the birth of a salesman

i have taken to wearing a monocle. my esteemed predecessor, willy, was right about one thing and wrong about another. a measure of success might indeed be in the eye of the beholder, however, it is my disposition that this measure is simply measured by producing an appearance of the upmost respectability and sophistication. (personality is in fact of only minor importance in the grand life of a salesman.) the wonderful result of wearing a monocle (in the left eye, as it is) is a vision of the world always at odds with half of one's brain. poppystan is a place where a full vision might be rather devastating to one's constitution.
ah, but the most satisfying effect of the monocle is the red ring that remains around one's eye after it's removal (the monocle, that is) at the end of a long day in the local opium dens. i find this, along with my flattened lashes and reddish eyes to be a great draw amongst the fairer sex. and what is sales, i ask, if not the art of seduction?