Lot.

One

He straightened his tie, a stained, and outdated vestige of his long passed college days, smiling cautiously, his teeth gleamed with the same sheen as the slick in his hair, and the shine from the tar on the floor of the lot.

“Well?” The teetering old woman squinted at him expectantly. He knew when not to say anything, after so long on this sweat glistened forecourt, he knew when to wait it out.

After a moment or two, the charged environment, which had stirred up, dispelled. The pensioner smiled pleasantly, and the salesman grinned, took out his pen, and passed it across the desk.

“There is no doubt that it is worth it”.

Later, he leant back in his chair, masticating on the damp tuna sandwich he had been dispensed from the machine. When he finished it off he would have to take a look at completing his reports, but until then, he didn’t have the energy.

Energy would be forced upon him no doubt at tonight’s meeting.  Well, it was not called that per say.  The management called it Team Bonding…

“You will want the Faux LeatherX seats?” He lifted his eyebrow as he pronounced the brand name’s last letters. He gave a questioning glance to his customers, a balding man in a denim jacket, and his accompaniment, a twenty-something, with hair, no wrinkles, and a smile. He could recall the much more basic model he had sold to the man’s previous wife, and smiled when he saw that the mistress too remembered this. She wanted it and smiled and so did the plump man.

Of course he wanted it. They always wanted it.

They went into the back to sign off on the deal, and he offered the husband his lucky pen, he smiled as he said it, the familiarity of the ploy more contemptuous than comforting.

He was a trustworthy man, he shouldn’t lie.

The customer scrawled his name across and promptly left, and the wife thanked him, and as they left, the denim encased man slipped the pen into the breast pocket of his jacket, the outline of it visible between the bursting seems and the worn, well washed, faded concert memorabilia. The door fell closed as they exited, and the office fell into silence.

He leant forward into his desk, and as he switched the computer on, going to update the balances and ledgers, he remembered the letter which he had received earlier this week. Despite his outstanding record, and his usually high sales, this last month’s dip had had management on his case. Do more, or leave, was the choice handed down to him, so he obliged and did more.

The next car was bought when he stumbled outside again, purely by chance for a cigarette.  This was bought by a pair who were leaning over a standard “first car”, admiring the machine. These two, with their arms wrapped tightly around each other, smiled and grinned and upon the approach of the salesman, looked up.

“Fine day!” He exclaimed. “You two are here for a car!” He was as friendly as he ever was.  He showed off the inside, and twisted their arms towards a newer model, showing them towards a younger member of the team, who could set them up with an appointment for a test drive, and upon dealing with them, he returned to the corner and finally had his cigarette.

He retired to his office shortly after.

Two more sales stretched out the day.  He was even able to encourage one of the buyers into a quick glass and a bite across the road.  He knew he shouldn’t’ve but always carried mints with him these days.

Team Bonding that evening was uneventful, as usual, the sales team sat around in the office munching down on the tea and biscuits, occasionally getting glared at, by management, when they mentioned their dissatisfaction with their jobs, or the food provided.

He walked home, later still, after the team were informed, via a short nod from their manager, that they had stayed long enough.

He arrived home and rattled the keys into the door, swinging it open, and he tripped. Looking backwards he saw a pile of letters to deal with, so he pulled himself and it off of the floor, and into the kitchen.

He rifled through his mail, it turned out to mostly be a product of local politician vote canvassing, so he dumped them down, and then went to pour a drink.

He retired to his bed shortly after.

The next morning, he got up, stumbled back out of his house and towards the lot. On arrival, he grabbed a coffee and fell into the back room, and into the waiting chair.

A knock on the door signified the first customer of the new day, so after forcing a smile upom himself, he reached down, pulled open the drawer, and took out another one of his pens

Unfortunately for him, he did not retire for a long time.