North Star Writers Group

Therapists may occasionally ask thought-provoking questions, but the best therapists get patients talking, helping them to learn they have more on their minds than they realized.

Sales jobs are not very different. In the presence of an effective salesperson, a customer will forget to breathe or start new sentences, and by the end of the conversation, will have unwittingly agreed to commit the next three years’ grocery money to a 68-inch plasma TV, or an all-in-one printer/copier/fax machine/home security system.

Obviously, the perk of calling oneself a therapist is that the money is guaranteed up front.

In my experience in sales, customers have helped me unearth the truth about Enron, the Iraq war, Sacha Baron Cohen, and why Grandma Mildred’s nephew now drinks his coffee with three Splendas instead of two Sugars in the Raw. It has come to my attention that the elderly like to clench my arm when engaged in conversation, and in a cruel twist of fate, are inexperienced with breath mints.

It is interesting how people evolve in the eyes of a salesman. At first, they maintain the appearance of individuals with hopes, dreams and car payments. Before long, they all begin to look like loosely secured bank accounts. But over time, they begin to resemble boring, monotone non-fiction books on tape, projecting from tape players without stop/eject buttons. This is why people who have been in sales for too long inevitably lose touch with reality. They’ve been pumped so full of the public’s ceaseless ramblings that they lose their ability to distinguish between those conversations that may lead to commission and those about which, at a previous time, they may have actually cared.

The primary difference between a customer’s trip home from a used car dealership and the trip home from an appointment with a therapist is that, after spending exorbitant amounts on a used car with a leaky transmission, you promptly realize you were duped and begin to wish you had kept the details of your lazy kidney to yourself.

The truth is, salespeople are no more crooked than therapists. They generally make less money, and are the butts of a multitude of derisive jokes. When you think about it, it seems much more logical to pay a salesperson to listen to your tired stories than a certified therapist, because at least by the end of the episode, you might leave with something of resale value.

If you find yourself still listening to my ramblings, allow me to impart some advice. Buy a pet. They actually enjoy hearing you ramble, and if you are fortunate, they may even care. As pet-owners will always attest, quadrupeds seem to understand them as well or better than a biped with a degree. And all that concern about confidentiality, consider it no longer. You may notice neighborhood pets snickering behind your back, but it’s considerably less embarrassing than the human alternative. It’s even cost-effective. All you have is a one-time fee that determines your therapist’s species, and afterward, some negligible fees for maintenance and upkeep. You’ll save thousands. And when’s the last time your therapist let you rub their tummy? It’s probably the most therapeutic activity ever invented, but for whatever reason, paid therapists won’t put up with it for a second. Pets, on the other hand, encourage the activity, which is probably because they can tell that it relaxes us.

I think that most people simply desire to be heard. But unfortunately, what they have to say is, at least to human ears, unbearable to listen to. Consider venturing outside the boundaries of same-species therapy. And bear in mind, though I’m not entirely convinced that salespeople retain their status as humans after several years, there are far too few who are decent enough to allow you to rub their bellies. I guess it’s just another weird human thing.

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This is Column # NS33. Request permission to publish here.