workshop required by the state for the dole suggested selling aircraft parts or advertising. Adjourning to a nearby watering hole and ordering a longneck, I pondered the self-awareness gained in my first peep through the Johari window.
