San Diego, California
February 28, 1974
2:34 p.m. Pacific Standard Time
A few miles east of the City of San Diego, Marsha’s lip curling in obvious disgust…
“This isn’t such a great neighborhood.”
Matter of fact, Mitchell thought, it’s a really shitty neighborhood.
‘Reading’ Marsha and Mitchell over lunch. Pegging them as a fairly intelligent couple that quite possibly liked to… or did live beyond their means. Knowing if they like a property enough they ‘would’ spend beyond their means and then find ways to pay for it.
Purposely taking them to this ‘dump’ first…
“You’re right, Marsha, but following your basic requirements I wanted to show you what you can get for your money.”
The front lawn of this sun faded light blue stucco, time worn wood shake roof one story home with attached double garage was weedy with the grass well into the process of becoming completely burnt.
“This place looks, uh, really shitty, Len.”
“Yeah, I know, Mitch. But with a little money, some maintenance and a lot of watering it’ll come back.”
Thinking, More money than I want to spend and more maintenance than I want to do.
“You said It has a pool?”
“It does, Mitch. And it’s nice inside, you’ll see.”
Thinking, let’s see what we can get for our money. “Okay...” Marsha said “...so long as we’re here, we may as well see it.”
A minor close?
Though the wall to wall carpeting in the living room a bit threadbare however the interior was surprising well maintained and yes, there were four bedrooms with a nice sized kitchen and, though going to seed with what at one time might have been a pretty back yard, there was a swimming pool… with considerable rust and black algae spotting.
“I’ve a great list of people and can recommend some really good gardeners. And if you get the pool resurfaced…”
A minor close?
Leonard Goodman beginning to sound like a voice from the past and for some reason the name ‘Al’ coming to mind.
“What’s the price of this place?”
Looking at the ‘listing sheet’, handing Marsha a sales brochure, “Just reduced to eighty-five, nine from eighty-nine, nine.”
A minor close?
“No!” Marsha said emphatically, “I don’t like it!”
A ten minute ride from the house in ‘Lemon Grove’; the house in ‘Spring Valley’ was in a nicer neighborhood, but, at eighty-five, nine also, the house was in worse disrepair, and no pool.
Going further south to ‘National City’.
“This house is okay” Marsha said.
“Yeah...” Mitchell added “...and the neighborhood's okay.”
However… A short half a block from the ‘805 Freeway’, the continual roar of traffic was evident and even for the short time they were there, a rather nerve-racking din.
The showing of the first three houses had gone exactly as Leonard expected. Having played the Realtor's game of showing prospective home buyers low end properties within their price range, or slightly less than their price range caused their expectations to lower. As planned, he now moved on to the more expensive properties.
Heading further south to ‘Chula Vista’, Leonard showed a pretty four bedroom home with an ‘eat in kitchen’ large enough for a family of six but without a pool and priced thousands above their ‘top line’.
“This is nice, but Mitchie and me, and the kids would really like a pool. We may want to take another look here, but for now, let’s keep looking.”
Backtracking about sixteen miles, the Buick headed north to ‘La Mesa’… To a lovely Spanish style stucco covered house that had three bedrooms and a beautiful yard, with a pool, without rust and black algae spots.
“I like this, “Marsha said, “I really like this, but only three bedrooms? No, I think we’ll really be crowded with only three bedrooms.”
Still going as expected. “Okay...” Leonard said “...I’ve one more to show you today that’s not too far from here and I think you’ll really like this one!”
One of those remembrances that remained on the spherical fringe of Mitchell Lipensky’s memory… ‘Al’...Minor close?
About a ten minute drive to ‘El Cajon’, the house was everything Marsha and Mitchell had oped for.
The Spanish style beige stucco, red clay tile roof house had four bedrooms and a study/den with a huge kitchen/family room combination with built-ins that looked to be new.
The wall to wall carpeting – that would go nicely with their furniture – also appeared to be new. The front and rear lawns were perfectly manicured with a crystalline clear 14 X 40 foot pool with –Mitchell sighing – a Jacuzzi. However…
Walking through the house a second time, mentally placing their furniture.
“You’re right, Lennie! This house I like…
In the kitchen now, seeing herself in this lovely, sun-bright kitchen. “What’s it listed at?”
Well aware of the price! Well aware of this house because it was listed through his office – also well aware that he’d get a bonus for selling an ‘in office’ listing. – Studying the listing sheet…
“A hundred fifteen thousand,” Lennie said, quickly adding, “but…” Knowing the owners were pretty firm on their price, but also thinking that the Lipensky's would take a counter offer at near full price, or, most likely, at full price if presented to them. Lying, “…I think, maybe they’d take one-twelve.”
“I love this house!” Turning to her husband, “You like it, Mitch?”
“ ‘Do I like this place’? Yeah, of course I like it. It’s beautiful! I think it’s too much money for us. But it you like it…”
Pegging Marsha; rightfully pegging Marsha as the prime decision maker in their family. itching to write the deposit receipt, completely thrown back when she said…
“It’s really much more than we want to spend, so why don’t you let Mitchell and me think about it tonight and we’ll get back to you tomorrow morning.”
“This is a really ‘hot’ property, Marsha, and it’s a good bet that it won’t be here tomorrow.”
Hearing the words real estate people hate hearing…
“So, if it’s gone tomorrow, if we don’t get it, then it’s not meant to be that we have this house...” Marsha said “...so then we’ll keep looking.”
“Marsha, you’n’Mitch ‘really’ like this place and it may not be here tomorrow...” Lennie repeated “… so if you’d like, write me a small ‘sincere offer’ check and we can make a ‘low ball’ offer and see where it goes from there.”
Lenord Goodman’s selling technique….
‘Major close’...’Al’
The remembrance no longer remaining on the spherical fringe
of Mitchell Lipensky’s memory…
‘Al’...’Major close’!
Chic ago, Illinois
April 30, 1957
The small warehouse was in Skokie, located in the same light industrial complex where Mitchell had worked during his last year of high school.
Sitting on steel folding chairs, the eight potential ‘trainees’ watched and listened to the man that had introduced himself simply as ‘Al’.
Demonstrating the ‘pitch’, Al stood behind a kitchen table pitching to an attractive young woman wearing slacks and a blouse who had been introduced simply as ‘Ann’ who sat at the far right of the table with her chair angled towards the trainees.
On the table was an assortment of stainless steel pots, pans and skillets of varying sizes that had, somehow, come out of two large, imitation leather suitcases.
In a well practised demonstration, Ann parried each of Al’s selling points, by rote, with an objection that in turn was rebutted by Al, by rote, who continued the pitch as smoothly as running water.
“But there’s ‘so’ much here! I’ll never need ‘all’ of it!”
“Maybe not now, Miss Smith, but this is for your hope chest. For when you and, uh, what did you say your fiance's name is?”
Turning to the trainees… “Many women respond to our calls because they either are getting married or hope to get married.”
Turning his attention back to ‘Miss Smith’.…
“ ‘Harry’,” Miss Smith said.
“When you and Harry get married, you ‘do’ plan on having a family, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course we want children.”
To the trainees... “Try to get her used to saying ‘yes’.”
To Miss Smith... “Then you’ll need this...” lifting the one quart saucepan, “...for heating the baby’s bottles. And this...” pointing to the largest pot, “...for those special times when you have your and Harry’s families over for dinner.”
Forcing a giggle, “I burn water.”
“I think not with these, Miss Smith. You see our cooking utensils all come with a ‘space age’, heat conducting core…” tapping the bottom of the saucepan, “...that makes it almost impossible for ‘anyone’...” forcing a laugh, “...even you, Miss Smith to burn ‘anything’! You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Miss Smith?”
“Oh, ‘yes’!”
“And we have another feature found in ‘no’ other cooking utensil. This is our patented ‘Spin Seal lid’.”
Taking the lid from the one quart sauce pan, using a spray bottle Al sprayed the outer edge of the lid. Placing the lid back onto the pot, spinning it, Al then held the pot a foot off the table by the lid handle.
“See, we form a perfect ‘water seal’ on your pot that retains all the healthful, valuable vitamins and minerals your family will need. That’s a pretty wonderful feature, wouldn’t you say, Miss Smith?”
“Oh, yes!”
“And you ‘would’ be happy if you ‘could’ make dinner for your fiancé’s family, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, of ‘course’ I would!”
“Well, Miss Smith, with this ‘wonderful’ set of ‘marvellous’ heat conducting, stainless steel cook wear, your meals will practically cook themselves! That is pretty wonderful, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is!”
“But you know what? That’s not ‘all’ there is, Miss Smith, because we also give you, ‘absolutely free’, this ‘wonderful’ set of cutlery.”
Opening an oblong cardboard box, lifting each item individually and holding it forward, Al showed the trainees…
If this were a movie, Mitchell had thought, there’d be a drum roll.
Al laid out an assortment of imitation bone-handled knives, including a carving knife and fork, four paring knives of varying sizes and six serrated-edge steak knives.
Once again speaking to ‘Miss Smith’...
“In addition to this wonderful set of our patented heat conducting, stainless steel cookware…” Al said, sweeping his hand across the table with a flourish, “…and this practical set of ‘beautiful’ knives, we will also give you, ‘absolutely free’, this two volume set of ‘The Bride’s Cookbook’.”
Holding one in each hand, Al showed the two 8x10 paperback books to the trainees, then handed both to ‘Miss Smith’ who pretended to look through them.
“Now, Miss Smith...” Al went on, “… if you can find them, the cookbooks alone would sell for ‘at least’ five dollars each in ‘any’ book store! But the books are given to you ‘absolutely free! And they are in addition to this wonderful set of carving utensils that are also free!”
Allowing the words to sink in Al waited a number of seconds.
Then once again dramatically sweeping his arm over the miscellany of pots, pans, knives and books. “And we will give ‘all’ of this to you for the wonderfully low, ‘direct’ factory to you ‘wholesale’ price of ‘just’ one hundred, twenty dollars! Seems too good to be true , doesn’t it, Miss Smith?”
Walking around the tale, sitting on the edge. “Remember, each time you get her to say ‘yes’ you’ve got a ‘minor close’. And each time you’ve got a minor close, you’re that much closer to a ‘major close’.”
Momentarily looking from man to man.
Going back to the other side of the table, he nodded to Ann, who said…
“All of this! For ‘only’ one hundred and twenty dollars?”
“Yes, Miss Smith! You ‘do’ want this set, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes! Only problem is, I just can’t afford it.”
“Sure you can, Miss Smith! With our E-Z Credit Plan. With just… How much did you say you’re going to put down, Miss Smith?”
Looking at the trainees... “Close by ‘assumption’!” Al said, nodding at Ann.
“Would twenty dollars be enough?”
“Yes, twenty dollars will be just fine, Miss Smith. Here…” reaching into one of the suitcases, Al removed an order pad, “…let me show you how we can work it out…. Okay, Ann, thanks.”
San Diego, California
February 28, 1974
“Marsha, you’n’Mitch ‘really’ like this place and it may not be here tomorrow...” Lennie repeated “… so if you’d like, write me a small ‘sincere offer’ check and we can make a ‘low ball’ offer and see where it goes from there.”
Becoming annoyed at his pushing…
“You’re right, Len…” Marsha said “...I really do like this house, but ours just hit the market today and I do ‘not’ want to make this kind of a commitment until we, ‘at least’ hear what the other brokers think of our price.”
Wanting a sale under his belt or at least to ‘make an offer’ on this day, but catching Marsha’s tone of voice.
“Okay, that’s a good idea.” Looking at his information sheet, “I see you’re staying at ‘’The Shelter Inn’ on Shelter Island. Good choice, it’s really beautiful there and they’ve a great restaurant overlooking the ocean.”
Remembering ‘Al’ and the ‘pitch’ and thinking of the resemblance in the sequence in the houses Goodman had presented. Considering the parallels Mitchell had been quiet.
“Don’t all restaurants here overlook the ocean?”
“Not all, Marcie.”
“It’ll have to go pretty far to beat where you took us for lunch.”
In the Buick now, driving to Shelter Island. By Mitchell’s choice, Marsha now in the front seat.
“I’ll call you in the morning at… Give me some time to see what else may be available and I’ll call you in your room at, say, ‘eleven.”
“As soon as we check in we’re going to call Alice, uh, our broker to see what happened at the house today.”
Glancing at Marsha. “I’ll also check to see if that last house is still available.”
Cooling on both the house and ‘especially’ Leonard. “Like the house, don’t like the price…” Mitchell said from the rear seat “... so we’ll see about that.”
****
Checking into the Shelter Inn,…
“You’re in room 422…” the desk manager said handing him two keys along with two 4X4 message slips. “…and you’ve two calls, Mister Lipensky.”
Taking the keys and the message slips…
One was an ‘urgent’ from Alice, the other an ‘urgent’ from ‘Sophie Chen’ of ‘Century 21, San Diego’ along with her phone number.
Next BOW Life Goes On #10
