bottle from theBarboy, added a dash of vermouth to his drink and walked off without aword of sell. He always was an odd one."
Lucy Wilson (turns from woman talk with the other two wives): "Oh no! Iknew it wasn't the Barboy set. They wouldn't have him set so slow.Besides didn't you hear the way she carried on about the nursery andthat lovely Nana? That must have been a build-up, but Ben goofed hiscue to move in on Sco and me for a close. Doesn't Amalgamated handlethose nurseries?"
Tom Bartlett: "Amalgamated makes almost anything. That's the puzzle. Idunno--but it must be something big. He has to hit us with something,doesn't he?"
Belle Bartlett: "Who ever heard of a party without a sell?"
Nancy Stoddard: "Who ever heard of a party going past ten without atleast a warm-up pitch? And Betty promised Fred to send both Ben andBennie to the Clinic for their Medchecks. You know we have the newest,finest diagnosticians--"
Fred Stoddard: "Nancy!"
Nancy Stoddard: "Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be selling you folks at_their_ party, should I? Come to think, you're all signed with Fredanyway, aren't you? Well, about Ben, _I_ think--"
Lucy Wilson: "Sh-h-h! Here they come."
* * * * *
Smiling, charming--and still not an order form in sight--Ben and Bettygot back to their guests. Another half hour. Barboy was passing aroundwith nightcaps. Lucy Wilson nervously put a reducegar to hersophisticated, peppermint-striped lips.
Quickly Ben Tilman was on his feet. He pulled a small, metal cylinderfrom his pocket with a flourish and held it out on his open palm towardLucy. A tiny robot Statue of Liberty climbed from the cylinder, walkedacross Ben's hand, smiled, curtsied and reached out to light thereducegar with her torch, piping in a high, thin voice, "Amalgamatedreducegars are cooler, lighter, finer."
"Ben! How simply darling!"
"Do you like it? It's a new thing from Amalgamated NovelDiv. You canprogram it for up to a hundred selective sell phrases, audio or visiokey. Every salesman should have one. Makes a marvelous gift, andsurprisingly reasonable."
"So that's it, Ben. I just love it!"
"Good! It's yours, compliments of Amalgamated."
"But--then you're not selling them? Well, what on earth--?"
"Damn it, Ben," Fred Stoddard broke in, "come on, man, out with it. Whatin hell _are_ you selling? You've given us the shakes. What is it? TheBarboy set? It's great. If I can scrape up the down payment, I'll--"
"_After_ we furnish a nursery with a decent Nana, Fred Stoddard," Nancysnapped, "and get a second soar-kart. Ben isn't selling Barboys anyway,are you. Ben? It _is_ that sweet, sweet Nana, isn't it? And I do wantone, the whole nursery, Playmate and all, girl-programmed of course,for our Polly."
"_Is_ it the nursery, Betty?" Lucy pitched in her credit's worth. "Makehim tell us, darling. We have enjoyed everything so much, the dinner,the Tri-deo, this whole lovely, lovely place of yours. Certainly thehouse warming has been perfectly charming."
"And that's it," said Ben smiling, a sheaf of paper forms suddenly inhis hand.
"What? Not--?"
"The house, yes. Amalgamated's Country Gentleman Estate, complete,everything in it except Bennie, Betty and me. Your equity in your Centerco-op can serve as down payment, easy three-generation terms, issueinsurance. Actually, I can show you how, counting in your entertainment,vacation, incidental, and living expenses, the Country Gentleman willhonestly cost you less."
"Ben!"
"How simply too clever!"
Ben let it rest there. It was enough. Fred Stoddard, after a shortscuffle with Scoville Wilson for the pen, signed the contract with aflourish. Sco followed.
"There!"
"There now, Ben," said Betty, holding Bennie a little awkwardly in herarms in the soar-kart. They had moved out so the Stoddards could moveright in. Now they were on their way in to their reserved suite atAmalgamated's Guest-ville. "You were absolutely marvellous. Imagineselling all three of them!"
"There wasn't anything to it, actually."
"Ben, how can you say that? Nobody else could have done it. It was asales masterpiece. And just think. Now salesmen all over the hemisphereare going to follow your sales plan. Doesn't it make you proud? Happy?Ben, you aren't going to be like _that_ again?"
No, of course he wasn't. He was pleased and proud. Anyway, the Old Manwould be, and that, certainly, was something. A man had to feel goodabout winning the approval of Amalgamated's grand Old Man. And it didseem to make Betty happy.
But the actual selling of the fool house and even the two other,identical houses on the other side of the hill--he just couldn't seem toget much of a glow over it. He had done it; and what had he done? It wasthe insurance and the toothbrushes all over again, and the old nervous,sour feeling inside.
"At least we do have a vacation trip coming out of it, hon. The O.M.practically promised it yesterday, if our sell sold. We could--"
"--go back to that queer new 'Do It Yourself' camp up on the lake youinsisted on dragging me to the last week of our vacation last summer.Ben, really!" He _was_ going to be like that. She knew it.
"Well, even you admitted it was some fun."
"Oh, sort of, I suppose. For a little while. Once you got used to thewhole place without one single machine that could think or do even thesimplest little thing by itself. So, well, almost like being savages. Doyou think it would be safe for Bennie? We can't watch him all the time,you know."
"People used to manage in the old days. And remember those people, theBurleys, who were staying up there?"
"That queer, crazy bunch who went there for a vacation when the Camp wasfirst opened and then just stayed? Honestly, Ben! Surely you're notthinking of--"
"Oh, nothing like that. Just a vacation. Only--"
Only those queer, peculiar people, the Burleys had seemed so relaxed andcheerful. Grandma and Ma Burley cleaning, washing, cooking on theancient electric stove; little Donnie, being a nuisance, poking at thekeys on his father's crude, manual typewriter, a museum piece; Donnieand his brothers wasting away childhood digging and piling sand on thebeach, paddling a boat and actually building a play house. It was mad.People playing robots. And yet, they seemed to have a wonderful timewhile they were doing it.
"But how do you keep staying here?" he had asked Buck Burley, "Why don'tthey put you out?"
"Who?" asked Buck. "How? Nobody can sell me on leaving. We like it here.No robot can force us out. Here we are. Here we stay."
* * * * *
They pulled into the Guest-ville ramp. Bennie was fussy; the nurseryNana was strange to him. On impulse, Betty took him in to sleep in theirroom, ignoring the disapproving stares of both the Nana and the Roboywith their things.
They were tired, let down. They went to bed quietly.
In the morning Betty was already up when Ben stumbled out of bed. "Hi,"she said, nervously cheerful. "The house Nanas all had overload thismorning and I won't stand for any of those utility components withBennie. So I'm taking care of him myself."
Bennie chortled and drooled vita-meal at his high-chair, unreprimanded.Ben mustered a faint smile and turned to go dial a shave, cool showerand dress at Robather.
That done, he had a bite of breakfast. He felt less than top-sale, butbetter. Last night _had_ gone well. The Old Man would give them apre-paid vacation clearance to any resort in the world or out. Whygloom?
He rubbed Bennie's unruly hair, kissed Betty and conveyed over fromGuest-ville to office.
Message-sec, in tone respect-admiration A, told him the Old Man waswaiting for him. Susan, the human receptionist in the outer office,favored him with a dazzling smile. There was a girl who could sell; andhad a product of her own, too.
The Old Man was at his big, oak desk but, a signal honor, he got up andcame half across the room to grab Ben's hand and shake it. "Got the fullreport, son. Checked the tapes already. That's selling, boy! I'm proudof you. Tell you what, Ben. Instead of waiting for a sales slack, I'mgoing to move you and that
sweet little wife of yours right into aspanking new, special Country Gentleman unit I had in mind for myself.And a nice, fat boost in your credit rating has already gone down toaccounting. Good? Good. Now, Ben, I have a real, artistic saleschallenge that is crying for your talent."
"Sir? Thank you. But, sir, there is the matter of the vacation--"
"Vacation? Sure, Ben. Take a vacation anytime. But right now it seems tothe Old Man you're on a hot selling streak. I don't want to see you getoff the track, son; your interests are mine. And wait till you getyour teeth into this
The Real Hard Sell Page 3
