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Salesman, well, you're gonna go sell
all of your goods today...

This may sound odd, but I was thinking about salesmen just now. I'd hate to be one. Actually, besides any and every job working in a kitchen, being a salesperson would be my last choice in professions. Of course, I'm not talking about the sort of salesperson who rings up your order at Taco Bell, but actual ones. If you need an example of an actual one, try Enjulio (or whatever his name is).

Salesman, gonna walk along the street,
see friends along the way...

I ran into Enjulio today. It was our third encounter. He came jogging after me, huffing and puffing. My hands were full and I wouldn't deem Enjulio dangerous per say, so I didn't run. I just turned around and gave an eloquent, "Hmm?"

Whoa, salesman, with your wooden cart
that you push along while you walk,

"Hullo! Do you remember me?" he asked.

"Um, yeah, you own the, uh..." I gestered across the street at a herd of used cars sheilded behind an unfriendly looking fence.

"Right! Now, you're..."

"Julia."

"Right! That's right. So, have you talked to your mom about getting a new car yet?" He looked so hopeful I could swear he was almost bouncing. He sort of reminded me of my dog, Pippin. (His dog is one of the big, gaurd dog sorts and not peppy in the least. I suppose you wouldn't be, just walking around out in the hot sun all day with cars all around you and nothing but cement under you.)

Hey, salesman, got a little dog (not)
whose tail wags when you talk... (Also untrue)

I told him that my mom hadn't decided yet what sort of car she wants. It's half true, actually.

"Oh, well," he said, that perky smile never leaving his lips. "Tell her to come by some time, eh?"

You always wear a smile,
even though you got to walk ten miles...

"Yeah. Sure," I said.

"Would you like to take a look at the cars?" he asked. "We've got some new..."

"No, thanks," I said, abruptly. "I've got to me home in, like, four minutes." This was a lie, of course. Nobody was home except for my cats and dogs.

"For real? Ah, well, just tell your mom to come by..."

"Yeah, well, bye..." I started walking away as quick as I could. If he'd said another word to me, I think I would have lost it.

Short lifespan, good-time-salesman.

Once I had gotten a distance away, I sort of began feeling bad for Enjulio. I wondered if he had any kids... a sick mom... something to justify his annoying, stalker-ish persistence. Honestly, I don't think I've ever met someone so hyped up on selling me something, with the exception of a few telemarketers.

Yep, yep, salesman, running on the street,
whether it's hot or cold...

Now that I have the topic of salesmen on my mind, I'm beginning to think about this other guy. I don't know his name and he doesn't know mine. He was significantly less enthusiastic than Enjulio. Actually, he was downright morose. (English vocab word! Yay!)

It's salesman, well, you work real hard (sort of)
till every pot is sold...

He came knocking at my door last week. I opened up the door, but kept the screen closed. The problem with this is that you can never really see the person very well. From what I was, though, he looked like a nice person. Whenever I first meet a person, I pick up things about them. I try to figure out what they're like, what they like doing, what they looked like as little kids, what their family's like, if they like any of the same music I do, and such and such. I pictured him as the sort of guy who still lived with his family (he was young. Twenty, tops.) and was just working this crappy job (half assed, of course) to help them out (I couldn't picture him as working his way through college, though, which is odd because he seemed smart enough). I pictured him as the kind of guy not a lot of people really got (really quiet and aloof, you know?). Also, I saw him as the sort of guy who didn't quite realise just how gorgeous his is. (Not that I noticed, of course.)

Salesman, as the years go by,
people changing every day...

"Hi," he said. "I'm here for AT&T..."

"Huh?" I said. I couldn't hear him over my barking, yapping mutts.

"I'm here for AT&T phone services," he said, a bit louder this time. He had a soft voice, so it wasn't much of an improvement, but I understood him. "What phone service to you have?"

"Um... I have no idea." I whipped my head over my shoulder. "Hey, Jeremie, what cell phone service do we have?"

"Cingular," she called back, popping her head momentarily out of the kitchen.

"Cingular," I repeated to the salesman.

"Oh, well, we have this new deal for home phones where..."

"Oh, wait, we don't have a home phone."

"You don't?" he asked. I shook my head. "Just cell phones?" I nodded my head. "Oh, well, ah..."

I smiled at him. "It's fine. Sorry."

He smiled. He had really nice teeth. "Don't mention it." He started moving. "Have a nice day."

"You, too," I said. I studied the back of his head for a moment as he walked off. Normally I hate it when guys have short hair, but it wasn't bad on him.

I closed the door, just thinking, "Poor guy." You would have had to have seen how emabarrassed he seemed to be going door to door selling phone service. I hope something better comes his way some day.

Hey, salesman, till the end of time,
you'll be living in the same way... (But hopefully not...)

He was probably the nicest salesman I've ever met and that's mostly by default. Maybe it was his honesty. Or maybe it was just the fact that it didn't seem like he was purposely out to annoy me.

You always wear a smile,
you're loving fast and you live wild...

The song I keep quoting is starting to remind me of other sorts of salesmen. I've met a lot in my life who didn't fall under peppy and enthusiastic, but didn't go about aloof and content if he didn't sell a single thing. These salesmen are usually selling something illegal, of course.

Short life span, but ain't life grand?

For those who plan to become drug dealers when you're older, here's a tip: don't take Enjulio or Mr. AT&T's routs. If you act like Enjulio, it will be pretty easy for you to get caught. I mean, just going around, all smiley and perky, asking everyone if you could interest them in some of your fine products... Yeah, that's just not a good way to go about it. And, of course, if you go around with Mr. AT&T's mellow attitude, well, you probably just shouldn't be a dealer to begin with.

Actually, I'm going to advise all of the very many of you who are considering drug dealing as a career path (because there are so many of you, I bet. Note my sarcasm) to find something else. Sure, there's the money you get from it, but when you consider the fact that most dealers just end up spending their profit on drugs for themselves... well... then you just end up broke and high in the end.

Copper kettles,
different kinds of tin,
There goes salesman
and he's sailing high again...

Maybe it's just that all of the drug dealers I've known in my life just weren't very good ones. For the most part, it seems like the only reason they began dealing in the first place was to support their habits. Of course, I can't give you any specific examples of these people. I believe that is what we would call "ratting out." (Besides, for those of you who I've spoken to very little, it would probably surprise you just how many druggies I'm related to...)

He's sailing so high, (High)
He's sailing so high, (High)
He's sailing so high, (High)
High, (High)
High, (High)

Hmm... maybe to finish up on this little journal entry of mine, I'll clear up some misconceptions about drug dealers. First of all, I've heard people say before that they were afraid to walk around in bad neighborhoods in fear that they would be shot by a drug dealer. Well, here's what's wrong with that. If you're doing something wrong (like dealing drugs), the last thing you want to do is draw attention to yourself by shooting someone. Generally, if you stay out of dealers' hair, they'll stay out of yours.

Oh, salesman, well, you're gonna go sell
all of your goods today...

Another misconception is that all drug dealers are bad people. See, in actuality, just most of them are bad people. I'm sure there are a few of them just doing it to send their kids to college or to pay back their student loans or something. Besides, there will always be a few of them that just like hooking their friends up with some of the good stuff. For the most part, though, I suppose they are bad people. (And don't go into that whole "Well, what is good and what is bad, really?" thing. This entry is long enough without that.)

Yep, salesman, gonna walk along the street,
see friends along the way...

I'm thinking now of all of the drug dealers I've met in my life. For the most part, actually, I think I'd just describe them as pathetic. I mean, can you appreciate what it must be like to wake up and think, "I am thirty-six years old and this is the only real job I've had since I was sixteen." (Of course, the person I was thinking about when I wrote that has probably never thought those words in his life. I don't know if he thinks of anything besides "I'm hungry" or "Damn, I'm so high..." or occasionally "My girlfriend's water just broke." Preferably not all three at once, though.)

Hey, salesman, with your wooden cart
that you push along while you walk...

See, that's why if they would just legalize drugs, we wouldn't have this problem. Drug dealers would now be obsolete (I guess drugs would mainly be distributed by pharmacies or big companies or whatever), so they would be forced to go out and actually do something. I'm sure most of them would find a way around that, though.

Hey, salesman with your secret goods
that you push while you talk...

Ugh. I can't believe how much I've written on this subject. It's almost two in the morning. I should probably go to bed soon. It's amazing how much I find I have to say about subjects I've barely thought about before. Of course, I'm beginning to wonder if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

You always wear a smile
even though you gotta walk
a hundred and ten miles...

Yeah... I need sleep. I guess I'll just finish the song off. Funny song, isn't it?

Short life span, but the whole thing's grand.