Sell or ElseConfessions of an Advertising Man

1948, 48th Street, hanging out the sign. Six thousand in the bank, reputation on the line. No clients in the lobby, just a list of only five. The giants of the market that I needed to survive. No fat in the budget, just fire in the spirit. White-hot morale—I wanted them to hear it. I pointed to the name at the top of the wall: Shell Oil. The first titan destined to fall. Walked into the Shell room, no toadies in the wake. Knowing every single word was a "make or break". They asked for the proof, they asked for the size. I gave 'em the truth right between the eyes: "We’re a new agency, struggling for our life". But hunger is the edge, sharper than a knife. The giants give you juniors, but we give you the best. Our survival is the signal we’ll pass the test. We can’t afford a failure, we can’t afford to sleep. The promises we make are the ones we have to keep. Door-to-door, page-to-page. Results the only gauge. We sell or else. We sell or else. It’s the check or the wreck. The rope or the neck. We sell—or else. We sell—or else. I arrived for the meeting, but the President had flown. Headed back to London, to the power and the throne. So I booked the next ticket, I chased him through the sky. The "miserable duffer" with a gleam in his eye. Ten days in a hotel, waiting for the break. Persistence is the only path a salesman can take. Finally he calls me: "Lunch at the Savoy?" But I’m already hosting a different kind of play, boy. I’ve got the Secretary of State sitting for a meal. I told the Shell President: "Come and join us for the deal". He saw the circles I moved in, the prestige and the pace. Signed the contract right there, with the smile on his face. Door-to-door, page-to-page. Results the only gauge. We sell or else. We sell or else. It’s the check or the wreck. The rope or the neck. We sell—or else. We sell—or else. We sell… Or else! Or else…