Free Hard Sell: The Evolution of a Viagra Salesman by Jamie Reidy Page A

he said nonchalantly, “Ah, give them a case.”
    I skipped across the parking lot to the Lumina, grabbed a large box containing 144 bottles of seven pills (most physicians gave patients a bottle or two—one or two weeks’ supply—with a prescription), and raced back inside to find Amy laughing along with Bruce. Her smile grew upon seeing the case, but his vanished.
    Walking to the car moments later, Bruce lagged behind with his shoulders slumped. I waited for him to catch up, and he shook his head and muttered, “Those sample cases are way bigger than they used to be.” It took more than a year for Amy’s doctors to work through all that Zoloft; we had given away the gold mine. Changing the subject, I asked what he and Amy had been laughing about.
    Bruce perked up at this. “I just asked her to keep an eye on you, to make sure no pretty nurses take advantage of the new single guy.” He gave me a playful jab on the arm.
    “But you know I have a serious girlfriend.” He nodded, smiling devilishly.
    “Yeah, but Amy doesn’t need to know that.”
    I stopped outside my car door. “What are you talking about?”
    “Jamie, you need to take advantage of what you’ve got,” he explained impatiently. “You’re a young, clean-cut, good-looking, funny guy; schmoozing receptionists and nurses will be your in . You’ve got to play that card for all it’s worth. That’s how you’re going to make your money.”
    “But what happens when they find out I’m not single, that I have a girlfriend? Won’t my credibility be shot?”
    He shrugged. “There’s only one way for that to happen, man, and they’re not going to hear it from me.” He paused for a moment, eyebrows raised. “All right, are we going to sell some Zithromax today, or what?” The message was clear: Give them whatever they want and tell them whatever they want to hear; just move product.
    We didn’t see many medical professionals that day, as we seemed to spend more time with our faces in a northern Indiana road map than we did inside offices. When actually in front of customers, I felt as if I was having an out-of-body experience. It was surreal to have someone follow me around all day, listening to every word I said and noticing every change in body language and speech.“You told him that Zithromax would mean one-third less phone calls for his nurses, but you didn’t translate that into a benefit for him. Features to benefits, Jamie. Features to benefits.”
    Such close monitoring made me incredibly self-aware, and I found myself paying more attention to my physical reactions to a doctor’s comments than the actual comments themselves. “Uh, Jamie? Dr. Smith just said he’d like to know how to dose Zithromax in a twenty-two-pound patient.” Yeah, fine, but did you notice that I’m not standing with my arms crossed anymore? This was not healthy, or productive. Predictably, Bruce gave me feedback immediately after each call, making sure to begin with a few positives—“Nice tie” or “I really liked the way you handed the pen to that nurse”—before pointing out instances where I could have referenced a certain study or asked for the business based on “buying signals” I had not noticed. Unpredictably, however, he never stepped in to rescue a sales call gone awry.
    Pfizer instructed its managers to refrain from interfering, even if the lack of action meant a loss of business. “It’s like learning to ride without training wheels, man,” Bruce said. “If your dad never let go of the back of the bicycle seat, you never would have learned on your own. This way, you’ll fall a few times, but eventually you’ll get the hang of it. If I jumped in every time a new rep struggled, he’d never learn how to overcome that on his own.” His explanation made perfect sense, but he did little toconvince me that he actually believed it. As evidenced by his impatience in traffic, Bruce craved action, and I knew that sitting on the sideline