He closed the case and ran his hand across the various items in the boot, talking to himself as he mentally ticked them off. ‘Gasket, polish, order book, resin, spare treadle, distaff balance, counterweights . . .’ His hand came to rest on two stovepipe hats. ‘Not forgetting the most important thing of all . . .’ He turned round and said with a wink, ‘Couple of stoveys for the ladies!’
We drove up Penglais Hill, windows wound right down, squinting at the bright asphalt that rose ahead of us. Meici had a Tupperware sandwich box balanced on his knee, and took periodic bites from a bacon sandwich that dripped fat on to the steering wheel.
‘My mam makes them extra greasy,’ said Meici. ‘I told her I like them like that but I don’t really. I’ll cop it if she ever finds out the truth. She says every time I tell a lie an angel marks it down in a book. Does your mum say that?’
‘My mum died when I was little.’
‘Oh. Who do you live with then?’
‘Nobody.’
Meici looked across at me as if to check whether I was being serious. ‘Really? Where?’
‘I have a caravan out at Ynyslas.’
Meici nodded. ‘We live near Bwlchcrwys.’ He considered for a second and then said suddenly, ‘Guess how many games teachers there are in our family? Go on, guess.’
I looked puzzled.
‘Four,’ said Meici with evident pride. ‘Three uncles and my grandad. What do you think of that?’
‘Very good.’
‘Yeah, isn’t it?’
‘Weren’t you tempted yourself?’
‘No, not for me. We thought for a while my brother Esau might . . . he was born hairy, you see . . .’ A thought clouded his brow. ‘But I don’t want to talk about Esau.’ He turned round to Calamity in the back. ‘Did you bring any crayons?’
I could sense her eyes narrowing.
‘What for?’ she said.
‘You might find it a bit boring watching me doing the old black magic. Thought maybe you could go outside and draw some nice pictures or something.’ He finished the last sandwich and handed me the Tupperware box. ‘Hold on to that, Lou, I’ll be needing it later.’ He licked the snail trails of grease that ran down the back of his hand.
We drove over the brow of Penglais Hill, a flow of cars bumper to bumper headed past us on the right, into town. Some were going to work but their numbers had been swollen by those staying in caravans up and down the coast. Meici expounded on the subtle art of the spinning-wheel salesman. ‘The main drawback with wheels is they are traditional, see, so there aren’t many firms left that still make them and the ones that do take a lot of pride in their work. The stuff they make lasts a lifetime, but what’s the good of that? One month on the road and you would have saturated the market. This drawback is your opportunity, too. Delicate things they are, spinning wheels, that’s if you want to keep the yarn at its optimum, so they always need a little tinker under the hood. They could probably do it themselves, the dears, but it voids the warranty doesn’t it? That’s the trick, you see. Always sell the extended warranty, and all the other bits and bobs, the wheel is just the beginning.’ He looked over and asked, ‘Know what of?’
‘Er . . . I don’t know.’
‘Beginning of a beautiful relationship.’
‘Of course!’
‘They get to trust you like a son after a while so then you can start hitting them for stuff they don’t need, persuade them to have a service that isn’t necessary.’
‘How do you do that?’
‘Fiddle the log book, put it down for more spins than it’s had. Sometimes, if you’ve been with them for a few years, and they seldom change once they’ve got a relationship, they start asking you to fetch their pension. You can always skim some off that. “Oh it’s not as much as it used to be,” they say, and you sympathise: “Oh I know, it’s the economy, you see.” Stuff like that. Here listen—’
Meici reached across and turned on the cassette player. A tape squeaked into life and a female voiceover chirruped in that bedtime story voice that all adult education audio tapes seem to have:
Welcome to unit 5 of Selling Isn’t Telling, the pro-salesman’s guide to Ninja selling. In the last unit we discussed the key importance of the ‘close’ as the foundation of all successful sales pitches. Do you remember how novice salesman Frankie Marshall saw all his hard work go to waste because he was too shy to ask for the order? We learned that it often helps to memorise this lesson in the form of a little mnemonic, didn’t we? Did you do one? If you did, repeat your mnemonic now.
Meici said, ‘Don’t sell like a girly, close that sale and close it early.’
There, that was fun, wasn’t it?
Meici turned to me. ‘Some of this stuff might be a bit advanced for you, Lou, but try and follow as best you can.’
Today we will be looking at an advanced closing technique based on the trademark exit routine of the famous 1970s TV detective, Lieutenant Columbo. See how salesman Harry Pryce uses this technique to get his prospect to sign the order. But before we go on, did you spot the deliberate mistake I just made? [Pause.] That’s right, we never ask the prospect to sign the order, do we? What do we do instead?
Meici answered almost before she had finished speaking. ‘Ask him to OK it.’ He switched off the tape. ‘We probably won’t need to do the Columbo today, Lou, I’ll stick to the basics so you don’t get confused. Just watch how I do it. And if there is anything you don’t understand, don’t be afraid to ask.’
We passed Tre’r-ddôl and turned right and drove up a pot-holed road into a forestry commission plantation.
‘Lives with her son, she does,’ said Meici, ‘although he’s not around much, thank God. He deals in rare stamps and coins and things, so he travels a lot. Good job, too, he’s the sort of guy who reads the small print on behalf of his mam. Her granddaughter lives there, too, lovely girl she is, only seventeen and never been kissed. Well, that’s what she says, but who knows with kids these days?’ He turned to Calamity. ‘I’spect you’ve got a boyfriend, have you?’
‘Not until she’s twenty-one,’ I said quickly, to spare Calamity, or at least stop her saying something that might get us thrown out of the car.
‘Lot of guys my age wouldn’t stand a chance with a looker like her,’ said Meici, ‘but I been working on Arianwen for a while now, using the old black magic. Wheels in motion, if you see what I mean.’
He turned and gave me his inscrutable look, the one that said, ‘Strangle me.’
‘Is there something wrong with her eyesight?’ said Calamity.
Meici thought about his answer. ‘Not that I’m aware. Although you could say she only has eyes for me.’ The road narrowed to a single track without tarmac and the car began to bounce violently; we lurched from side to side. Meici chuckled and continued, oblivious to the bumps. ‘Yeah, you could say she was my girl in a way but don’t tell anyone in case it gets back to my mam. I sent her a dress last week, really nice one, it was – from the catalogue. I had to wait for the postman at the end of the lane so mam wouldn’t find out. It’s got polka dots on it, they’re supposed to be the best, but when you look at them closely you’ll see that they are really tomatoes. That’s called an optician’s illusion. She’ll be wearing it today so you’ll be able to see it for yourself.’ He pulled over to the side of the road and parked, saying, ‘What time is it, Lou?’