When we arrived in Exeter, Swindon, Loughborough or wherever, the canvassers were dropped off to try and get some leads. So the closers were done for the day. Well, until the evening when their work started in earnest. Or in ‘earning’ as was more appropriate. We were all self-employed and paid totally on commission. No sales, no money. And as the closers received the lion’s share, they had to pay for their canvassers’ accommodation too. So they would book themselves in to the nearest big, posh, 4/5 star hotel in the area, flashier the better, then look for the cheapest boarding house hovel in which to place their lowlife canvassers. Just the way it was. They felt like a million dollars, we felt like Oliver Twist. C’est la vie.

These ‘closers’ (until my ‘promotion’, obvs) were serious characters. None of them over 23, all living with their parents and yet earning a fortune. So they bought cars. Half had Triumph TR6s or Stags, the standard flash-boy toys of the age. A couple had Jags, one had a Lambourghini. I kid you not. The guy was semi-literate, couldn’t add up 2 whole numbers under 10, but could sell stars of David to Momentum.

Then Graham lost his driving licence for a month for speeding. Oh dear. Hard to get where ya need to get and make your appointments in out-of-the-way housing estates without wheels. So he asked me if I would drive for him. But I was Gary’s canvasser and I was quite good, so he didn’t want to let me go. No problem; Gary & Graham would work together every week, I’d still work for Gary but drive Graham around too. In his brand new, magenta Triumph Stag, marked only with his personalised vanity number plate. And I was well paid for this ‘extra service’.

So on the first Monday of the new arrangement I picked up Graham, went to the office where we acquired up Graham’s new canvasser and left for Sheffield. Gary and Graham went together in Gary’s car and I followed with Kim. Who was gorgeous. I certainly wouldn’t slam any doors on Kim. Oh no.

When we arrived, Graham told me to go find a cheap hotel. Which I didn’t. I found a ‘nice’ but reasonable hotel instead for Kim and I to board at his expense. Canvassers always shared rooms. Cheaper that way. Which was sometimes horrible, but on this occasion didn’t seem to pose such a problem. And they had no twin rooms, only doubles. Oh dear.

So I’m 17 years old, driving round in a fantastic super-car (of its day) and from Monday to Friday I’m living with my midweek-wife. I was almost surprised that they gave me a cheque every week. I’d have paid them.

I duly became a ‘closer’ and left after the intended 6 months. And bought myself a brand new Mini (proper, old-type, REAL Mini) with the proceeds of my immoral (so the world later thought) earnings. Ahhhh, but those were the days… no standards of any description. Wonderful.

Happy Saturday/chag sameach

A xxxx