Salesman Shook on Deal, Then Gave Buyer Back of Hand

If I had trusted The Salesman, I’d be steaming this morning after what he did to me. I’d be kicking the cat, cussing the paperboy and cutting off people in traffic.

It’s hard to feel good about things when you realize you’ve fallen for the old bait-and-switch.

I’d be furious remembering that I’d stood for hours under a hot midafternoon sun in Irvine a month ago, waiting for The Salesman to arrive. I’d remember how fervently he made his pitch.

It wouldn’t be easy, he said.

There’s a long way to go, he said.

I’d remember him talking about the courageous pioneers trekking across America a century ago (cowards never started the trip, and the quitters never finished it, he said).

I’d remember him invoking Winston Churchill and exhorting the crowd to “never give in. Never give in. Never. Never. Never.” I’d remember him talking about Lech Walesa’s courage in the face of overwhelming odds. Did we have that kind of staying power, he asked.

I’d especially remember his challenge that hot afternoon: Would we “stay in the ring” with him, no matter what?

Yes, if I’d been a Ross Perot supporter, I’d be furious this morning.

Well, I’m not a Perot supporter, but I’m still ticked off.

Perot got into this race, or so he said, to give government back to the people. He was going to clean out the barn of cynical, corrupt politicians and give the people a government as good as they were.

When last seen, Perot was heading for home with his $3 billion and no doubt mouthing the words, “So long, sucker.”

While many of my smart friends told me Perot was playing charades, many other smart ones bought his pitch. Perot was beholden to no one, they said, and had the strength of his convictions. Besides, they argued, how much worse off could the country get?

I never embraced Perot himself, but I was interested in the support. I thought his message would continue hitting a national nerve and, more important, would energize politics at a time when it badly needed it. I at least expected him to stick around long enough to say he had tried.

So, yeah, color me stupid, too.

Now that he’s folded, Perot has shown himself to be much more cynical, manipulative and uncaring than the career politicians he’s been bashing.

This is his idea of restoring people’s faith?

His classless withdrawal is more likely to intensify people’s sense of disillusionment and disaffection for anything that smacks of politics. Maybe Perot wasn’t taking things seriously, but his supporters were.

Thanks, Ross, this is just what the country needed in 1992.

Like all phony sales pitches, you kick yourself afterward for not seeing it earlier. Orange County was considered ripe Perot territory, and maybe it’s no accident we’ve long been national leaders in falling for boilerplate scams.

Why can’t we spot a con?

Why weren’t we suspicious when Perot said he didn’t really want the job, but that, shucks, he’d take it if we gave it to him? Why weren’t we suspicious when we wanted to see the goods and he said he’d huddle with his experts and get back to us eventually? Why didn’t we see that as the equivalent of the shady salesman who goes to talk to the sales manager and never comes back?

So, go ahead, Orange County. Slap yourself for falling for the guy. Ask yourself how you could have been so gullible. Go into a funk for a few days, then come out of it and make a decision this fall between Bush and Clinton.

Look at it this way, if you’d bought the Perot model, the engine probably would have blown sometime around April of next year.

In the end, Ross Perot was true to his calling in life.

He began as a salesman and ended as one. He shook our hand, slapped us on the back, told a few jokes and asked us about the family. “Let’s see if we can’t work this thing out together, shall we?” he said, persuasively. “Let’s close this deal.”

When he was selling IBMs, it worked.

But when it came to politics, The Salesman didn’t believe in his own product. Turns out he didn’t even have a product.

And without a product and with the sales territory suddenly looking a lot less fertile, The Salesman did what he had to for survival: he stuffed everything into a suitcase and left town, leaving sadder but wiser would-be buyers holding a bag of dashed hopes.

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, Calif. 92626, or calling (714) 966-7821.