Allow me to introduce you to Mitch Clinton.
Mitch was my crew leader for most of my six months as a travelling door to door encyclopedia salesman. When not selling, Mitch was one of the crudest, rudest, most foul-mouthed and dirty-minded people I've ever known. Now, I mean that in the nicest possible way. He was actually a pretty decent guy: lots of fun, occasionally quite funny, a pretty good friend, honest and reliable about money matters, and occasionally endearingly protective of his crew. It's just that he was a pig.
For example, when the five of us would share a motel room with a single bathroom, Mitch was not into taking turns. If several people needed to urinate at the same time, as far as Mitch was concerned, they could simply gather around the toilet and do their business. Now, I suppose if we were from a country with mandatory military service, this might have been less shocking, but to me this was so uncivilised as to be not only inconceivable, but actually physically impossible, a fact that Mitch found quite amusing.
Of course, it's impossible to live with such people for six months without some of these character traits rubbing off. In fact, remind me to talk about my reintegration into society afterwards some day. In some ways, it's like getting out of prison. And when I say "live with," please understand that we would only be home about two weekends a month. The rest of the time, we were on the road together.
There was a girl who by the time I started working there had mostly quit, but who had been Mitch's crew leader once upon a time, and who would still occasionally come by the office to check in or to help with training new crews, and would do some door knocking in Vancouver in her spare time. One day on the road Mitch decided to share with his crew -- in embarrassingly sordid detail -- the affair that he and she had had on the road once. Folks, suffice it to say that the details are not for the faint hearted, and shall not be shared here. What a pig.
One time, Andy Bailey and I were lying on the bed and teasing Mitch about something or other while he was walking by. We must have gotten him good, because he ran out of insults and replies, leaving him with only one weapon to get us back with: the red eye. He had told us about it once before, but I never imagined I'd be on the receiving end of one.
The "red eye" is basically a variation of "mooning" someone, except after the trousers are dropped, the . . . uh . . . cheeks are spread, revealing . . . uh . . . far too much.
It happened so quickly.
Andy and I had no chance to close our eyes or turn away. The image of the
(red eye)
bum was seared into our memories forever. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can still see it. Andy and I both covered our eyes and screamed, "Ahhhhhhh! It burns! It's not going away!"
What a pig.
If Mitch took anything seriously, it was sales. Not just how many encyclopedias he and his crew were selling, but sales as a concept, as a way of life, as a religion. He would get us to talk about selling in our spare time. Strategies, tactics, keywords, attitudes, and more. This was life.
Welcome to the world of Mitch Clinton.
