Hello there. Please excuse my acts of misconduct. I have a problem… sorry for the typos too… I’m writing this at 3am.
I have spent the last seven eight years of my life in a populous northeastern city of you the US. During this time I have gone from struggling college kid to struggling carpenter to general contractor and finally a, somewhat, thriving salesman.
I sell real estate. I rent apartments. I’m a realtor. I spend my days showing apartments to all sorts of people and analyzing new listings for investors. The majority of my time is spent in the car and the office. I am either on the move handling appointments or at my desk trying to manage a deal.
I wish that I had found this profession so much earlier in life but we can’t live backwards, unfortunately. The freedom of this job has enabled me to flourish financially and personally. I finally feel like myself. Helping people acquire real estate investments that will generate them money for years to come makes me happy. Assisting with single family deals is fun as well but not much makes me happier than seeing a friend or client close on a deal be a sound long term investment.
I also love the thrill of the hunt. Realtors are 100% commission. You eat what you kill. I’ve lived by this mantra since I was in the 4th grade. Since the first time I knocked on a door and asked to mow a lawn for $10 I was hooked. The thrill of the hunt. The independence. It’s freeing. It can be scary at times but it’s usually worth it.
Unfortunately, this thrill seeking has taken a hold of me outside of my professional life as well. More and more I find myself escaping from the late nights at the office with women I’ve encountered throughout the work day and women I’ve met in the night.
I guess we could start with tonight as our first confession…
I lumbered my 6’4” frame off the couch at 7:15 this morning and headed for the toilet. While relieving myself I shot a text to my team lead to confirm I was picking him up for work at 8:30. Today was to going to be an office day so we ride together, save on parking.
I turn on the Wall Street journals daily news podcast for and swallow some vitamins before hopping in the shower. Today’s shower is quick. It is a Thursday and I haven’t drank since Sunday. I consider this a substantial feet even if the abstinence is only doctors orders since starting the anti depressants.
My hair is fairly long and thick. I have some flow. So I blow dry it. I throw on a pair of chinos, dress shirt, a splash of cologne and my over coat. I take a call as I get my bag together. My dog is last. I put his leash on and we head out.
It’s cold today. I clench my coat shut as I step out onto the bustling street. Most of the city is alive by the time I enter it in the morning and I like that. I don’t miss the days of manual labor. I miss the sweat and honesty not the early mornings. I Shepard my dog to my Lincoln. The dogs name is Mo. he is the love of my love. The Lincoln is an 05’ town car and has less than 65k miles on it. The dog and the Lincoln are my main joys. I always admired the men in crime dramas. They always rode in large sedans. While I’ve never been much for crime I’ve always had a big ego so an oversized sedan with leather seats and dual climate control was a must. It may be older buts i bought it cash. The miles are low. The leather is mint. The ride is perfect and the road noise is nonexistent. It is the perfect car for phone calls and large frame. Parking is another story.
I drop Mo at my aunts as I do everyday. She works from home since covid and enjoys the company.
I make a stop for coffees and collect my comrade. We head to the office and get to work. The day passes quickly. I have a new listing and need to prepare marketing materials since it is being published today. My team lead and I argue about the crypto market and go about our work.
Around 11 AM I receive a message. It’s Leah. A local college student. She isn’t in the market for an apartment currently but who knows, she may be in the future. Her message is simple. A picture of her in her bent over in her silk pajama shorts. We are starting off the weekend strong this Thursday. Although, I’m sure she’s just hoping I’ll Venmo her some money for drinks that night as I did last weekend in my drunken state. I play along. Tell her what a good girl she is and heart the image. She send another and I heart it as well before getting back to work. I can’t tell if she actually wants to go out or if she just likes flirting, so for now I flirt back.
The day continues and I get my listing live and handle some other matters. It’s Thursday so the team lead and I have plans for the barber shop and football after work. It’s December as well though and there is a tree lighting at city hall. Before the barbershop we meet with the our team owner and his kid at the lighting. I bring a couple Hershey’s kisses and a hot wheels car for the kid that I picked up after my showings. I’m a sucker for kids and my bosses is especially shy. I’m trying to win him over.
Before leaving the 4 year old sugar high and car crazed I slick his palm with two quarters. He’s happy and that makes me happy for a moment. My team lead, Arron, and I leave before the tree is lit and head for the liquor store.
We grab a limited bottle of bourbon and an Irish whiskey then jump in an Uber heading to the barbershop.
At the barbershop we lay out a handful of bottles of bourbons and scotches. We plan to have a little tasting. A couple friends of my team lead join us and we chat about the whiskey while each of us gets our beards trimmed or hair cut. Arron is friends with the owner and he drinks with us while he cuts. The talk is standard. Football. The real estate market. Current events. Crypto. Friendly teasing and comparing of watches.
I post an image on my social media of the bottles we have out. Not shared to my whole following, just close friends. Don’t want my clients getting the wrong idea. A few minutes later I have a new message. It isn’t Leah this time. Instead it’s Fiona. The message reads “did someone say whiskey?” And there is an image of her backside. She’s wearing yoga pants and a cropped t shirt with the jack daniels logo on the back. Fiona’s 24, stunning and married. I can’t resist this. I flirt back. Soon after I get message from Leah as well, confirming her desire for free drinks on Thursday night. I ignore it.
Eventually the barber shuts shop and 5 guys are left on the sidewalk. We head for the nearest bar to continue our night. We order food, more drinks and contour or talk of nonsense. I’m teased for my lack of knowledge about guy Richie films. I play along being the youngest of the group.
My phone continues to vibrate. Fiona is bored. Flirt with her. She sends me more pictures and I say stupid things I wouldn’t have if I wasn’t drinking. This eggs her on and the messages keep coming. She isn’t serious. She just wants to flirt. She’s married and has no intention of meeting up with me. I let it go.
We continue our bullshit. A couple of the guys start flirting with the middle aged bar tender. She’s cute but definitely not interested. I take this as the sign it’s past all our bed times and start to round off the evening. We settle the check and go out deprecate ways.
It’s 11:45 and I’m tipsy. My cars at the office and I could probably drive but I shouldn’t. I walk that direction anyways. I hear my phone ping again but don’t check it. I stop at an ATM and hail a cab. The strip club is a short walk from my house. My car can stay at the office tonight.
I walk into the nearly dead club and order a light beer. The club is small and dingy. It’s in the heart of downtown and has a reputation for being mediocre. I like this. Decent girls dancing for decent money. It’s a no pressure environment. You can sit with a beer and just tip the girl on stage or chat one of the other girls up before going to the private rooms for dances.
I just got home. It’s 4AM and I have an 8:30. Gotta sleep. To be continued…
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/r7v7g1/confessions_of_a_salesman_m27