They set her next to a carton of soft drinks and a table. A table smack in the middle of a road. A road in the middle of nowhere. The salesgirl wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. What on earth was she supposed to do? Stop whizzing cars and ask them if they want a cool drink. “Umm… do you get many customers here?” The lone girl reached out to two other hawkers—one of cigarettes, paan, and the like and a fruit seller. The paan seller looked at her funny at first, then, after a few interminable seconds of close scrutiny, he finally deigned to open his mouth. “Are you married?” What what? Like, seriously, what? Her frown was a mix of consternation, disbelief, and disgust. It probably didn’t warrant an answer. But almost as if it were a habit with her…As if she couldn’t not answer a question asked of her, she replied before she could stop herself, “No.” But she managed to give him a dirty look in the process.
“Hmmm… how did you come here?” He continued, chewing his betel leaf, his teeth reddening like her face.
I appeared out of nowhere in the back of beyond, she wanted to say. Instead, she turned her face to the phone, wondering if this is what she was supposed to do for the rest of her day/days/month/months…
Disappointment, rage, and regret made her coil into herself. Why had she joined this place at all? Who had chosen such a god-forsaken location to set up a cold drink stall? How did they imagine something would sell here?
“Helloooo!” came the fake fun voice at the other end. That was supposed to be her team leader, Mister Fun, who was absolutely no fun.
“Hi.” She cut straight to the chase. “I want a change of location.”
“What, my dear?” And why?”
“There is no one here for miles! How do you expect anything to sell?”
“That is what you are there for, Missus.” “Remember how you mentioned in your interview about going any number of miles to get a sale?”
She fumed as if a lion was breathing within her. “I still want a location change.” “It’s not possible today. I have no one available for that area. We can try tomorrow.” So, she was stuck that day with the red-lipped betel leaf seller and the aged fruit seller, who seemed like he had taken a vow of silence since the time Dhritrashtra went blind. That day, the salesgirl noted in her diary:
Choose the right location. Avoid creepy people. The salesgirl reached the clock tower early the next morning. She was a newbie, but not ignorant. She did not want to be thrown into the hinterland again. “Happy with the new location now?” Mister Fun grinned his hypocritical plastic smile at her. “Yes, thanks,” she said with a small smile. “I expect you to make at least 10 litres worth of sales today,” Mister Fun continued his eerie grin and left. As the sun assumed its kingly throne, the salesgirl realised what she had done. There were people there—loads and loads of people, yes. But so were the sellers. The number of sellers was as numerous and unending as the number of people; the salesgirl was overshadowed by the sheer variety of soft drinks—some of more elite brands, some of cheaper and more affordable names, and others who had coupons up their sleeve. Dear Lord of Sales, what had she done?
The life of a salesperson is tough, but the life of a salesgirl can be tougher. Amidst crushing competition and the fight to prove oneself to the last, the salesgirl also has to deal with creepy, intimidating customers and has to be able to figure out the distinction between those with genuine interest and time-wasters. As one of the few women who take up this challenging role, she also has to battle inane questions that have nothing to do with her profession but everything to do with her gender. Sometimes she feels objectified, sometimes negated, and at other times demoralised.
The sun settles for the night and smiles down at the weary and the brave. ‘You will all see better days,’ it hums, ‘just wait, keep trying.’ The salesgirl sleeps soundly.
Aashisha Chakraborty, bestselling author of Mis(s)adventures of a Salesgirl.
