George S May Days 3

I am back. I have decided to go into the remainder of the trainging for GSM as today is the date on which we finished and I got to go home to see my family, for what was two days. Without going into the minutae of the training, I did have that epiphanic moment on day two. It dawned on me how clever the "procedure" was. It hit the client/prospect/sucker(?) at the most basic of levels, psychologically, fear and greed.

It was all designed to get the business owner to "realize" how they have buggered things up and in how much trouble their business and life was. It was not about selling a solution but selling the problem and then have them ask for "our" help. I figured it out on day two, when I could see how the questions and "findings" would take them to their own conclusion, the one I wanted. It was part courtroom attorney and part psychologist, sociopathic one, mind you, but a psychologist nonetheless.

I was take them on an emotional rollercoaster, but I was in charge and they would not really know it. It was perfect for me as it allowed me to get "inside" somebody else's head, which I am good at, push their emotional buttons. I loved that part.

On the Saturday, we found that Ms. Gill was not there but some old dude in the ugliest sweater imaginable was there. That sweater looked like a Bill Cosby reject, from the 80s. It was as if Jackson Pollack barfed on it. I would say wool, but acrylic was more like it. Poor dead acrylics, used to keep some old dude warm in the cold Chicagoland winter.

I needed some paper and asked the old dude, Jack Biggins. He stared me down, he had intense eyes, and said, "Do I look like somebody who gives a shit?" Mr. Biggins tell me what you really feel. The best part of that day was him coming close during a role play and me noticing that either his head was infested with caterpillars or he had more hair growing out his nose and ears than he had hair on his head. It was quite a look, not one I want to emulate, but then again, I am superficial and shallow.

The remainder of the time was a sort of same old, same old. The days on the road were the most fun and I will continue on with that later. Suffice it to say, packing up, checking out and getting on the plane back to Toronto, in my suit, was kind of liberating. I will say that after ten nights of a poor sleep in a strange bed, I found my first night at home in my own bed rather strange as well. I would learn that it was a hazard of the trade. Live and learn.

Ciao!