A couple of months ago, I saw “Death of a Salesman” on Broadway. I knew nothing about the play and was excited mainly to see Andrew Garfield, the new Spider Man, live onstage as Biff Loman, with Phillip Seymour Hoffman in the role of his father, Willy. Well, the show changed me.
It was poignant and emotional, and the best piece of theater I’ve ever seen. As a potential drama major, I was floored, and left the theater that night with mascara streaks running down my face from crying all the way through the second act. The acting was phenomenal, but the play itself is just so moving and tragic, and though it was written in 1949 by Arthur Miller, the evocative themes in the play are just as relevant today as they were over 60 years ago. It was upsetting for me to see the trials of the lead character and his family trying to live out the “American Dream,” but failing in spite of their best efforts.
Willy Loman’s job in sales seemed to me so difficult, so erratic, and unstable in terms of raising and supporting a family. I’m 18 and I don’t have a clue what that could be like. I’m a college student just done with her freshman year, and aside from waitressing and babysitting, I have very little experience in the work force. Due to recent unexpected developments, that is about to change.
It started with a letter and knives. There, have I gotten your attention? I woke up bleary-eyed at 11 the other morning after another into-the-wee hours Friday Night Lights marathon. Let’s just say that I am still recovering from finals. When I stumbled downstairs I saw a couple of pieces of mail for me on the kitchen table, one of them an insurance claim from a trip to the emergency room last fall at school, the other a letter from a company called Vector, offering me a chance to come in and interview for a job. I called my mom at work, and she confirmed, that yes, I would have to call the insurance company and clarify why I ended up in the hospital with a busted knee.
I was expecting her to tell me to throw out the letter from Vector, that I didn’t need a summer job as I would be plenty busy driving my 13-year-old brother to camp, making him lunch, and helping him keep his brain engaged. Instead, my mom went on for a good two minutes about her love for Cutco knives, how she had bought her first set 25 years ago in California from a college student, how she had tried to buy more online, but discovered that they were only available from a Vector distributor. And then, with the logic that only mothers seem to have, she concluded that I should become a Cutco representative. I was curious and had nothing to do but wait anxiously for my grades and watch the Netflix queue of my favorite show. I called and set up an interview for 6 o’clock the same day, figuring I had nothing to lose. What I had to gain, I discovered, was an interesting experience.
My mom didn’t want me to go alone to the company’s offices in East Brunswick, so we drove together in rush-hour traffic on Route 1, in the pouring rain. When we arrived I was dismayed to learn that the process would take about three hours. I was close to bagging the whole thing, but I figured I had already come so far, literally and figuratively, I should follow through whole-heartedly with the interview process. Again, my mom’s philosophy was that everything would add to the growing pot of my experience, and I would have new material to tap for real life, writing, and acting. She left to pick up my father at the train station and promised to return. After the three-hour orientation, I knew more than I thought I’d ever know about knives and the company.
I was accepted for a part-time position. My job entails giving hour-long presentations on Cutco knives to friends, family, and referrals. I went into the whole thing with an uncertain attitude, so I surprised myself when I was actually happy to get the position, and now I am looking forward to my training in a couple of weeks. When my mom picked me up we laughed about how her desire for new knives led to a new experience for me.
When I got home, I told my father and brother that they were looking at the newest Cutco sales representative. They congratulated me, surprised to find out that I had retreated from my routine of sleeping in and unpacking, and had gone out and gotten myself a job. The company sent me home with materials, including a catalog and resume of a successful sales representative, one with a Princeton degree. But now I feel a bit nervous because I don’t know if I have what it takes to put myself out there and sell a product, even if it is one that I’ve grown up with and my mother loves.
I’m not sure I know how to sell myself. It takes a certain skill set to work in sales, along with a huge amount of confidence. I don’t have any experience, and for this reason I have everything to learn from this. Who knows how long it will last and if the only knives I sell will be to my mom and my grandparents, but I’ll give it my best shot. In these tough times, having faith and trying is all anyone can really do. I’m just relieved and grateful that I don’t have to count on my sales to pay my tuition in the fall.
I have a lot of learning ahead of me. Though I cannot really compare myself to Willy Loman, maybe I will grow to understand more about his life and his persistence despite major setbacks, but especially the pride and dedication he gave to his efforts to make a living and pursue the elusive American dream. I probably won’t go into business; I can certainly say that I don’t intend to sell knives for a living, but I can appreciate everything it takes to do the job. I do believe that I can apply whatever persuasion skills I learn to become a more convincing lawyer or actress, or even if I just want to persuade my parents to buy me a car.
Whatever my future holds, experiences like this will only make it richer.
