One day, which I particularly remember, was very hot - one of the hottest on record and the city was sweltering in the heat. It was the kind of weather that was popularly called a ‘real stinker’ and school children were sent home, building sites were deserted and I had the feeling that only company representatives were kept working as a refinement of torture.
On that day, I had to call on a private household to inspect a complaint about a flooring installation. It meant having to find the address in a new suburb called Brentworth, which was not recorded in my antiquated street directory. Also, it had a lot number instead of a house number which were always more difficult to find and very time consuming. However, despite those difficulties, I had to get the inspection over with!
Whilst driving in my air conditioned car the temperature was not a problem but every time I had to stop and get out, the heat hit me like one of the hot towels that barbers of old slapped onto customers’ faces!
In the end, the owner of a new milk bar had pointed me in the right direction: ‘The Fletchers are second street to your left. A white weatherboard house with roses planted along a white fence. We know them well.’
That would be easy, I thought. All that was needed was a quick inspection of the PVC flooring in the kitchen, asking all the relevant questions, making notes, and a speedy getaway to my normal calls, namely architects and government departments, who have all nice, air conditioned, offices!
Parking in front of the house, the heat caused me to stagger back as soon as I had stepped out of the car. Nevertheless I had grabbed my clipboard, tape measure, complaint forms and staggered towards the house. Ringing the bell took an eternity and there was no answer. I rang once more, taking care to keep under the shade of a newly installed veranda awning.
I had just decided to loosen my tie and unbutton my collar when I perceived movement in the house. Somebody was in there. I glanced at my watch which showed that it was indeed the appointed time of my inspection. Eventually the door opened slowly and a young girl of about 15 years of age stepped out. She was dressed only in a bikini bottom, had a kind of very open fishnet scarf wrapped around her shoulders and was covering up her ‘topless-ness’ with one arm folded across herself.
‘Yes?’ she said. ‘Who are you looking for?’
‘Is Mrs Fletcher in? I have an appointment to inspect the kitchen floor.’ I tried all the time to keep looking casually into her eyes but only managed a fixed stare, although I did notice her beautiful long wavy hair and her statue-like figure, with a shiny, silky skin.
‘Yes, this is the right house but my mother is not here at the moment. You are welcome to inspect the kitchen floor. Please come in.’ She stepped back, opening the door wide to let me in, using the other arm.
‘No, no, no, ‘I heard myself reply. ‘In order to inspect a complaint, the complainant must be present. An appointment had been made, but perhaps there was a misunderstanding somewhere.’ I tried to smile. She smiled back and tried to be more helpful by waving with her free arm in the direction of where her mother was right now.
‘She went over there (pointing over the trees to the next street) to the Wellingtons’ and my father’ - this time she nearly used the other arm - ‘went to work at the service station over there. Both will be back soon. Would you like to wait?’
Standing there in the searing heat and with her so close to me, I had to force myself to keep from getting dizzy. There was a sudden ringing in my ears and I had to force myself to concentrate.
‘No, thanks. But I’ll come again when I’ve made another appointment with your parents. Here is my business card’ and I held it towards her free hand. ‘Please ask your mother or father to give me another phone call and we will try it again. Goodbye for now!’
She smiled and reached out for my card, nearly shifting her other arm which gave me an electric sensation.
I could not get into my car quickly enough and had turned on the motor, blasting the air conditioning into my face at full force. This should ease my sudden headache, I had thought but it took me some time to recover enough to continue with the remainder of my calls for the day. Regaining my philosophical mood, I reminded myself that there were situations in a rep’s life that he dreaded but that he simply had to be in control of.
One day which I particularly remember was a very hot day - one of the hottest on record and the city was sweltering in the heat. It was the kind of weather that was popularly called a ‘real stinker’ and school children were sent home, building sites were deserted and I had the feeling that only company representatives were kept working as a refinement of torture.
On that day I had to call on a private household to inspect a complaint about a flooring installation. It meant having to find the address in a new suburb called Brentworth, which was not recorded in my antiquated street directory. Also, it had a lot number instead of a house number which were always more difficult to find and very time consuming. However, despite those difficulties, I had to get the inspection over with!
While driving in my air conditioned car the temperature was not a problem but every time I had to get out, the heat hit me like one of the hot towels that barbers of old slapped onto your face!
In the end, the owner of a new milk bar had pointed me in the right direction. ‘The Fletchers are second street to your left. A white weatherboard house with roses planted along a white fence. We know them well.’
That would be easy, I thought. All that was needed was a quick inspection of the PVC flooring in the kitchen, asking all the relevant questions, making notes, and a speedy getaway to my normal calls, namely architects and government departments, with nice, air conditioned, offices!
Parking in front of the house, the heat caused me to stagger back as soon as I had stepped out of the car. Nevertheless I had grabbed my clipboard folder, tape measure and forms and staggered towards the house. Ringing the bell took an eternity and there was no answer. I rang once more, taking care to keep under the shade of a newly installed verandah awning.
I had just decided to loosen my tie and unbutton my collar when I perceived movement in the house. Somebody was in there. I glanced at my watch which showed that it was indeed the appointed time of my inspection. Eventually the door opened slowly and a young girl of about 15 years of age stepped out. She was dressed only in a bikini bottom and had a kind of fishnet scarf wrapped around her shoulders and was covering up her ‘topless-ness’ with one arm folded across herself.
‘Yes?’ she said. ‘Who are you looking for?’
‘Is Mrs Fletcher in? I have an appointment to inspect the kitchen floor.’ I tried all the time to keep looking casually into her eyes but only managed a fixed stare, although I did notice her beautiful long wavy hair and her statue-like figure, except with a shiny skin.
‘Yes, this is the right house but my mother is not here at the moment. You are welcome to inspect the kitchen floor. Please come in.’ She stepped back, opening the door wide to let me in, using the other arm.
‘No, no, no, ‘I heard myself reply. ‘In order to inspect a complaint, the complainant must be present. An appointment had been made, but perhaps there was a misunderstanding somewhere.’ I tried to smile. She smiled back and tried to be more helpful by waving with her free arm in the direction of where her mother was right now.
‘She went over there (pointing over the trees to the next street) to the Wellingtons’ and my father’ - this time she nearly used the other arm - ‘went to work at the service station over there. Both will be back soon. Would you like to wait?’
Standing there in the searing heat and with her so close to me, I had to force myself to keep from becoming dizzy. There was a sudden ringing in my ears and I had to make myself concentrate.
‘No, thanks. But I’ll come again when I’ve made another appointment with your parents. Here is my business card’ and I held it towards her free hand. ‘Please ask your mother or father to give me another phone call and we will try it again. Goodbye for now!’
She smiled and reached out for my card, nearly shifting her other arm which had given me an electric sensation.
I could not get into my car quickly enough and had turned on the motor, blasting the air conditioning into my face at full force. This should ease my sudden headache, I had thought but it took me some time to recover enough to continue with the remainder of my calls for the day. Regaining my philosophical mood, I reminded myself that there were situations in a rep’s life that he dreaded but that he simply had to be in control of.
