As a general rule, I hate sales people. In my job, I see a lot of them… too many of them. I regard all sales people, regardless of their product or mission, as intrusive and in general, a major interruption to my daily routine. So I was nonplussed, to say the least, when I received a call from a young salesman named Jeremiah, from a local telecommunications company, who wanted “five minutes of my time to present his network solution.” As a telecommunications manager for a large convention hotel, I had heard that line about seventeen million times.

I was about to give him my standard “we don’t make decisions about our telephone service locally; I can refer you to our corporate headquarters if you wish to make a presentation,” when something in his voice caught me off guard, and I stopped thinking about my standard thanks-but-no-thanks response long enough to actually listen to him. The voice was infectious, intelligent, and had a lithe quality I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but it sounded familiar, and I wanted to hear more.

I found myself inviting young Jeremiah to actually come to the hotel and make his presentation. We agreed upon a mutually acceptable time and date, and terminated the call. I sat at my desk for several long moments replaying the short conversation, trying to imagine what he looked like, and I found myself getting excited about the impending meeting.

Several days went by, and the appointed date arrived. As the scheduled time for the appointment neared, I began to pace back and forth in my office, eagerly anticipating young Mr. Jeremiah’s arrival. He was punctual, the concierge desk notified me of his arrival and I sent my assistant out to get him. She preceded him back into my office, and with a well practiced wink, I knew I was in for a treat.

He walked into my office, and I nearly sat down I was so stunned. He was breathtaking, he was beautiful. I drank him in, from the perfection of his neatly combed and gelled hair all the way down to his perfectly polished shoes. My eyes swept over him quickly, taking in as many details as they could, until they settled on his face, and the warmest, most genuine smile I’ve ever encountered in my life. I reached out my hand to welcome him, said something stupid, and sat down, completely taken in by his innocence and charm.

As we sat (there was a woman with him, I think she had blond hair, but I don’t remember), I continued to take him in. I caught my breath as he sat comfortably in the chair, and beamed that smile towards me. He was young, I guessed him to be somewhere between 21 and 25. He had perfectly dark brown hair styled perfectly and I guessed he had recently had a haircut because the length perfectly framed his face. He had dark brown eyes, and long, thick eyelashes, which danced as he spoke. His nose, mouth and ears were perfectly proportioned to his face, he had a healthy tan, and his cheeks had what I can only describe as the permanent blush of youth. As he spoke, I watched his eyes dance back and forth between us, I marveled at the perfection of his teeth, and I drank the generous warmth of his smile.

He talked a lot with his hands, and I couldn’t help but watch them, too. Long, thin fingers, quite strong, with perfectly