Lou was a teenager with a special gift. He could easily project fear into others without repercussion. He enjoyed the sweet pleasure of walking up to a stranger and whispering in their ear, “You will trip down stairs and die today,” and then walk away while the stranger looked back in horror at the cold smile building on Lou’s face. He didn’t feel remorse. He didn’t feel sad. He felt elated.
Lou wanted to murder without getting arrested so he studied at the School of Cormac McCarthy Psychopaths. Technically it wasn’t a school that one could get credentialed, but who’s counting when you have a goal that doesn’t require a degree.
Lou was all set on his path of menace and cruelty, until he read the fine print about psychopaths, which was a vow of poverty and frequent displacement from comfort. He loved the finer things of life, such as hard liquor to calm his frequent paranoia, fatty foods, and pretend sex, which was directly related to eating a fatty burger.
Upon reaching adulthood, Lou decided his gift was best served in the car sales industry, first as a car salesman and finally as a general sales manager. He could do two things. He could create massive fear to appease his cruel intentions while making massive amounts of money.
Lou became known as the Fixer. He was able to force an unprofitable dealership into profitability with aggression towards his employees. It led to a new dealership, a better salary and commission structure, and half ton truck loads of aggression.
Lou’s gift was based in the awareness that if you told a salesperson that he would be fired by the end of the day if he did not sell a car, that salesperson would enforce the same aggression on the customer to create fear, and ultimately sell a car. Lou needed the drug of greed as it fed his neurological system. When he bled, he only bled dollar bills and debt.
One day a cowgirl wearing a t-shirt with a “Sell with Integrity and Impeccability to Attract Clients” slogan stepped into Lou’s dealership determined to change the infrastructure of his dealership. “Your t-shirt is hard to read. It’s loaded with too many words.”
“Don’t read it. Feel the frequency of the words,” she responded.
“You’re very arrogant.” She didn’t say a word while he studied her body. She wore a gun belt wrapped around her waist. He asked, “What’s in your holster?”
She said, “A 45 of integrity and a 45 of impeccability.”
“I’ve never heard of that,” responded Lou. “It doesn’t exist.”
She laughed. “Oh cowhand of little faith. It does and you’re about to get shot in the heart.”
She pulled out her divine love gun of integrity and shot him in the heart, but technically it didn’t have bullets. The gun was loaded with commands that blasted all over his energy body and steeped deep into his DNA template and inner child. “Sell with integrity,” she said.
It hit him with such as force that he twitched, fell, and convulsed on a pile of finance papers and barbecue-laded Kelley Blue Book leads from the previous night.
He looked up and said, “I have one thing over you. I can lie and defame you so that no one will hire you in this town again! You’ll be begging to eat yesterday’s digested cheeseburger from my hand.”
She was immune to fear as she spent time in shamanic land, which was a free, non-credentialed school. “Not possible. I’m vegetarian,” she said. She pulled out her other 45 of impeccability and shot him in the heart a little stronger than before, which of course was a shot of commands to the heart. “Sell with integrity and impeccability.”
The second shot of commands confused him. He seemed pacified as if he was converted into a five-year-old who loved watching Tom and Jerry, Popeye, and Roadrunner. He remembered how fun it was to be a child, sing along with New Zoo Review, and clap along with Hee Haw. He must have died and gone to Heaven.
Soon, the cartoons and TV shows no longer mattered as he felt something expand in his heart region as if he was remembering that which he had forgotten eons ago. He felt he was god, not a little god, but a big god. He felt invincible because he didn’t feel fear or anxiety. He felt happy. He thought, “I bet I could walk on water in my shower. Maybe I could do more after that.”
“You can do more,” she said, reading his thoughts.
“You mean to tell me that as little god, I can sell a car to customers without aggressive behavior?”
“Yes,” she said. “Tell them the truth. They will buy.”
“You mean to tell me that as little god, I can sell a car to customers without creating fear?”
“Yes,” she said. “People love buying in the state of divine love. It’s the best form of energy as it is true to their nature.”
“I don’t know what divine love is,” he said.
“It’s what you are feeling, little god,” she responded.
He stood up with the help of a nearby golf club that he kept handy for whacking salespeople in the head. He looked at the golf club and said with a loud booming voice that all the sales team could hear, “From now on, I will use this golf club for the golf range instead of the low performing salespeople. From now on, I will order green juice for our sales meetings instead of energy drinks. From now on, I will spend the advertising budget on advertising instead of my mistress.”
“From now on, I will celebrate your success when you sell with integrity,” he said.
And so it was written in the records of Car Wars Dealership. And profits increased.
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