The road into the campground went right by the building where we worked. There was an outer room where visitors entered for their appointment to see one of us. A phone sales team had called them and set the appointment. They had come to learn about owning a membership in the campground. We were on a number system. “You’re next,” was the call to put down whatever we were doing to distract ourselves. It was our turn to sell the prospect, usually a couple, the value of belonging. It was 2001. Del and I had moved to Ohio for a short time to see his family, but I needed to work in the meantime. Years before I had decided that if I knew how to sell, I would always have a job. That turned out to be true in this case. I was hired the day I applied. While we waited for our turn to talk to a prospect, the rest of the sales team spent their time either gossiping or smoking or trying to grab a few moments of sleep. I was busy on my computer.