Balloons

I have an innate hatred for balloons. To me, balloons represent all that is bad about the car business. They are symbols of car salesman slavery; a daily reminder that the sales managers think of you as nothing but lot boys in nice clothes. Balloons should be banished from the face of the earth--unless you are at the Circus.

Well, maybe I’m exaggerating a little.

The preoccupation with balloons began when I worked at a dealership that demanded that we put out one hundred balloons each day. These particular balloons came packed in something that looked like talcum powder. You couldn’t help but get it all over you. It used to really piss me off.

Each morning, after unlocking the three hundred plus inventory, the drudgery of the balloons began. You ended up with powder on your clothes, fingers aching from tying up the balloons, and a pissy attitude. A couple of hours had passed and valuable screwing around time had been lost forever.

Goddamn balloons!

Out of boredom we would sometimes get three or four balloons together and launch a coke can. I was always vaguely concerned that the can might hit someone when it came down, but I was comforted with the idea that it would probably fall on one of The Others, so who the hell cared?

We once calculated how many balloons it would take to launch a Nissan Sentra. I can’t remember what the exact amount was, but if supplied with enough balloons and the proper amount of motivational drugs, the job was definitely doable. But being lazy salesmen, we figured that ultimately it would just be too much work.

There was always the helium to screw around with. One big gulp and you could swear at your fellows in a most amusing voice. If you did enough of it, you actually started to feel a little high. I’ve often wondered if any car men were killed by helium overdose. How exactly do you explain that when you get to Heaven?

Are car men welcome in Heaven?

The only cool thing about balloons was launching them at the end of the day. Sending them to balloon heaven so to speak. Watching them float their way to freedom was a little sad, because you were still there; grounded to the patch of asphalt that was virtually your home. As I would gaze up at the disappearing spheres, I would wonder if there were car men angels up there, sitting on clouds watching them ascend. I imagined that if I listened closely I could hear them. And you know what they were saying?

“Goddamn balloons!”


Talk to you later,



David