Be the Salesperson with Pride

 

After being in the sales-related field for almost two decades, I concluded that, as a salesperson, we can sell with pride. The idea of being a salesperson wasn’t appealing to me at first. Someone once told me that as a salesperson, we must not have pride, and beg if we must—to meet targets—for the sake of the commission.

I was even more convinced it was true when a friend talked about how she begged and cried to her customers to close the deal. A few years later, after trying in the service and administration fields for about two years, I became a salesperson. Let’s admit that it was the fastest way to earn more money in a short period.

In the beginning, I took others’ advice—be patient even if they’re unreasonable, be convincing, bend over to please them, and many more unbelievable pieces of advice that I followed.

Over time, these behaviours were eating me alive from within. The thought of visiting the clients disgusted and annoyed me. My legs felt so heavy that I couldn’t bring myself to work. I began questioning myself if it was worth betraying my feelings for this.

Finally, in my last sales job, at the last company, I decided to save my soul. That’s when the realisation came. 

We do not need to betray ourselves working as a salesperson. We do not need to convince others so hard to buy something—if they want to, they will. If the deal is for us, we don’t need to overwork. We do not need to prove to them with tons of evidence that our product is good—they need to feel that we’re trustworthy.

Customers came to me, orders came in, and they were sharing my contact details in their community after I decided to stop chasing and proving myself.

Thankful, it has been the most relaxing and insightful few years of my career as a salesperson.

Will I Take This Photo If I Don't Share It?

I grew up in a weird family with many restrictions. Cooking in the kitchen was restricted because of the greasiness; television was not allowed after certain hours at night, and the food we had was mostly the same every week. 

Being the youngest at home, it can mean growing up in loneliness. So, the best entertainment I had was the television. We didn’t have any subscribed TV channels with the latest shows. We would rent some videotapes (and later VCDs) for some TV time. Even that was very limited—about two or three videos a week.

One day in school, my friend was talking and laughing about some music videos on a paid TV channel. I had no idea what she was talking about and just laughed at her funny expressions. She looked so happy, excited, sociable, and confident. That was when I felt that I was missing out—I felt small and inferior.

Years later, here comes social media. It all started with my friends asking if I had this account and if I had that account. They started talking about the games, the features, the stories, and the lifestyle posts others share. Smartphones were not as common as they are today, and so we either had to own a computer at home or visit the cyber cafés.

It was not easy for me to gain such access. Even my sister wouldn’t lend me her laptop back then. The fear of missing out in me grew bigger, and I would go to the cafés now and then just to keep myself updated.

Finally, when I owned a smartphone, I joined whatever social media was popular in that era just to stay close to the trend. Slowly, I noticed my friends or people behaved differently when we were out together. They would stare at their phones, swiping, as if they were sitting there alone. To be honest, I never liked that. 

I changed too. I would take photos of the food I was eating, of my friends and me when we were out drinking, and of the places I traveled to—sounds normal. Yes, and I did that for a few years just to share them on social media.

About 8 years ago, I was heartbroken after my relationship ended, and I noticed that I was checking him out, hoping to know what happened and why we had to end it. I went on and on for weeks. Frankly, I did find out the real reason and felt relieved, and in the process, it woke me up. I realised that I wasn’t being myself—I was clinging, obsessed. I even felt uneasy looking at other people’s posts—sad, angry, hopeless, and more.

This moment of realisation stopped me from all social media activities. No updating my posts, no checking out what’s new about others. I needed to come back to myself. When I did, slowly, questions started arising. Will I take photos of my food if I don’t plan to share them on my social media? Do I usually inform everyone where I am going or what I’m doing? The answer is no.

Why did I want to share them on social media? Was it attention? Was it showing off? Was it FOMO? And if there’s no social media, will I still do them? The answer is no. And so, I stopped doing them for 8 years and came back to myself. I love the quietness after removing myself from the unwanted noises. I still use them for online marketplaces or some work purposes. I use them as tools, nothing more.