My sales journey

I was officially “bona fide”. Like Holly Hunter in “O Brother Where Art Thou”, I vaguely knew the meaning of the word, but it was the first one that came to mind when I received the official job offer and concomitant, company, coffee mug, professionally embraced by clear crinkle wrap, tied with a scissor-curled ribbon. I didn’t hang my diploma on my wall, but that darn cup was the proudest addition that I ever displayed. Whenever someone asked me how I had become a dental technician after graduating from Vanderbilt with a degree in psychology, I would always joke that my “A & S” degree was almost an acronym for an “Arts & Crafts” diploma, and although my parents would vehemently disapprove of their educational investment being so casually dishonored, I had certainly made good on the misnomer. When all of my scholastic peers were heads of major corporations and huge philanthropists with hospital wings named after them, their smiling satisfied grins on the social pages of the “Nashville Neighbor”, I was busy carving wax blocks into little green bicuspids, shining handmade rings into future Christmas gifts and making all manner of plaster creatures with which to decorate my desk. Finally my parents’ dreams and aspirations had come true, and I wasn’t too unhappy about things either. Now I was a “Sales Rep.”, with my very own business cards. After eighteen years behind the bench, it was my time to shine.