Rudolph was pacing to and from the aisles, clearly agitated. It is five in the afternoon and he had closed only two sales for the day. His quota was ten and he kept looking at his watch. It was a slow day, a Wednesday where nothing happens. A few shoppers were milling in, some were rushing past in transit, others were simply looking around. Before long, the night shoppers would come and he knew he had to work doubly fast if he was going to reach his quota at all. He wasn’t confident at all, having started last week ago. But his performance for the month will determine whether he will be staying or not. Remembering his bills and the number of concerns he had to address, Rudolph straightened out his suit and promised himself he would make the last eight count.

Selling an expensive line of perfume...