The room we entered was set up like a miniature theater. A stage sat at one end of the room with a large movie screen at the back. Five rows of very comfortable-looking, padded reclining chairs waited for us. More seats than we needed.

Once again the lights dimmed. This time, however, instead of a slideshow presentation, we were treated to a short film.

The same female voice from the safety briefing narrated the film. "Zago Chocolates. A pioneer in chocolate production and manufacturing for more than 40 years."

Across the screen we saw a quick blur of images: Mr. Zago cutting a ribbon on his factory when his wild hair was darker, oodles of chocolate bars being sent down a conveyor into a shipping box, a Zago Chocolates display from at least twelve years ago (before the logo had been redesigned in 2005) filled with the best-selling Crispy Bar.

"Now Mr. Zago and his team of scientists have charted a new course for the chocolate industry."

On screen the image changed again. This time, the camera took us through a door labeled Cleared Personnel Only. Inside the room, half a dozen people in lab coats and goggles tinkered with beakers and microscopes, tubes and measuring devices.

"After five years of testing and development Zago Chocolates is proud to introduce the first energy chocolate bar--Zig-Zag Magnum Bar."

My ears perked up at the description. The energy drink and energy bar market was huge, but not a place for chocolate bars. People who purchased energy products were typically those who eschewed the calorie- and sugar-laden chocolate aisle. A growing market from which we had been shut out. My salesmen brain latched onto the new idea like a poor man would a dollar.

The Magnum Bar appeared on screen in its wrapper: black with gold lettering, the same as our tickets for the tour. Compared to other energy products, the black-and-gold made it appear luxurious, high-quality.

"The Zig-Zag Magnum Bar not only provides long-lasting energy, in early testing, Zago Chocolates scientists have seen a growth in muscle development and strength beyond expectation."

The screen switched to a man in military uniform munching on a bar, while hooked up to wires and monitors. He got on a treadmill and began running. His feet moved more and more quickly, his speed ridiculously fast, all the while his heart rate monitor showed a steady 80 beats per minute. The next shot showed the same military man power lifting an impossible amount of weight--beyond that of an Olympic weightlifter. Heart rate still steady. Then, the man was climbing up a rock face with a huge rucksack on his back. A scientist at the bottom of the cliff held a stop watch in his hand. Although it wasn't clear if the man climbed any faster than a pro-climber, I took it from the scientist's face when he turned the stop watch to the camera that the climb was beyond expectation for military personnel with a full pack.

"Zago Chocolates has seen such incredible early results with our Zig-Zag Magnum Bar that we are moving forward into certain markets before full FDA testing has been completed. The Department of Defense was so impressed with our independent study results, Zago Chocolates was able to bypass regular FDA testing in order to supply all U.S. military men and women with Zig-Zag Magnum Bars in their rations and as part of their chow hall dining experience."

The screen showed men and women in camouflage holding trays and waiting in line at a military dining hall. As each person passed through the line, a stack of Zig-Zag Magnum Energy Bars waited at the end. At the end of the line every tray held a bar.

"Now we are asking our best sales people to push the envelope. We have recently begun the process of providing Zig-Zag Magnum Bars to a few, select military bases across the country. But we need a master salesmen to take our incredible product even further."

A black ticket, like the one I received inviting me to the factory, appeared on screen.

"If you are selected as Salesman of the Year, you will be given the entire Zig-Zag Magnum Bar sales channel and the title of Director of Government Sales."

An American flag waved across the screen with a Zig-Zag Magnum Bar splashed over it.

"Your competition will be through the red doors on the other side of the theater. You will receive samples of the Zig-Zag Magnum Bar and will have one hour to produce a sales presentation for Mr. Zago himself. If your sales presentation is up to snuff, you will win Salesman of the Year and will skyrocket into Zago Chocolates history as we move into a new phase of growth and opportunity."

A CGI rocket appeared on screen with ZAGO CHOCOLATES scribbled across the side. Its engine burst into flames, and the rocket shot into the sky and up into outer space, exploding into a shower of sparks that spelled out "Zig-Zag Magnum Bar."

"Thank you and welcome to the future of Zago Chocolates."

The lights came up. The red doors on the opposite side of the theater opened up. All five of us rushed through the doors to get through. An hour to put together the best sales presentation of our lives? No time to waste.

Jacqueline had the strength of a Yeti. She clawed at my jumpsuit and hauled me backward to beat me through the door. Devon used his formidable weight to shove me into one of the empty theater seats, and my old buddy, Harold, stepped hard on my foot.

My four competitors passed through the doors and left me limping and winded a few steps behind them.

I entered the sample room, in a bit of shock over the ruthlessness of my fellow salespeople, but, in the end, not that surprised. To have the entire U.S. military as your customer was an incredible opportunity. I knew Harold, Devon, Jacqueline and Agnes all had dollar signs in their heads. The commission for such a customer would be astronomical. Possibly billions in sales. No more discussions with grocery chain managers over lunch at Applebee's. No more mindless presentations before school boards to explain why Zago Chocolates wouldn't harm the health of their students. No more criss-crossing Nebraska in the dead of winter in a cigarette-smelling rental car to reach that month's sales goals.

Government sales was a whole new ball game. We were talking wining-and-dining senators, congressman, admirals and generals. Maybe even the president himself. The glamour of the Pentagon and special access passes and helicopter rides over Okinawa or Hawaii or Bahrain lingered in my brain.

I grabbed the last seat. Everyone else had already unwrapped a Zig-Zag Magnum Bar from the stack in front of each of them and was in mid-chew. Harold had completely consumed one bar and was opening another. Devon wasn't far behind.

No one had even taken the time to read the ingredients sheet, the description of the product, nor the warnings or recommendations. I decided to take a different tack. Instead of trying the sample bar, I'd read the literature, study the wrapper, think about my sales pitch. Consuming the bar wasn't necessary in order to understand how to sell it. I'd learned that in my first year as a Zago Chocolates salesperson. That year, I'd captured my first sales award, so I must have done something right.

I tuned out the chomping and crinkling noises going on around me and read through the product information. The first thing I saw was: WARNING! Do not consume more than one bar in a 24-hour period.

I looked up. All four of my fellow competitors had eaten multiple bars in a matter of minutes.

Hm.