Yesterday, the dogs did their someone’s out front bark (casual woofs), followed by their someone’s in our yard bark (the barking equivalent of a car alarm) and I got excited with them. Someone in the yard might mean the UPS driver is cautiously maneuvering his way through the mine field that is our front yard. The children all get excited when the mail comes and fight over who will retrieve it from the mailman. I know that the mailman only brings bad things. Good stuff comes in boxes from package delivery services. I was sorely disappointed that it was just a pamphlet pusher. Our neighborhood has an unusually high number of people home in the daytime and lacks a cut-through that would encourage high speed cars, so the pamphlet people love to visit us. Our pamphlet people come in all varieties. Some of them want you to buy something. Others want you to sign a clipboard. There are even some who want you to join their club. The conversations are all pretty much the same.
Pamphleteer: “Hello! My name is ___ and I’d like to give you this pamphlet about ___.”
Me: “No thank you.”
Pamphleteer: “It’s okay, once won’t hurt.”
Me: “Sorry, we’re paperless.”
Pamphleteer: “I just have to hand out seven in the next hour and my wish will come true.”
Me: “No. I don’t think so.”
Pamphleteer: “I haven’t eaten for three days and . . . ”
Me: “DOUG!”
Pamphleteer: “I’m working my way through school and . . . ”
Me: “Doug, the pamphlet person won’t go away!”
Pamphleteer: “I get paid by the pamphlet and . . . ”
Doug: “Name drop whoever we know that uses the same pamphlet.”
Me: “Our good friend ___ has already given us one of these.”
Pamphleteer: “Oh, good. Have a nice day.”
I like it better when Doug answers the door.
Hope the kids don’t run out to get the UPS I just sent you.
What? No link?
Because I work different hours and am home in the afternoon (napping most times), I get the phamplet pushers…or their crazy step-brothers, the “Hey we’re in a contest to get points” kids.
I have yet to discover what this points thing is, since nine times out of ten, I can figure out what’s happening in the first ten seconds and tell them I’m not interested. I do try to be polite, giving them a chance to walk away by saying “No thank you, I’m not interested.” Most times, they don’t take no for an answer since apparently the future of the universe depends on my giving them points….
Which if you need someone to blame for the world going to heck in a handbasket, it’s all me for not giving these poor kids their points…
And yet, for a group in competition and always saying they’re trying to beat the females, I have yet to have a female come to my door and ask for my assistance. I’m just sayin’….
you crack me up
Thank you. 🙂
What I don’t get is, when the pamphlet man gives his pamphlet to someone, that person throws it in the garbage, right? So why wouldn’t the pamphlet person cut the middle name and toss all seven in the dumpster? Wish come true, nobody’s hurt. It’s a win-win.
“cut the middle man”.
I can’t type. I do type for a living, but my development environment autocorrects my stuff for me or else I’d be already out in the street, handing out pamphlets.