Don't Worry, Be Grumpy

The Guilt of a Salesman

When I was a student, and my hair was much, much longer than it is today, I also took odd jobs during the university holidays to make ends meet. One such job was selling children’s encyclopedias door to door.

First I had to learn the marketing pitch. It was a short speech that I had to memorize, which argued persuasively that not to purchase this amazing source of knowledge would be to deny a proper education to your dear child. I was instructed to use psychological pressure to make the parents feel almost as guilty as child abusers if they irresponsibly chose not buy this magnificent set of educational books.

Such a hard sell was immoral. I knew it. But I was young and desperate.

The first day, I sold a set to this sweet young couple who had recently moved in to a new house with their two very young children. That night I did not sleep well at all. I kept thinking of those young parents saddled with another bill to pay because I sold them this stupid, rubbish encyclopedia. I felt so guilty that I resigned the next morning.

For many years I felt very remorseful over that sale. Later, as a monk, I learned to forgive myself and let it go. After all, I was so immature in my long-haired days.

I once mentioned this anecdote in a Friday night talk in Perth as an example of forgiveness. Afterward, a young woman in her late twenties came to talk with me.

“You may not believe me, but this is absolutely true!” she began. “When I was a very young girl growing up in London, a young long-haired student came to our house and sold my Mum and Dad this children’s encyclopedia. I simply loved those books!” she enthused. “They were my favorite books of all. It may not have been you, but thank you so much anyway.” For once I was speechless.

The way I now understand how this universe works, I am pretty sure that it was I who sold her parents those books.