I sold books door-to-door.Yep. Needless to say, it was a rough job. Not only was I selling ancient encyclopedias over a decade after online research became the norm, but I was also knocking on people’s home doors to do it. Sometimes I knocked, a person answered and they actually spoke to me. And on very rare occasions, they’d get out their checkbook and make a purchase.
Somewhere inside the whirling emotions of failure, it became clear that failure vs. success is a numbers game. It was by no means the norm, but a sale was inevitable. The more doors I knocked on, the closer I got to the next sale. But let’s not kid ourselves. The inevitable sale was not always the glowing focus that kept all other worries at bay. The numbers game can be easy to lose sight of when you’re tired, distraught, and haven’t tasted success in a long while. In the book world, each day was tough. I could say I was always positive and the “no’s” just bounced right off, but then I’d be a liar, wouldn’t I? Selling books was the first time in my life where people automatically distrusted me, and in some cases even feared me. It was such a bizarre roll to be in as a 20-something-year-old female college student walking around the suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia. Rapid glances between curtains, dogs let loose to chase me away, and calls to the police were just a few parts of my glamorous book selling life.