Just pass me my name tag with ‘cold heartless bitch’ written on it
The solicitors have been out in droves recently. Not that kind of solicitor silly. I’m talking about people coming to my house to sell me vacuums or cleaning supplies or siding or new windows or whatever else.
And the religious people. They’re almost worse. Even when you tell them you are already a member of a church they do they politely leave your doorstep? No. Instead they ask, all in one breath, “Which church? Do you like it? Do they have services on Saturday? Do they…” And then I have to get all non-Christian on their ass and tell them to fuck off.
Ok, so I don’t really do that. But I want to.
Today a young kid came to my door. It was at least five minutes before I found out what he was selling. It really ticks me off when these door-to-door salespeople pull this “let me try to woo you for forty-five minutes before I actually tell you what I’m selling.” Do I look like a girl who has patience for wooing? NO! No I don’t. Get to the point or get the hell out of my yard.
Here’s how the conversation went:
Pimply teenage sales kid: Oh you must be the lovely lady of the house.
Me: Blink. Blink. [Cause seriously. I just jumped out of the shower. I have my wet hair up in a clip, no make-up on and I'm wearing cut-off sweatshorts with an old paint stained t-shirt and no bra. Lovely my ass.]
Pimply teenage sales kid: I have to go door-to-door and talk to as many people as I can to help my public speaking skills.
Me: Blink. Blink. [Ha. Ha. I almost laughed there.]
Pimply teenage sales kid: If I get enough points I get to go to Europe. Have you been?
Me: Yes. [Do I care that you're going to Europe? The answer to that question would be no.]
Pimply teenage sales kid: Oh good. I could use a tour guide. You husband could be my bodyguard. He’s bigger than me isn’t he.
Me: Yes. [I wish he was hear right now to kick your butt off my stoop.]
Pimply teenage sales kid: Ask me how I get points.
Me with a tinge of boredom as my ADD starts to kick in…oh look, something shiny: How? [Again, do I care? NO!]
Pimply teenage sales kid, as he hands me a brochure: You and your family just need to pick out a song from this list, perform it and I’ll take a picture.
Me: Blink. Blink. [Ha. Ha. You're so funny I forgot to laugh.]
I looked at the brochure. It was magazines.
Me: We don’t need any magazines. My kids have magazine fundraisers at their school.
Pimply teenage sales kid: Oh, it’s not just for you. If you and your family don’t need any magazines we have a couple of other programs. You can buy a magazine for a soldier. And I get 350 points for that.
Me: No thanks.
Pimply teenage sales kid: Or you could buy Highlights or Humpty Dumpty [or a couple of other kids magazines I don't remember the name of] for a children’s hospital. I get 500 points for that.
Me: No thanks.
Pimply teenage sales kid: Would you consider giving a donation? I get two points for every dollar you donate.
Me: Not today. [Umm...donate to where? Was there a part of your ass kissing speech that you missed because you never told me what my money supported other than sending you to Europe.]
So there you have it. I’m the cold heartless bitch who’s leaving the soldiers and suffering children with nothing to read. Oh well. I’ll get over it.
For the Jehovah Witnesses that come to your door, just tell them you are disassociated. They will never talk to you again.
I promise.
I hate the magazine scam. I was reading an article a few weeks ago about how awful those kids are treated and how ripped off they end up being. I have a lot of door-to-door people in my neighborhood, which I find rather odd since I thought people stopped doing that in the 50s.
I had a girl come to my door with the SAME magazine thing…exactly, to the word almost. I asked her if they had a certain magazine but she kept trying to sell me others, since they didn’t have the one I may have bought. Crazy! Do they not know that there are crazy people out there who might pull them inside and have their way with them? Or just pull out an AK 47 and go postal on their asses?