CARLO’S GAP YEAR Chapter 7 of 10

Carlo’s sitting down in the meeting room in the office. Suddenly, he notices an older man come in, one that he hadn’t seen before.

He must be new, or he’s been here a while and I just haven’t seen him.

The guy looked in good health, shaven, clean pressed white shirt, holding a laptop in one hand, notes in the other, with a cup of coffee. What was unique about this man in particular is that he looked older and more professional than anyone else at the office – most were young adults out of high school or in college.

Every now and then a bit older individual would come through the program, but they wouldn’t stay very long.

Adults aren’t as cut out to get homeowners to pity them enough to buy anything, Carlo thought/figured.

Maybe if I can talk to this guy, he can give me some pointers on how he sells and life, like what it’s like to be an adult, Carlo thought.

Luckily, the man sat down right next to Carlo as he was thinking that.

“Hi, I’m Carlo,” already the job was making him more sociable, able to think and communicate with the other person in mind.

“Name’s Harry. Short for Harrison. My daddy named me after Harrison Ford, the famous actor. I’m new here. It’s my second week.”

“Yeah, same. I just finished my first week.”

“How did you like the work?”

“It’s not bad, some days.” Carlo had his sales prospectus, a binder, open and flashed his carbon-copied order forms over at Harry. “Others are terrible, like yesterday. I could hardly get one to talk to me.”

“Those days exist, but it’s in those that help you grow.”

Carlo smiled.

There was something about this man, a new and lifelong friend, as he would later find out, that brought out the best in him. At the most basic level of their friendship was a mentor-mentee mindset.

Harry already lived through the years Carlo was going to go through and came out of it looking pretty alright.

Carlo needed someone to talk to him in this way, instructive, and confident.

Sly but sober. In a way that reasoned through all the ways where Carlo might grow and be instructed as such. Plus, he seemed like he had beneficial intentions.

Carlo later found out that not everything is as it seems, and just how wrong he was in his initial judgement.

“Ok everyone, we’re going to do the ‘sales meter thunder’. What that means is that everyone is going to stand up, give their sales number for the week, and we’re going to clap according to how much they sold.”

“$1,445 in 2 sales.”

Medium applause.

“$250 in 1 sale.”

Low applause.

Then Harry stood up and said, “$1,500.”

A scattered applause started, then he continued, “$1,500 – each sale for 15 of them. $23,000, round-about.”

Everyone stood up and clapped exceedingly.

“Come on up here,” Mr. Foresman said to his star pupil.

“He did his training only two weeks ago, and in his second time at one of these meetings, he’s already at 5 figures in weekly sales, how did you do it?”

“Hard work, y’know. And I know some people… from living, be it I met them at the plaza, at the bar, childhood friends, and their referrals – they are juicy.”

“Tell me more.”

“I just made it more about them than about me, and what I could offer them, asked a lot of questions, found their need, and sold the product as the solution to their need.”

“I love it. Let’s give him another round of applause.”

Everyone clapped.

“Carlo, what’s your numbers?”

“1,833 over 3 sales,” medium applause.

Ugh, Carlo thought, I’ve got to find a way to get better at this sales thing. I’ll do whatever it takes.

At the end of the meeting, when Carlo saw that Harry was leaving, Carlo followed him quickly out of the office.

There it seemed someone, maybe his mom or dad, Carlo couldn’t tell, was ready to pick him up.

“Hey! Hey!”

Harry turned around. “Hey sport, great job. Keep it up.”

“That’s nothing compared to you. I want to learn how you manage to sell so much.”

Harry thought for a moment before speaking, “I don’t know if I’m the one who can help you, but if you know about guerilla marketing, try that, because-“

“Can you mentor me? Maybe meet me just once a week, at the office-“

“Say no more. Let me think about it. It depends, I have a lot going on.”

It looked like the woman, Carlo could now clearly see it was an old woman with gray hair.

She was motioning him to come quickly.

“Here.” Harry gave Carlo a card with his contact info on it.

HARRISON GESPO

Internet Marketer, Entrepreneur, Traveler

###-###-####

Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

“Call me tonight.”

Carlo walked back to his house from a surrounding neighborhood after a long day of door knocking.

He was worn out. It was hot.

Texas heat has a way of wearing people out, slowly but surely.

However, he did get another small sale and some pretty good referrals.

“At least I got that sale today, I can relax now.”

As he walked in, he expected to hear and see his family dancing and partying, but instead it was very peaceful.

Like crickets, he checked the garage and realized everyone must have come out of the house to adventure and see the city.

Pasear, was the word in Spanish.

He walked to his room, figuring he would just call it a day for the night.

That way he would wake up energized tomorrow.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out Harry’s business card.

“I can’t forget to call him tonight.”

Opening the door, he was surprised to see Jorge sitting there, playing chess alone.

No wonder he beats me every time, Carlo thought, he practices.

“Hola Carlo! ¿Quieres jugar ajedrez ahora?”

“No, I’m too tired for that,” he said, taking off his satchel and loosening his tie.

“Bonito terno.”

“Gracias.”

Jorge watched Carlo as he got settled.

“Quieres ver algo?”

Carlo got Harry’s business card out of his pocket and looked at it.

“This is my pathway to success,” Carlo said.

“Que?”

“Huh?”

“Quisieres ver algo?”

“No, no quiero solamente ver television,” Carlos said while reaching for the remote.

A few minutes passed by, Jorge continued gazing towards Carlo in an enthusiastic sort of calmness.

The type that one wants to show off a talent or ability, but they’re waiting for someone to allow them to showcase.

“Alright, what is it?” Carlo asked, noticing his uncle’s semi-desperate plea for attention.

Jorge wheeled his chair to his corner of the closet, opened the closet door, and took out an older-looking, worn-out shoe box.

Carlo put the business card on the chessboard so as not to forget to call him tonight.

Jorge brought the box and set it on Carlo’s bedside, next to him.

“Qué es esto, otro juego?”

“Algo casi así.”

It was the first time Carlo really observed his uncle’s face. It was worn, his pours were (like) smaller craters on his sun-tanned skin.

He had scars, from God knows what, and one went into his eyebrows, thus no hair grew.

He wasn’t conventionally good looking, but a beauty deep within him resonated to the surface, somehow.

He looked at least 10 years older.

Carlo pitied him, but wondered how and why he continued with a smile on his face and a spark in his eyes.

Must be from all the medication he takes, he figured.

“Esta es mi espada,” he took out an old dagger, “mi crucible, mis instrumentos mágicos, y mi cartas de magia.”

Carlo looked at the relics, then back to his face.

You have got to be kidding me, he thought.

Jorge leaned back in his chair, as if satisfied with himself for getting a reaction out of Carlo.

Carlo looked carefully at the objects, but didn’t touch them.

“De que son estas cosas?”

“Instrumentos para hacer que los reyes reales del mundo, los espíritus, hagan todo lo que mando,” he said with eyes wide.

It seemed like he really believed in what he was saying.

Carlo examined the “magical instruments” and noticed some dried up blood toward the hilt of the sword, and without having to ask, he realized that his cousin was not kidding.

“Eres espiritista? Brujo o que?”

“Casi, algo asi,” he said with a shrug.

“Bueno, que puedes hacer?”

He instantly wheeled to the door, locked it, wheeled back, it was clear he was excited to show Carlo what tricks he knew.

“Que quieres? Hay manera que lo tengas, por esto,” he said, waving his hand over his instruments.

Carlo thought for a second, not quite considering the consequences, but mostly skeptical about it anyways.

He said, “quiero ser rico, tener mucha suerte vendiendo, que puedo hacer el que vende más en toda la oficina.”

He put his finger to his mouth, thinking how he could have more success than Harrison, “quiero un Jeep…” his uncle in the wheelchair listened attentively. “Hay esta chica que conocí,”

Jorge wheeled forward, “no más, empecemos con eso.”

“Tienes dinero?”

“No me han pagado todavía.”

“Okay, este te lo hago gratis para que veas cuán efectivo es la magia negra en la vida de sùs beneficiarios.”

“Magia negra? No que eso es malo? Del diablo?”

Jorge hesitated, “No, eso solamente es folklore. No te preocupes.”

That managed to dispell Carlo’s concern and turn it from concern to curiosity.

“Empecemos con la cosa de hacer rico, esto me beneficia a mi tambien porque quando ves cuán bueno funciona mi estrategia mágica, nunca vas a parar de venir a mi para que resuelvo tus problemas. Pon tu mano aqui.”

Carlo extended his hand towards his cousin; “Ciera tus ojos,” Carlo did as he was told. He took his knife and slammed the flat side against the top of his knuckles.

“Te dolío?”

“Casi, un poco.”

“Ok, ahora ponga tu palma hacia arriba y cierra tus ojos.”

Carlo did so, as his cousin ordered.

He felt a small pressure against his palm suddenly.

“Ahora abre tus ojos.”

Carlo saw the knife balancing directly on his hand with no effort needed. He could barely feel anything was in his hands. But there it was, balancing erect.

“How did you do that?”

“Eso es nada todavia, sobrino, solamente estaba testando si tu espíritu lo deja que hago mi magia con tigo. Estás bien – la puerta de tu corazón está abierta, eso me dice mi athame.”

“Ok… Ahora podemos empezar.”