OP-F?? Salesmanship

[Oscar 0]

There were three main rules of salesmanship:

One: Look fresh as fuck.

Rules two and three said to “see rule one.” It came to him in a dream - as most things often did. Oscar never stopped to ponder why his dreams were filled with ice cream and meat tubes and conceptions that came straight out of a chaos gremlin’s diary. In fact, he never stopped to ponder why he didn’t bother pondering.

Chaos was the name of the game and he was the ringmaster in a blacked out suit and hella sick shades. And what chaos had grabbed him by the short and curlies today? Door-to-door sales. The best way to inflict maximum damage upon his unsuspecting friends and associates. He even roped his old Guildies into the mix. Morningstar his Blues Brothers partner-in-crime and Acanthus filling the most important role: the vacuum.

How does a person become a vacuum?

Easy.

You just give ‘em a sit n’ scoot from elementary school and tell ‘em to clean.

 

Salesmen and vacuum will visit random players.
Salesmen and Vacuum have 1 post each to reach a LD threshold of 60, no bonuses apply. This will determine successful sale.
Customer must post in between each Salesmen/Vacuum post.

[Acanthus 0]

It was becoming more and more apparent that Oscar's reality-warping weirdness extended to those around him as well. One minute Acanthus had seen Oscar in the wild, and struck up conversation out of politeness. Ten minutes later, she stood outside someone's house, dressed in an unnecessarily ornate maid outfit and carrying a wheeled board in her crossed arms like a serving platter. What could have happened in those ten minutes, Acanthus still wasn't sure. Here she was, sober as a funeral, somehow making dumber decisions than she had blackout drunk.

Acanthus stared so intently ahead that she kept activating her searching skill by mistake. "Oscar, I want to be very clear. I'm helping you sell vacuums because it's going to get us out of here faster. Somehow." She wasn't sure how, and she didn't care: likely another effect of Oscar's aura, "You said I would be assisting with the cleaning. I did not want to get one of my new suits dirty, and I didn't want to show up to stranger's houses looking like I was pulled out of the dirty clothes pile. So I settled on... whatever you want to call this." (There had been simpler outfits, but she thought the lace on the headpiece added a nice flair. She planned to kill the first person that suggested as much.)

"But I want to be very. Clear." Acanthus spoke through gritted teeth. "If I hear a single out-of-line comment about the outfit. Even one. I will be earning my orange marker today."

Edited Tuesday at 07:03 PM by Acanthus

[Morningstar 0]

Suit? Check.

Tie? Check.

Chipper smile? Uncheck. What the hell was he doing?

Money was tight. Was it? No, not really.

A clipboard materialized in his hand, with sheets of lined paper pinned beneath the metal mechanism. His fingers trailed over a small collection of ballpoint pens he'd purchased from a vendor in Urbus. They were an unnecessary and archaic tool in a digital world, but the constant jumble of screens in his face occasionally drove him mad, and writing with something familiar grounded him. He missed home.

Black ink looked professional, he thought. It was an easy choice. He slipped it into his breast pocket and, on the way out, kissed his wife on the cheek.

He arrived fashionably late, ready to put on his best salesman mask and act his heart out. Acanthus was supposed to be their... product? Service? He eyed her up and down with a strange half-frown. "Fuck are you wearing?"