Door-to-Door Saleswoman

The Manager

July 27th, 1998

I'm perplexed when my star employee -- a girl aptly named Penny -- comes to my office and says she wants to quit. She begged for this job months ago. I took a chance, enamored by her charm and potential, then trained her even though she had no experience with sales.

Penny is my best employee ever. Literally. Ever. Her first month was slow, which was to be expected, but then her output skyrocketed, surpassing sales people who've done this kind of work for decades. As she sits in my office, I attempt to plead with her.

"Business is booming," I say. "Do you want more commission? If you're trying to get leverage, all you had to do was ask. We can negotiate a new contract. No need to play games."

Penny smiles. "Some things are worth more than money."

"Such as?"

"Integrity. Moral values."

Her arms fold while sitting upright and she touches her shirt, at the center of her chest. I see she's wearing a gold necklace and I'm certain there's a cross beneath her shirt. Why else would she be touching that area while talking about moral values? A wholesome girl, indeed.

I have an idea why she feels this way. Here's some context:

-- Our company makes/sells designer clothing and undergarments.

-- I'm a local branch manager in a middle-class neighborhood (bordering on upper-middle class).

-- Penny was hired to join our new door-to-door sales program, selling products and providing custom service to housewives who are home during the day.

My guess is that selling lingerie has taken its toll on her. Looking at her sales sheet, Penny is a marvel when it comes to selling erotic undergarments, which is the last thing anyone expected from her. Even our most veteran saleswomen sell mostly outdoor and office clothing.

But the girl in front of me? What is her secret? What's she hiding?

"Did another company offer you a better contract?" I ask.

"Actually, I'll be jobless after this. I'll go back to living with my parents for a while. I want you to know that I really appreciate this job. Thank you for hiring me. Thank you for taking a chance and training me. I'll always appreciate you."

"You're my star employee, you know."

"So I've heard."

I can't let her go. Not so easily. I'm even more curious about her.

Our top clients are the women who run this community. The pillars of our society. PTA leaders, school board members, women who manage religious events. The backbone of any small city.

For years they've been loyal customers because they need to look presentable. We sell quality office clothes, dresses, homewear, and anything needed for formal events. But it was Penny who found a way to get these women to spend big bucks on everything, especially lingerie. Innocent young Penny making these sales -- who would have thought?

I lean forward. "You said you're grateful because I hired you."

"Yes, and I always will be. I've had a great experience."

"Do me a favor, tell me your secret. How are you bringing in so much money? You're outselling everyone by leaps and bounds. How?"

Penny tenses, her hands clasp. "I pray a lot. Maybe that helped?"

"You think so?"

"Have you ever tried it?" she asks.

"Everyone in the business world has tried praying. The results are wildly inconsistent. Come on, I'll write you the best recommendation letter if you're looking for another sales job."

"It's complicated," she sighs.

Yes, she's hiding something. Her body language gives it away.

"Let's make things easy. I'll give you $10,000 right now, if you tell me your sales strategy. Something that can be replicated. One time offer. Non-negotiable."

The offer I'm presenting is worth every penny (no pun intended). If I can maintain these sales without her, the offer would pay for itself. That's how much business she's bringing in. It makes me look good with the corporate office.

For someone of Penny's age, the offer is irresistible. Her eyes light up, clearly this is the last thing she expected to hear when quitting a job.

"Did you say..." Her voice trails off. "Are you serious?"

"If you have a comprehensive sales strategy, then I want it. It has to be legal, of course. I'm assuming you aren't blackmailing these women into buying products."

"No," she says, shocked then amused.

"Do you have a strategy? Did someone teach you something? Something you learned that you made into your advantage? You're a smart young woman, what's your secret?"

She sighs. "It's not something I can easily explain. I shouldn't even be saying this."

"I'm offering a great bonus."

It makes her think. She considers it. $10,000 would do wonders for her life.

She takes a deep breath. "I used to be awful at sales, but I worked really hard to improve. I studied, memorized little details about the products, and I worked on my confidence. Everything changed when I knocked on Mrs. Clinesmith's door and she answered. Do you know her?"

"The local PTA president for the last four years. Regularly attends school board meetings. She spends roughly... I'd estimate... $400 - $500 a year at our location. Thanks to you, that number went up significantly. Of course I know her."

"Did she prefer female employees?" Penny asks.

"I believe so. Why? What are you hinting at?"

"All I'm saying is, Mrs. Clinesmith knows what she likes."

"And you used that to your advantage," I say.

"It's complicated."

"Make it simple. Tell me about your first meeting with Mrs. Clinesmith."

"Alright, sure," she says. "It was supposed to be another sales pitch. To be honest, I used to think the door-to-door program was kind of stupid. Sure, I made a few sales, but it didn't seem worth the effort.

She continues, "There I was, with a rolling suitcase full of items and brochures and coupons. And there was Mrs. Clinesmith, a prominent woman in society. Tall, commanding, beautiful. I felt like a fool attempting to solicit her. Who was I? Why would she give me the time of day? She regularly goes to the shopping mall anyway, where skilled employees are happy to assist her.

She continues, "Before I could say a word, Mrs. Clinesmith smiled and asked what this was about. I was upfront with everything. My name. The company. The new door-to-door sales program. I thought she'd dismiss me, but instead she seemed receptive. She inquired more and I gave the sales pitch which I had perfected at that point.

She continues, "When Mrs. Clinesmith invited me inside her home, in many ways, that was the moment my life changed. There were two friends in the living room. Coffee and pastries were on the table. At the time, I didn't know who they were, but I later learned that they were fellow PTA moms. Prim and proper. There was a pair of panties on the floor, too."

"Why do you mention that?" I ask. "The panties."

"It was an odd detail. I mean, really odd. These are respectable ladies, and there was something like that laying on the floor? One of the ladies was wearing a skirt. It piqued my curiosity. I ignored it as Mrs. Clinesmith brought me into the living room to meet her friends. After brief introductions, I did my sales pitch again. They looked at me like I was a student giving a presentation. It felt like an appraisal of me, instead of the products. Their eyes were all over me. Going up and down. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"That's the secret?" I ask. "Standing there and being cute?"

She winces. "It's more than that."

"I'm offering you a generous bonus. If there's more, I want to know."

"Well, I was offered money by Mrs. Clinesmith to model a sundress. The one inside my rolling luggage."

This takes our conversation to a new level. One I hadn't anticipated.

"That's the kind of thing I want to hear," I say. "Tell me about that."

"My sales in the previous month weren't great, so I was desperate to sell. And I wanted to impress these women because they obviously had money. They were really nice to me, also. Mrs. Clinesmith said she was interested in making a purchase, but didn't feel like changing her clothes. So she offered me $50 to wear the sundress and model it for her, with a promise that she might become a regular customer of mine."

"Did you do it?" I ask.

"After a brief moment of consideration," she replies. "I figured, why not? I already walk miles each day to make sales -- or at least try to make sales. So I agreed. I went to the bathroom and changed into the sundress she was interested in buying. Mrs. Clinesmith is taller than me, bustier. So the dress was loose and my chest was showing.

She continues, "When I went back to the living room, their eyes were pleased. They were happy to see me. I thought it was a power thing. You know, that they liked having their own personal model to try on wardrobe for them. They commented on the dress, but their eyes were on my body. They weren't shy about what they liked.

She continues, "That was the day when I made hundreds of dollars. I took orders, pre-orders, and sold exclusive memberships to the three women. Clothes. Undergarments. Perfume. They were complimentary of my customer service and I had fun. I was enamored doing business with those respectable women.

She continues, "When I left that house, I was a different person. My confidence was sky high. I was no longer the timid young woman, who was nervous speaking to so many strangers in a day. I had effectively become the top salesperson for this company, at least in that period of time. The power was addictive and I knew I wanted to do it again."

"And you managed to maintain those numbers," I say. "Actually, you increased sales by a lot. Tell me how you did that."

"Can certain parts of this remain confidential?" she asks.

"I'm paying for your strategy though."

"Okay, let me clarify. This information is horrifically embarrassing for me and everyone involved. Our reputations would be destroyed if these details spread throughout the community."

Now I'm more interested than ever.

"That's understandable," I say. "Whatever you say will remain between us."

"Swear?"

"Absolutely, I swear. This remains between us."

"Thanks," she says. "A few days after that episode with Mrs. Clinesmith, she called me at night. I was over the moon during that period. Mrs. Clinesmith said that I was a natural saleswoman and she loved the concept of 'home service shopping,' as she described it. She also appreciated my hustle and determination. She told me that on Monday -- if I was interested -- she'd invite some friends and I could have a sales relationship with them. That was my window to a new world. For the first time in my life, I felt like a professional.

She continues, "Monday came and I was introduced to different women. Two were on the local school board, one was a realtor, another was an accountant. They were lounging outside near the pool, sitting on recliner seats. There were drinks made. Food was by the grill, but no one cooked yet. They were cordial towards me. They were eager. I introduced myself and did the sales pitch that I honed, but with more conviction. I was on a mission to impress and I wasn't going to fail.

She continues, "Basically the same thing happened. Mrs. Clinesmith asked me to model for them, which I kind of expected would happen. I mean, the last time was a success for that reason. But to my surprise, Mrs. Clinesmith asked me to wear a matching undergarment set. The women smiled while I thought about it. I'd already come that far, so I agreed."

"Were you upset?" I ask.

"It's impossible to explain. I'd never done anything close to what they wanted. Not even a little. But I was motivated to be great at my job. I wanted to be successful. And, you know, I thought it was fun. It's a weird thing to admit, but part of me liked the excitement. It was something new.

She continues, "Mrs. Clinesmith selected the attire from my rolling luggage -- the smallest bra and panty set. I was speechless when she handed it to me. But I went inside the bathroom and changed my clothes. My tidy outfit was placed neatly on the bathroom counter and I wore the undergarments. Looking at myself in the mirror was surreal. I'd never worn anything like that in my life. I was barefoot when I went to the backyard. My hands trembled. It was scary."

"Did you want to stop?" I ask.

"No, because I liked it," Penny says.

"How much did you make that day?" I ask.

"Almost $500 in total. Same as before, I took orders, pre-orders, and enrolled the women in memberships."

Her claims ring a bell and I flip through the sales sheets on my desk to find Penny's figures; her numbers are accurate and the date matches. Something else catches my eye. The following Friday, her numbers skyrocket to around $1,000 in sales -- in a single day. A record number. Her figures remained consistent ever since, making her the star employee.

Placing the sheet in front of her, I point to the astronomical figures.

"What happened here?" I ask, tapping the number on the page.

She looks at the document. No hesitation.

"A pool party," she says.

"Can you tell me about that?"

"Swear not to tell anyone? The details about the women, I mean."

"Of course. I'm only interested in how you maintained these figures."

"Mrs. Clinesmith had a pool party," she says. "Details were light, but she said she'd introduce me to other friends with deep pockets. When I arrived at her house that day... it was the weirdest thing... there was this energy that radiated when I walked in the door. I was nicely dressed, pulling my luggage with me. Mrs. Clinesmith had a sultry smile on her face. The living room was open space and there was a clear view of the pool area through sliding glass doors.

She continues, "As we went to the pool, I saw a topless woman. Laying back on a lounge chair. A drink in hand. Casually carrying on a conversation."

"Breasts exposed?" I ask.

"Pink nipples and everything."

"Who was it?"

"I won't give a name," she says. "But I later learned that she owned and operated a local bakery. Mrs. Clinesmith introduced me to everyone at the pool. I did my best to avoid staring at those tits, wondering why everyone was so oblivious to them. At one point, I thought it was my imagination. Mrs. Clinesmith was telling the group about my services, while I stood there wondering if I was seeing things. If I'd gone crazy.

She continues, "This was a different group of women, but they all came from the same world. You know, the housewives, the PTA and school board moms, the small business owners. You know the world I'm talking about. They're the kind of women who value status and reputation, above all else.

She continues, "Mrs. Clinesmith took me to the bedroom after all the introductions were made. She went through my luggage and found something perfect for me. Black bra and panties. Sheer. That's right -- it was sheer. When she dangled the bra in front of me, she had this mischievous smile, because we both knew that my nipples would be showing."

"Did you wear it?" I ask.

"I did."

"Why?"

"For the same reasons I mentioned earlier. Career advancement meant everything to me. I was desperate to succeed. And, to be honest, I liked the thought of being the center of attention for those kinds of women. Of doing something 'bad' by society's standards. It's not something I've ever done before, you know."

The image of Penny wearing sheer undergarments is an attractive one. Even wholesome girls have fantasies and desires. Being in this business for a long time, I understand her reasoning. Right or wrong, our corporate culture is built around competition.

"Can you tell me what happened at the pool?" I ask.

Penny winces. "When I went back to the pool area, the entire atmosphere changed. I could feel their eyes on my nipples, which were covered by the thin, see-through fabric. It was awkward. Very awkward. I was so embarrassed, but it was a rush. Mrs. Clinesmith held my hand and guided me towards the center of the backyard, near the pool. She encouraged me to make my sales pitch -- and I did. I explained the fabric I was wearing, how comfortable it was. Our different rewards and membership programs. Things like that."

"Did anyone take advantage of you?" I ask, afraid of what the answer might be.

"No, no, god no. These are the sweetest, most amazing women. You're lucky to have them as clients."

"Did anything else happen?"

My straight-forward question stops Penny in her tracks. I'm only asking these questions because she's easy to read. Her body language is more nervous. Her voice has a different pitch, which suggests something sexual.

"Please don't make me go further," she says. "You can use your imagination. But yeah, that's the secret. I became the best saleswoman thanks to the door-to-door program and being at the right place, at the right time. I used my body and modeled outfits for them. Nipples and all. Mrs. Clinesmith showed me a new world and I'm grateful for that. "

I nod. "May I ask a personal question? If you're grateful to Mrs. Clinesmith, and if you're so enamored by these women, why are you leaving?"

"Because I'm afraid I'll become addicted to their lifestyle."

Looking into her eyes, it makes sense. I understand Penny's perspective and I can imagine what she did with those women. Or rather, what those women did to her. Frankly, I shouldn't be surprised. How could I have missed the cues?

I open my desk drawer and get the checkbook. Penny is getting a bonus, my way of thanking her for giving me a new sales strategy.

Mrs. Clinesmith's Pool Party

Two Months Earlier

The backyard is spacious enough, the fences tall enough, that we have a reasonable amount of privacy. Sure, neighbors can peek if they're at the right window at the right time, but it's weekday. People are at work. School is in session. We get to play.

One of the most exciting new developments in recent years is guiding Penny to the pool area. She's wearing the undergarments I selected for her. The sheer fabric of the bra does little to hide the pinkness of her nipples. The pinkness of her nipples almost matches the pink shade of her blushing face.

Penny is a rare gem that I'm always searching for. She has what I like. Innocence. Every respectable woman at my pool party thinks the same thing when looking at her; that the contrast is unbelievable. Her innocence shines as she stands there, frozen in time, with her hands down. The sheer undergarments are nothing she'd ever wear. I can tell from her discomfort.

But I can tell from her breathing that she's into this. Her eyes are wide, a slight curvature on her lips, she makes an effort to push her chest forward, jutting her breasts and the shade of her nipple color through the sheer fabric. The girl is a secret exhibitionist, as I had anticipated the moment I first laid eyes on her.

I stroke the back of her shoulder, running my hand down until I reach the bra. Then I speak on her behalf, telling the group of esteemed women how high-quality the fabric feels and how great it looks. Penny finishes that thought, explaining the new design and the quality of the European fabric, with a slightly squeaky voice. The squeak in her voice makes her more desirable. She doesn't realize that, but it's true.

Penny forces herself to maintain composure in front of the small audience. She keeps her chest jutted out, good posture, and her eye contact is nice. I notice that she looks in the direction of the topless woman. That's my friend Alejandra who owns the sole Cuban bakery in our area; she was premature in undressing and I had to remind her earlier that this is a classy event.

As expected, inquiries for sales come in strong. They think it's a great deal. Home service is appealing to women with busy schedules. Especially if it involves the personal service of a young woman like Penny, who has the fortitude to demonstrate the wonderful products that are available.