when i was a lad i sold tvs on commission.

it was a commission only store. you got a draw of about $400 a week, but that was really only minimum wage after taxes and no one waned to just make draw.

and the store would fire you if thats all you made. they wanted sales sales sales.

i was 19 and i loved the pressure. but mostly i loved the reward of being better than the other guy. theres something nice about being paid for what you did and being punished for what you didnt do.

every other Saturday theyd bring sales trainers in to pump us up and give us tips. i remember one guy said that if we could get laid we could sell anything because the weiner is probably the least satisfying part of a mans body. he explained to us on a dreary saturday in west LA that the woman’s body rarely reaches climax through vaginal intercourse and yet men are constantly trying to convince women to engage in that activity with them.

i was 19 listening to this. trying to eat a bagel. the aroma of Windex was in the air as the store was getting ready to open.

i didnt want to hear any of this. but the gentleman in his suit, tie, and free pens kept talking.

he said if you could, in effect, sell your junk you were actually selling yourself which was the root of sales.

“once the customer is convinced that you are trustworthy,” he said, “you can get them to pay for anything.”

ironically i was one of the store’s top salesmen for that year.

and i wouldnt experience, lets say, adulthood, for almost two more years.

and trust me, that was not a sales pitch. it was a birthday gift.

but still to this day i think about that sales trainer, and i believe a lot of what he says.

especially the part about life being sales.

which is why i worry about kanye.