I took a gap yaar in 1973. Ok, I flopped in my A-levels and decided to take a year out rather than stay at school and repeat the year like a rather beautiful retard. 6 months of working then 6 months devoted to study. That was the plan. As we know, man plans, God laughs. So I needed to find a job. Which wasn’t hard as I’d always had Saturday jobs, since I was about 14 (fucking slave labour, children working, Corbyn would never stand for it, even with the ‘union for underage workers’). But that summer, to earn a bit of holiday money I started work for a local double glazing company. On the grounds that everyone who worked there seemed to have so much money. They lived a ‘Premiership lifestyle’ even though the Premiership wouldn’t exist for 18 years. Flashy cars, expensive clothes, nightclubbing, fancy restaurants (Indian AND Chinese!!)

So I started as a ‘canvasser’. This was the lower caste of the Double Glazing world. The scum. The unworthy. But how you start and how you ‘learn’. To eventually become a ‘closer!’ They’re the deal-doers, the salesmen. And it worked like this.

Monday morning we all met in the company office and every closer would take their canvasser, or pick one if they didn’t have. Good looking girls were particularly sought because they are great at knocking on doors and not having them slammed so quickly, and also because all the selling took place in far away places (Swindon, Nottingham, Cheltenham, Ipswich, anywhere they have housing estates with horrible, regular, easy-fit windows) and you might get lucky. And off you’d go. Always in pairs of closers and pairs of canvassers otherwise you get bored. We’d arrive at our destination housing estate and the canvassers would be deposited there. As a lowlife, you work long hours. From about 1.30 to 5, maybe 6. And we’d be knocking on doors saying “we’re conducting a survey about people’s views and opinions on double glazing…” even though that was an absolute lie because we couldn’t give a shit what anyone thought about it we just wanted them to buy it. And if they answered positively, you offered them a ‘once in a lifetime chance’ of having some over-paid, over-sexed, doped-up, long-haired London flash-boy screech up later in his Jag when hubby gets home to force you into signing some documents that would have you paying for something you never knew you needed or wanted, for the next 5 years.

Cynicism aside, it was actually a fantastic product and did all the things we know double glazing can help with. It was just a minor matter of convincing people that they were wrong not to want it. Even though most had never even heard of it. But that really was the closer’s job. The canvasser just got ‘leads’; people who said, ‘yeah, I might consider that’. If the lead was from a housewife, particularly a dim one, it was virtually worthless as the husband, 9 times out of 10 would probably not even open the door for the appointment. If it was a man-lead it might be ok, but the dream was to get a ‘Mr & Mrs lead’. They were… not priceless, they often came at a big price, but to the couple. At least the closer would get into the house to do his stuff. And the canvasser would often accompany him in order to learn the skill-set required to eventually gain promotion to that coveted position. Skills like cockiness, ruthlessness, pushy gobbiness and slimy slickness. I was a natural, I’m sad to admit. Well, in fact its a bit unnatural, but only if you have a conscience of any sort. So no problem there then.

We billed the closers at our company ‘advertising managers’ so people (ok, so really stupid and naïve people) wouldn’t think they were being sold to. And they pitched it as a ‘buy-NOW’ offer, only available tonight, as part of a ‘campaign’ so they’d get it at a reduced cost. Which they did. You priced up all the windows, added in the other stuff required and arrived at a total. Say £400. Then you add half as much again, making £600, known as ‘the moody price’. That all done in secret, obviously once you’d measured up. And you sell them the windows, then, like a fucking miracle, before their very eyes, reduce that down to what it would have been without all the subterfuge. But that was the drama, that was the pitch, that was how you could insist of a decision that night, and no other. And it worked. Often as not. Particularly in Swindon. I make no judgments.

Essentially, we were selling a great product which would reduce heat loss (long before that became fashionable), eliminate noise and increase the value of their home. And we were selling it at a very reasonable price. With the… errrr… discount. But the sales pitch, as later featured extensively on every consumer affairs programme ever made, was rather dodgy. But was that way just to force a decision. To eliminate the ‘I wanna think about it’ get-out which is a human default position.

To be continued…

Happy Easter/Passover/Bank Holiday Friday

A xxxx