© Bill Farquharson, Print Tec Network

I wrote this article in the summer of 2004 and heard from people all over the country with their own stories. I think this the most boring industry on the planet, so anything we can do to spice it up will help.

Happy July, everyone. As I sit and enjoy the blessings of the summer, I find myself desirous of taking a break from the monthly nagging you sales and marketing types get from me. If you'll allow it, I'd like to share some memories of my early sales days. Consider it a summer break. Don't worry; I'll get back to busting your chops next month.

I've been working on my own since I was 25. Of the very few things I miss about working in a large office, a consistent string of practical jokes is the thing I miss the most. We had a great group of guys in our UARCO Business Forms office in the early 80's. We were young and clueless and anxious to succeed. Life has taken us in different directions since then, but by sheer coincidence I have recently heard from many of my office mates and we relived the highs and lows of those early sales days. We all agreed that the camaraderie we shared has never been equaled.

What made the work so enjoyable, I believe, was the ruthless but good-natured fun we had at each other's expense. It kept things light and broke the tension of the every day pressures we all felt. Rookie hazing was a specialty, as first witnessed by Dan Owens, a high-strung and imminently talented new hire now working for Data Associates in Waltham, Massachusetts.

Dan had a habit of taking things very personally, especially when it came to delayed deliveries. He would talk to the scheduling department in a tone and at a volume generally reserved for IRS agents and the customer service staff at Target. The manager of our plant in Deep River, CT once called the regional manager to complain about Dan, but it was no use: the ranting continued.

Dan's loudest yelling came as a result of fax he received from Corporate (or so he thought). It told him that all future sales and commission checks would be withheld pending receipt of the overdue sales correspondence courses were all require to complete after the initial training was over. Had he read carefully, he might have uncovered the ruse by reading the sender's name out loud: Hugh Arco. I don't think I've ever seen someone's face get that red in anger. Poor guy. Welcome to UARCO, Dan.

Sitting behind me was Bob Muzerall. Bob got off relatively lightly with a thoroughly juvenile "shaving cream on the phone, then have him paged" gag that made him feel included. I think I might also have super glued his phone once or twice, but don't want to admit to any kind of property destruction (what is the statute of limitations on that kind of thing?). Even management was not exempt from the chicanery. The regional manager, Bob Fiochi, was a humorless leader we seldom saw. He had his own entrance from the outside hallway, allowing him to come and go without having to come into any contact with the working sales stiffs in the back. God forbid he toss us a friggin' bone.

Unfortunately for Bob, on the way by his office one day, I noticed that his "Private Office" nameplate lined up perfectly with the "Ladies Room" sign just next door. It amazing how quietly tings can be unscrewed and replaced in the name of childish humor. For the rest of the day, Bob was interrupted by confused women with full bladders.

Taking a vacation almost guaranteed that you'd return to a gag, as my district manager Mike Powers found out. Dan and I swiveled his desk 180 degrees and then put everything on his desk back in its original position so he wouldn't notice it until he tried to retrieve something from his desk drawers. I can still hear Mike screaming my name.

My own vacation to Hawaii was memorable, too. I took with me several postcards from Boston and mailed them back to everyone in the office. They read, "We didn't really go to Hawaii after all. We are in Boston for the week, looking at the sights and getting some rest." No one could figure out how we managed to come back with a tan.

The absolute mother of all practical jokes still lingers fresh in the memory banks and makes me laugh every time I think of it. On a Monday morning, Dan returned from a wedding in New Hampshire that included his reprobate gaggle. He was, to be kind, still under the weather from the experience. As I listened to Dan recount the weekend and describe some of the damage his party did to the rented condo, an idea was born. Doing some research into copies of messages he'd received in the weeks leading up to the wedding, I enlisted the assistance of Bill Carbo, a fellow rep. Bill locked himself in the manager's office and, using his private line, called in to the office to ask for Dan. When Dan picked up, Bill passed himself off as the lawyer for the condo development, vowing to sue Dan for damages unless he coughed up $2200 by 5pm that day. If you listened carefully, you could hear Bill screaming from the office, using the information I had given him and embellishing some of his own. Dan was crushed. It was only when Bill came shooting out of the office, stood beside Dan's desk and added, "And another thing, I want cash!" The jig was up and Dan spun my direction and yelled, "YOU!"

Just before leaving the company, I got some of my own medicine. A dead fish was placed in my car (the one I was just about to sell), the windows rolled up, and as the sun beat down a going away message was delivered. Determined not to let on that I'd been had, I drove down the road before stopping and ridding myself of the foul offender.

I don't think I will ever work for someone else, now that I have tasted both worlds. Some people are simply not cut out to be at a big company and I am one of those. Still, I look back fondly on my four years of sales when we were struggling and growing and learning and breaking the tension with the kind of humor that is useful but harmless. Yup. Those were the gold old days.

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