Relay-Version: version B 2.10 5/3/83; site utzoo.UUCP Posting-Version: version B 2.10.2 (Tek) 9/28/84 based on 9/17/84; site zeus.UUCP Path: utzoo!watmath!clyde!burl!ulysses!allegra!bellcore!decvax!tektronix!teklds!zeus!bobr From: bobr@zeus.UUCP (Robert Reed) Newsgroups: net.jokes Subject: A new-age salesman *relating* Message-ID: <488@zeus.UUCP> Date: Fri, 8-Mar-85 21:39:57 EST Article-I.D.: zeus.488 Posted: Fri Mar 8 21:39:57 1985 Date-Received: Mon, 11-Mar-85 05:04:29 EST Organization: Tektronix, Beaverton OR Lines: 128 [From the New Yorker] Dear Friends & Customers: I've been pricing rugs for the coming sale ... chopping away at the prices, hour after hour. All of this must have made a very deep impact on my subconscious, because last night I had a dream. I know a lot about rugs but not much about dreams and the subconscious. But let me tell you the dream, just as it came to me. With a bundle of rugs under one arm I was walking along an extremely misty road. The ethereal silence gradually gave way to the gentle sound of bells. The mist, like the vapors of dry ice in the movies, began to disperse. Ahead I saw a gate, golden and gleaming. It was closed, blocking my way. Gradually the sound of Christmas carols began to blend in with the bells. Drawing closer, I saw a man outside the gate in a Santa Clasu costume, ringing a bell near his Salvation Army painted chimney. Suffling a bit awkwardly, due to my bundle of rugs, I reached in my pocket for some change and dropped several quarters down the chimney. Oddly, it took ten or eleven seconds for the coins to hit bottom. ``Strange,'' I thought. I looked at the Santa, his beard a bit askew, and he winked. ``Could you tell me the name of this town?'' I asked. ``Town?'' he asked. ``Ah, but you don't know yet.'' He gestured toward the sparkling gates. ``These, my friend,'' he said, ``are the Pearly Gates.'' ``Well I'll be damned,'' I said. ``No ... evidently not,'' my Santa-friend responded. ``Then ... you're Saint Peter?'' I asked. ``Oh, no,'' he said. ``I'm just one of Peter's little helpers. They told me that you'd be along soon. Here, let me ring for Saint Peter. No doubt he will have some questions to ask you.'' He pressed a small white button. While waiting, I listened to Christmas carols. Bing Crosby was singing about a White Christmas. ``Bing Crosby made it here?'' I asked. ``Just the voice made it,'' Santa said. ``These are early 78 recordings. They never wear out up here.'' I would have pondered that remark if there was more time, but a jingling and jangling of keys announced the approach of someone. A dignified man appeared. I said, ``St. Peter, I presume?'' ``Yes,'' said the bearded old gentleman, as he unlocked the gate. ``Say, what's that you've got under your arm?'' he asked. ``Rugs,'' I said. ``Oriental rugs.'' ``Oh, yes. You're the rug dealer,'' St. Peter said, locking the gate behind us. ``I was hoping that one of you would make it up here someday. I have a liking for Oriental rugs myself.'' I knew it was risky but I couldn't help asking him. ``Would you like to look at some excellently priced rugs?'' I could see that he was interested. Rightfully so. But, he hesitated and said, ``I don't remember any regulations that forbid it. And after all, - 2 - it's nearly Christmas.'' He then looked me squarely in the eyes, and asked, ``The prices ... James, are they the best ... the _v_e_r_y _b_e_s_t ... you can offer?'' I searched my conscience and said firmly, ``Yes.'' I unrolled the rugs and he examined them. It was a crucial moment for me. This was the big sale that I simply HAD to make. He looked at the sale tag and spoke with infinite authority, ``This price IS excellent young man, you've made a sale!'' I was elated. My first sale beyond the Pearly Gates ... and to St. Peter himself! What a piece of business! Naturally, the itch to share this news with someone arose in me. I asked, ``By the way, are there any other rug dealers up here ... some of my competitors? I'd enjoy talking shop with some- one.'' ``I'm afraid that will be impossible,'' St. Peter said. ``None of them are here.'' ``None of them?'' I asked. ``But some were my friends ... fine people.'' ``Oh, they were fine enough as people,'' St. Peter said. He put his hand on my shoulder in a fatherly way. ``But, James, my boy ... they just didn't offer the deals.'' Suddenly there was a buzzing. St. Peter fumbled in his cloak, evidently, he was being ``beeped.'' But still the buzzing continued. It went on and on. Why couldn't St. Peter stop this distressing noise? Suddenly, jarringly, I was in my bedroom ... the alarm clock. The noise was the alarm clock. It had all been a dream. Was I disappointed? Certainly. It's always a little hard losing a good sale. but we won't lose many during this coming event. The prices ... well ... if they were good enough to get past the Pearly Gates, even in my dreams, they will certainly please and delight you. The sale list eloquently tells that part of the story. These are the prices that make our sales so popular. This sale will be a special celebration of a successful year ... the approach of the Christmas season ... and our 9th anniversary in the Stark Street location. I have every reason to believe that this event will be a success for you and for me. A very great success. Afterall ... somebody up there likes us. Sincerely, JAMES OPIE. --_P_r_o_m_o_t_i_o_n_a_l _l_e_t_t_e_r _f_r_o_m _a_n _O_r_i_e_n_t_a_l-_r_u_g _d_e_a_l_e_r _i_n _P_o_r_t_l_a_n_d, _O_r_e. Don't bet on it, Opie. -- Robert Reed, Logic Design Systems Division, tektronix!teklds!bobr