By Chris Parker
By Jesse Marx
By John Baichtal
By Olivia LaVecchia
By Jesse Marx
By Olivia LaVecchia
By Tatiana Craine
By Judy Keen
My name is Jeffrey Lunzerman, and I'm a salesman's salesman. I'm a rocket, a fireball, a powerhouse. I was born for this.
Actually, that's not true. It's an affirmation I've been reciting of late. Affirmations are troubling when they're a lie, but I'm working to fix this. I'm signing up for the "Get Motivated" business seminar at Target Center on May 26.
My friends ask how my professional life has become so inert that I'm turning to aging jocks for inspiration, but that's not what I want to discuss today.
Have you seen the ads in the daily papers? The "Get Motivated" business seminar is being called the "Super Bowl" of success training. Sarah Palin is going to be there, and she's currently our nation's number-one go-getter. She's like me; she came from nothing. She was just some hottie looking to win a podunk beauty contest, and now look at her. She's sassy and sexy, which is just what America needs right now. Otherwise it's just more George Will.
Rudy Giuliani is speaking as well. He was there for New York in its hour of need. I don't think it was that particular day necessarily, but some time afterward he said, "I have got to find a way to monetize this freakin' 9/11 thing." Well, I want to learn how to do stuff like that. I need a gravy train of my own. The trouble is, sales are so often about truly believing in your product, and I think Americans have too much shit already.
Of course, that attitude will get me nowhere, and Tamara Lowe should straighten me out here. She's author of a New York Times best seller titled Get Motivated. She'll be speaking on "How to Overcome Objections and Close the Sale." That means when you're caught peddling snake oil, there's a way to counter the rejection and get the SOBs so confused they buy the stuff anyway.
I don't enjoy sales all that much, but I learned a long time ago it's where all the money is. I know money doesn't buy happiness, but it does buy the nice house where you can sit and read the self-help books that one day might get you happy.
I've thought about this a lot. I'm ready to pony up the $225 admission fee. It's time to better myself as a salesman and as a human being.
I'll spend part of the day learning from Gen. Colin Powell. He'll be speaking on how to carry water for the boss even when you know the hapless chump is leading you down the road to perdition. I'll also hear the words of a guy named Zig Ziglar. No, he's not some cartoon. They call him the "gold standard in motivation." In a brochure, it states he's "transformed millions of lives with his profound secrets to success."
I'm not sure why his tips are secrets, or why guys like Zig are privy to them while schnooks like me have to pay to get the dope, but that's the deal. The point is, Zig says he has the necessary keys for "embracing trouble and still coming out on top."
I bet Hecker and Petters wish they'd hung out with him.
Yeah, I'm pretty pumped for this event. I want to be the absolute best at my profession. Steve Forbes says he's going to help me get there. He'll be speaking on balancing a personal and professional life. Forbes will make it crystal clear: Either train the spouse to enjoy alone time or get him or her excited about holding your arm at networking parties. If these spouses think a certain someone's going to be home for supper at six, they'd best get a blow-up doll.
By the way, I'm not saying the organizers are having trouble attracting people to this prestigious gathering, but there are coupons in the daily papers this week dropping the $225 cover charge to just $5 per person. Are they still going to be able to pay Favre? Talk is cheap, but he's not.
Maybe Gardy will have to back out. That'd be a shame. I need the man's charismatic eloquence to prod me out of bed each morning and fire me up to move some units. I've tried it on my own, and without the life coach I'm just another mope taking a long lunch, sitting in his car, smoking weed, and listening to KQ.