"Ten's not so young"

It struck me strange as I heard Eudora Weltey’s words coming out the mouth of my 18 year old “Trainer,” Little Boss C, as she leered at a two preteen girls ambling down Bellflower Blvd.

“I dropped a bottle on a twelve year old last week,” she said with a toothy grin. “I stopped her and sprayed her with Fantasy by Britney, and I gave it to her for twenty since that’s all she had. She was on her way to buy a top for school, but when she smelled this she really wanted it. I guess it made her feel grown up.”

I quietly weighed the morality of what we were doing against some of the other things I had done for money in my life, such as helping to supply the Navy with combat-ready laptops so 18 year old rednecks, totally mercenary (much like Little Boss C) and ready to lay their lives on the line for “their county” could receive orders from their commanding officers to kick in some innocent Iraqi’s door and do whatever fearful redneck 18 year olds do in that situation.

I also leered at the girls as I took a moment to ponder how I felt about an 18 year old stopping a 12 year old, spraying her with a “rendition” of a fragrance by Britney Spears, apparently a role model in her eyes, and then literally giving up a shirt that never even made it to her back, all the money she has, so she can be and feel “sexier.” The socio-economic implications of the transaction overwhelmed me.

“So you took a loss of a dollar on the bottle, because you felt……sorry…..for the girl?” I asked, since I now knew our “turn in” to the house was $21 per bottle.

“It had nothing to do with that! Sorry for her?! Please….I was hooking her up….its worth it to lose a dollar on the bottle so I can meet my production goal and get the bonus,” Little Boss C nodded with a grin.

I let the idea sink in and marinate, and for a quick moment I reflected on whether it really made sense to make little to no money so twelve year old girls in Bellflower feel sexier….from the perspective of my personal now and the collective future.

So this was my first “Training Day,” my first time “In the Field,” which I assure you, bore a lot more resemblance to a Denzel Washington movie than to a Deepak Chopra book.

The day began in the office with hands on learning: the trainers taught us how to discern a scent based on the color and labeling of its box. Sub-Boss L slowly held up a blue box with a black stripe. “Now this here is Blue Jeans by VersAys.”

“I pronounce it VesAys?,” I asked, “not Vers-ahchi?”

“Ummmhmmm,” Medium Boss L shrugged, “I know you’re from the country and these European names must be new to you. This here is by Sean Paul Got-tee-A, the rapper.”

“Not Jean Paul Gautier, the designer?”

“No babe, he’s a rapper, not a designer, OK?” Sub-Boss L sighed patiently, “and this here is Hair-ess by Paris Hilton.”

When they began quizzing us on how quickly we could match the boxes to the scents, they said they had never seen anyone memorize the boxes as fast as me, and quickly dubbed me “a fuckin’ genius.”

Sub-Boss A periodically screamed “ATTITUDE CHECK!” and whenever we heard that, she expected us to scream and clap as loud as “shit”. Sub-Boss A wore a bustier, jeans, high-healed sandals, and a lip ring. Her ensuing lecture on topics such as “The 9 Steps to Success,” “The 3 Ups,” “The Law of Average,” “The Law of Assholes,” “The 4 Reasons Why People Buy,” “The 5 Steps to a Transaction,” “Red Flag Words to Avoid,” demonstrated a street-wisdom far beyond mine at her age, which I assumed to be about half of my age now.

I learned many things I did not know and had not applied before, such as how to have “SEXC,” with the customer: Smile, Eye Contact, Xtra Enthusiasm, and Confidence. “The more confidence you have, the more they believe in you. Never ask a yes or no question.”

If only I knew to do these things earlier in life!

“You give them SEXC, your story, then you spray them and says ‘Smells Good, Huh?’ while nodding and smiling. The customer will copy your body language. You give them a high/low. ‘Normally in stores, these go for 60, 70, 80, even a hundred, but TODAY, I can hook you up for 30. Sounds good, huh?’ (nod and smile) Never use red flag words such as dollars, cents, buy, or sell, that makes them think about money. Say ‘hook you up.’ When we sell a bottle, we never say the word ‘Sell,’ we say ‘Drop.’

“Then you REHASH: Remember, Everyone, Has, A, Sale, Hidden.” You say ‘So, do you have a girlfriend at home, has she been good? How about hooking her up too?’ How about your sancha (secondary girlfriend), what does she like?’ As they give you the cash, you say, how about hooking me up with a tip, most people give me ten, but you can give me what you think I’m worth (smile).’ The funnier, and looser you are with them, the looser they’ll be with their pockets, because they feel like you’re they’re friend.”

“You flex your style to your customer. For example, Pisas (Mexican men wearing cowboy hats) love Hugo. Say: “toma calzones.” If I’m dealing with a man who doesn’t speak Spanish, I just go ahead and say ‘liquid panty dropper.’ Always spray them, and always MIH (put the merchandise in their hand), because possession is nine tenths of ownership.”

I found Sub-Boss A informative, mildly entertaining in her own, sluttish, annoying way, but appreciated the tips. At long last, Boss J emerged with a one liner and dispatched us to “the field” without further ado:

“Sometimes you kick ass, sometimes you get your ass kicked. Have Fun!”

Little Boss C and Little Boss P quickly took me and another FNP (Fabulous New Person or Fucking New Person) under their wings, and we rode off like bank robbers to a shithole named Bellflower. We would receive a bonus based on how well the team did, if we also achieved our individual goals. They wanted to know about our backgrounds so they knew what they were working with. I told them I did tele-marketing for an insurance agent, which has been true for nigh on two months now. I did not digress on what type of work I had done for the 15 – 20 years prior to that, or the fact that I had even come into this world at that time. The other FNP said his last job was “Street Pharmacist” in downtown LA.

“Hot Damn!” I thought. We’ve got a drug dealer, our numbers will be off the hook. “Then I guess you already know how to hustle.” said I.

“Yes I do,” said he. “I also rap.” And so he did, and talented he was. I liked him immediately and wanted to see him earn tons of money for his family and so he could produce his songs.

We pulled up to a strip shopping center. “Normally you hit up people up in this order: Wheels, Feet, Bricks.” First you hit up people in their cars, then on foot, then in the businesses,” Little Boss C explained. “Come with me, we’re taking the Sandwich Shop, then the checking cash place, then the Auto-parts Store, then the Beauty Supply Store, they’ll start from the other end.”

Somehow I hadn’t imagined it going down that way, as Little Boss C charged up to a woman who was eating. I thought we would just wait for our prey out in big parking lots, not actually interrupt people while they’re eating. The woman responded with interest as Little Boss C sprayed her. She contemplated the investment for what seemed like an “Eternity,” but ultimately said she did not have any money until tomorrow. Little Boss C cornered a Check Cashing employee smoking a cigarette on the sidewalk, who also had no money until next Thursday. I started practicing my pitch on the employees and customers of the auto-parts store, none of whom had money.

We moved on to the next strip shopping center. I chickened out at the Boost Mobile place, but I pitched a Chinese woman at an ice cream store, who claimed she did not wear perfume, then I moved on to a Carniceria, which I thought I had sown up. I learned that while I do have somewhat of an advantage with Mexican men, the chances of spraying them with the cologne while they’re butchering meat behind a counter is almost zero. Damn, had I forgotten everything I used to know about food safety? Shit!

No droppings at that strip shopping center, so off we went to the next. I had to practically run to keep up with Little Boss C. She engaged a Mexican man carrying a heavy box as he came out the loading dock of a Janitorial Supply Place. He said there were others inside. Little Boss C, directed me inside with a bob of her head as she brandished her bottle of Hugo and told the man, “I’ll wait til you put it down.”

I walked in and saw a room full of bleach and two old Asian mean. I debated whether I should just walk around like I’m trying to decide what bleach to buy or talk to them. The chances of anybody, especially me, walking out of that store with more cash than they went in with, had to be a statistical anomaly. I heard cowboy movie show down music in my head, along with Sub-Boss A saying “No cherry picking, the last person you think will buy, often does” and of course Boss J saying “Shit or get off the pot.”