Hard Feelings Read Online Free PDF

than usual, digging her fingernails into my back and spending a long time on top. It was nice, I guess, but I couldn’t help wondering if she was thinking about someone else.

4
     
    THE NEXT MORNING, I was in my office by eight-fifteen to prepare for a ten o’clock sales meeting with Joe Fertinelli at Hutchinson Securities. At nine-fifteen, I took a cab across town and arrived at the Hutchinson building on Lexington and Thirtyfifth at around nine-thirty. I didn’t want to show up at the meeting too early, so I bought a cup of coffee from a cart on the street. Caffeine was good before a sales meeting, to build up energy, but I didn’t want to be overanxious, so I took a few sips then threw the rest away. At a quarter to ten, I took an elevator up to the Hutchinson office, chewing on an Altoid to get rid of my coffee breath.
    As I waited in the lobby, I rehearsed to myself exactly what I wanted to say. I imagined sitting down across from Fertinelli in his office and asking him about his golf game. The last time we’d met he’d made a couple of references to golf and it was always good to give a client the impression that you considered him an individual, rather than just a faceless prospect you couldn’t care less about. Gradually, I would segue into asking him if he had any questions about the proposal and then, very confidently and aggressively, I’d work toward the close. Maybe I’d look him in the eye and say casually, “So how about we get the ball rolling and sign?”
    At ten-thirty, Fertinelli came into the lobby. He was short and thin with dark hair and a large ethnic nose. He was probably about forty or forty-five. We shook hands and I knew I was in trouble. His handshake was weak and he pulled away first, avoiding eye contact. I tried to stay positive. Sitting across from him in his office, I asked him about his golf game—which I could tell he appreciated—and then I went over the proposal with him. He told me that his boss wanted to compare my proposal to proposals from other companies before he made a decision, but I continued to pressure him politely, remembering how I’d promised myself that I’d be a bulldog closer from now on. I said, “Why don’t we just get the ball rolling?” and he said, “I told you—my boss wants to see other proposals.” Every salesman knows that the key to making a client say yes is to make him say no five times. So I continued to press, saying, “There’s no sense waiting—why not just give me your John Hancock and we’ll start work this afternoon, okey dokey?”
    Finally, Fertinelli said, “Look, I really wish you’d stop pressuring me, all right? I don’t like to be pressured.”
    On the way back to reception, he promised that he’d call me next week, but I knew he was full of shit. He wouldn’t call, and when I tried to call him, he would be “in a meeting” or “away from his desk.”
    Walking mindlessly across town through the crowded midtown streets, I was ready to quit my job, quit my career. I was even ready to go see a shrink.
    Back at my office, I passed Bob Goldstein, the last person I wanted to see, in the hallway.
    “How’d the meeting go?” he asked.
    “Great,” I said, hoping my smile didn’t look too phony. “I think I’m gonna close him Monday morning.”
    “Let’s hope so,” Bob said.
    As I booted up my computer and accessed my database of leads, I decided to change my whole attitude. Struggling to make sales obviously wasn’t working, so I might as well just give up, resign myself to the fact that I was a loser and a failure, and see what happened.
    I spent the rest of the morning calmly calling prospects, without any expectations, and the strategy worked. I set up two appointments for next week with MIS managers I had been trying to meet with for weeks.
    Sometimes it amazed me how the future could seem so hopeless at one moment and so bright at the next. Suddenly, I was confident that everything would work out for me after