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Personal Narrative: Racetrack

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Looking back, the first sign of trouble was the contest quota that I missed by nearly fifteen percent. After my initial hot streak, I took the news hard. A few of the veterans in the sales department patted me on the back, reassuring me that it was just a temporary setback. “Go get ‘em next time,” they said. Problem was, “next time” came and I didn’t reach my sales quota again—this time missing by twenty percent. Then it happened again. And again. Until pretty soon, each contest became an instant replay of my futility. I was like an egg, broken on the kitchen floor, trying to keep my yoke from leaking out. With each defeat, I was increasingly at a loss to explain what was happening. Were my quotas too high? Was the marketplace getting tougher? Was the economy to blame? I reached out for help. First, I went to my sales manager. He did the best he could, even going so far as to accompany me on several of my sales calls, and then analyzing my performance. Eventually, however, he had to beg off. He didn’t say it, but there was little time for handholding in our …show more content…

The “racetrack” was actually a long magnetic drawing board that hung on the wall outside his office. With the help of someone from the company’s graphics department, armed with a rainbow of Sharpies, the board had been transformed into an elaborate work of art. There was a designated racing lane for each salesperson. Between the starting gate and the finish line, signposts were placed at regular intervals showing progressively higher sales volumes, and finally, the individual quotas we were expected to reach. For amusement, there was even a grandstand where magazine pictures of famous people were taped as though they had come to watch the race. Julia Roberts. Albert Einstein. Miles Davis. Mother

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