Tale of a travelling salesman
Tale of a traveling salesman
No one wants to become a salesman by choice. People who fail elsewhere usually opt to be the salesman. I became one by default of my destiny. On a hot, dusty summer afternoon, desperate me cycled down for my first interview for a salesman's job and my fate was sealed.
I began selling Lacto Calamine and Crocin pills at 22, traveling by deprecated buses to 25 remote towns of Saurashtra, meeting 200 doctors, and 300 chemists every month. I hated traveling because I had to move away from two of my dearest friends and one lonely girlfriend for those 25 days. But money was good, I needed it and frankly, at 22, whoever has heard fighting one's destiny!
MBA degree I acquired was not much use as I continued selling textiles and garments. My travels continued. I was now boarding trains to Madras on a weekly basis. I often boarded a bus from Canannore in Kerala to Bombay, I stayed in a run-down hotel in Chandni Chowk in Delhi, all to sell or buy something. Two friends moved on to their career and girlfriend turned in to the wife. I recall leaving her alone and desolate in our tiny apartment in Ahmedabad and jumping on a train not to return for 20 days. The only mode to connect with her was a telephone in a neighbor's home.
Two girls were born in a narrow bylane of Baroda and I missed their birthdays and school events as life continued to take me away to terror-stricken Punjab, famine-affected Orissa, and forests of North Eastern India to teach farmer how to build a greenhouse from plastics I was selling.
Fate never intervenes. It only pushes you to explore a new direction. Changing the job and taking a plunge at 45 did not stop my salesman streak. I was now selling ideas to the investors, contractors, technology providers, crude suppliers, and sundry people who can help us build and expand a refinery. I was now off to the Middle East, South Asia, Americas. Early morning arrivals in Mexico city, midnight landings at Caracas, and weekends in Columbia and Sudan became my life.
I thought of quitting at 60, then at 62, at 65, and finally pushed myself out at 67. And truth be told, I do miss my traveling days, my 180 flights every year, the adrenalin rush of changing airports and hotels daily, meeting strangers and converting them into friends, and living the life of a nomad.
I am now trying to avoid traveling but am not succeeding. Since retirement 20 months ago, I have made 15 domestic and 2 international travels. While in Mumbai, I am breathing easy and restricting my movements in 2 kilometers of my home at Bandra. But in my heart, I know travels are looming large on the horizon.
No one wants to become a salesman by choice. People who fail elsewhere usually opt to be the salesman. I became one by default of my destiny. On a hot, dusty summer afternoon, desperate me cycled down for my first interview for a salesman's job and my fate was sealed.
I began selling Lacto Calamine and Crocin pills at 22, traveling by deprecated buses to 25 remote towns of Saurashtra, meeting 200 doctors, and 300 chemists every month. I hated traveling because I had to move away from two of my dearest friends and one lonely girlfriend for those 25 days. But money was good, I needed it and frankly, at 22, whoever has heard fighting one's destiny!
MBA degree I acquired was not much use as I continued selling textiles and garments. My travels continued. I was now boarding trains to Madras on a weekly basis. I often boarded a bus from Canannore in Kerala to Bombay, I stayed in a run-down hotel in Chandni Chowk in Delhi, all to sell or buy something. Two friends moved on to their career and girlfriend turned in to the wife. I recall leaving her alone and desolate in our tiny apartment in Ahmedabad and jumping on a train not to return for 20 days. The only mode to connect with her was a telephone in a neighbor's home.
Two girls were born in a narrow bylane of Baroda and I missed their birthdays and school events as life continued to take me away to terror-stricken Punjab, famine-affected Orissa, and forests of North Eastern India to teach farmer how to build a greenhouse from plastics I was selling.
Fate never intervenes. It only pushes you to explore a new direction. Changing the job and taking a plunge at 45 did not stop my salesman streak. I was now selling ideas to the investors, contractors, technology providers, crude suppliers, and sundry people who can help us build and expand a refinery. I was now off to the Middle East, South Asia, Americas. Early morning arrivals in Mexico city, midnight landings at Caracas, and weekends in Columbia and Sudan became my life.
I thought of quitting at 60, then at 62, at 65, and finally pushed myself out at 67. And truth be told, I do miss my traveling days, my 180 flights every year, the adrenalin rush of changing airports and hotels daily, meeting strangers and converting them into friends, and living the life of a nomad.
I am now trying to avoid traveling but am not succeeding. Since retirement 20 months ago, I have made 15 domestic and 2 international travels. While in Mumbai, I am breathing easy and restricting my movements in 2 kilometers of my home at Bandra. But in my heart, I know travels are looming large on the horizon.
You can take a salesman out of me but not travel I guess.
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