Death of a Salesman

We sat in the conference room, that late Friday afternoon my three co-workers and me, our chairs pushed so closely together that our shoulders brushed. It was as if we were already consoling one another before the impending doom.

I glanced up at the large 70’s-styled mahogany wall clock which hung forlornly on the peeling gray wall and listened to its slow, steady, rhythmic TICK,TICK,TICK. In the past, I had always found this sound comforting. But today the ticking had a different affect. Rather than reassuring, it sounded tense and chaotic as if the clock too had joined in the worry, right along with the rest of us.

The magazine at which we worked was failing, short and simple. And if advertising revenue did not pick up, would close within the year.

We were warned of this possibility during past weekly meetings and this very morning I had noticed my boss, deep in conversation with the president of our company, Jarod Jameson. Jarod, a successful publisher was a true gentleman with a reserved but always respectful and polite demeanor. One of Mr. Jameson’s trademarks, was a meticulous fashion sense combined with impeccably good taste. His suits, always gray or navy, were tailor-made and the only slight departure he displayed in dress was a tidy Pocket Square, he wore tucked neatly into his jacket. He too demanded a certain standard of manners and neatness in his employees; dress down Fridays or jeans were never an option.

As I pondered the immediate need to update my resume, our boss suddenly entered the room. His mood was not downtrodden or depressed as expected, in fact, quite the opposite. He stood before us front and center expressing an aura of calm confidence. Clearing his throat he stretched out his arms in the direction of the conference room door and then, in a gesture of warm welcome announced theatrically:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Barry Barrows, salesman extraordinaire and the answer to our prayers!” And Barry, not missing a beat, entered the conference room gleefully with a jaunty two step and a million dollar smile.

The first thought that came to mind as I studied Barry Barrows, was of a ring master in a circus – sans the cane and top hat. He stood no more than 5 foot, four with a tuft of dark curly hair. His thick mustache whose ends tilted just ever so slightly upward, gave the illusion of a constant grin and framed a heavily lined face. His suit was jet black and wrinkled and emitted a satiny sheen more suited for a prom than business. His bright orange clip-on bow tie, lay askew. But it was his shoes that stood apart from the rest of his ensemble. Polished, shiny and sparkling new, in a tasteful brown leather and elegantly pointed toe. The one impressive item of his ensemble.

He stood before us, our savior. Hired as the magazine’s new Advertising Director he explained his lengthy and excellent reputation in the field of Advertising Sales. He was well known in the industry and famous for both his persistence and amount of face to face sales calls he was known to make in a single day. “Two things I love,” Barry told us with a wink, “Walking and Talking.” And somehow we all believed him.

True to his word he breezed past my desk on Monday morning, briefcase in hand, ready to slay the world. “A new record! Twenty-one appointments made and confirmed, and all before 4pm!” he crowed. And, the one thing I remember oh so clearly as he departed with an energy and optimism not to be under-estimated, was Barry Barrow’s sharp, new, snazzy shoes.

He returned to the office that fateful day at 5:30pm. Weary though elated he staggered up to my desk and told me, “It has been a most successful day!” Though as he uttered those words an expression of pain flashed across his face. “But right now I’m paying the price. I must have clocked over ten miles today, hoofing it all the way over the city. Why I saw both the Brooklyn Bridge and Central Park! Oh my feet! I tell you I’m dyin. Guess I should have broken in these new shoes..”

And the last vision I ever had of Barry Barrows was seeing him painstakingly limping down the hall, in the direction of the men’s room.

Some employees swear it is fact. Other’s claim it is fiction. Either way, according to a credible witness the story went something like this

Entering the men’s room Barry approached the sink. Turning the faucet, he allowed the steam to rise; the hotter the better, he must have thought. Peeling off his socks and tossing them to the floor he continued with some difficulty, to remove the new shoes. Then somehow, possibly due to his wiry and small stature he hoisted himself up upon the ledge of the sink and lowered his tortured feet into the soothing water. Closing his eyes he sat blissfully. But alas! in that very moment, the door swung open and our president, Jarod Jameson entered. And there is no doubt in my mind, that his eyes widened in disbelief at the vision of Barry perched barefoot on the sink.

It was said that he was fired on the spot though the legend of Barry Barrows for me, will always remain. Salesman extraordinaire with an unfortunate ending. Yet when I remember Barry I also remember the saying,

“Never judge a man till you walk a day in his shoes.