The Salesman

Weekends are for catching up on paperwork, staying in my pajamas all day and decompressing from the stress of secondary trauma exposure and an intensely heavy workload, in general.  It is not, I must admit, for peopling.  I avoid peopling on the weekends as much as possible.

I mean, people are great and all.  (Collectively, I hate them.  But, individually, I sure do love them.)  Still, one lady can only take so much peopling before she needs a break.  I personally believe I people more than most throughout the week, so that excuses me risking the potential of picking up an anti-social reputation on the weekends, don't you think?  Anyway, just in case you happen to be a close friend and you find me avoiding contact on the weekend, let's be clear.  It's not you.  It's me.

So, this prefaces my reactive offense at the sound of the doorbell on a weekend day.  UGH!  NO!  Not today.  I cannot people today.  Who the (bad word) has come to interrupt my hard-earned solace?!! 

But...OH, MY GOODNESS, you guys.  I am sooooo glad I answered that door.

As soon as I opened it, this young man smiled his great big grill at me and started right in with his spiel.  Of course he had to begin with his overwhelming shock at my beauty and the loveliness of my appearance, and since I was wearing my finest sweats and hadn't showered or brushed my hair in all of about 3 days, I knew this guy was GENUINE, for real. 

I have to admit, most times, in this situation, I would kindly send the young man on his way.  But there was something in this kid (for that's what they have ALL become to me at this point in my 40 long years) that just drew me out.  I think it was his boldness.  I do love bold. 

Or maybe it was his enthusiasm and persistence.  I mean, I sure wasn't buying into any of his corny lines or tactics.  You guys...but when he licked the straw of the cleaner he was trying to sell me to proves it's compassionate heartstrings couldn't help but respond to that level of desperation.  Besides, he was really quite entertaining.  So...I consented to his appeal to demonstrate his superior product on my recently stained drive.  (I have since instructed my teenage daughter that, when spray painting her Halloween costumes, she should use the grass...which can be cut to regrow, sans paint.)

"Well, you can show me, but I can't buy anything.  My husband is in charge of all that."  (My own tactics.  This, my friends is the power of consenting to the authority of a's biblical, after all.  When you are the kind of person who can't say can ALWAYS say, "My husband says no!"😁 )  The salesman made a sidebar remark about who is REALLY in charge in the house, to which I responded with feigned shock and confusion.  ("Why, Ike, whatever do you mean?" 😉)

I marched, happily, out to my drive, led by this enthusiastic, disingenuous, very entertaining salesman.  (Very aware that my guardian would soon find me missing and rush to my defense.  He doesn't miss much, after all.  I am very, very safe in his rather overprotective hands.  💕)  He did not disappoint.  Sooner than expected, my husband came bounding out the door to see me standing on our drive with this 25 year-old, eccentric stranger.  Having known me for over 20 years, my husband wore no shock in his expression.  (This is exactly the atypical situation in which he by now expects to find me.)

He simply asked, in a calm voice, "What's going on out here?!"

The salesman replied, "Don't worry.  I'm not tryna take yo woman!"

I smiled, most sincerely, to my beloved, "Well, you're just in time!  My friend here is just getting ready to clean up this paint mess we discovered yesterday."

At this point in the discussion, I had already decided I could not let this kid get away without some sort of reimbursement for the complete and utter joy he had already brought me on this now remarkable weekend day.  So, while I WAS impressed that his cleaner did remove a few streaks from the paint (and I'm not convinced the wire brush had nothing to do with that), and I WAS happy to know that I could use it on windows with "no streaks!" (windows are a constant drudgery around here. FINGERTIPS.  FINGER....TIPS. 🎵 ), the most thrilling part was the entertainment this eager young salesman had provided me.  That, alone, was worth payment to me.

So, when Matt began his rejection speech, I immediately chimed in, "But BAAAAAAAAABBBBE!  Look how good this is!"

It was obvious he was not convinced. Nor was he forking out any cash at this point.

"Remember how I was JUST complaining about not having the cleaner when I need it because people keep taking it, and this could be JUST MINE."  His hesitated sigh led me on to inquire about the cost.

But when the poor, oblivious salesman started in on a $350 package, even I didn't hesitate to shoot him down.  "Oh, honey, I can not afford that."

And I saw my lovely hubby's compassionate heart begin to turn, ("The poor dear"...) "How much is one bottle?"

BEST cleaner I EVER purchased!  Worth all of the $40 it cost. (I may even request a refill when it runs out!)  AND...I got it in lavender, my new FAVE!  AND...since I had cash for which he did not have change, the kind, young salesman threw in a spray bottle.  (He didn't have to do that.  I had told him he could keep the extra as a tip.)

I was so happy with my husband's generosity, I turned to him as we walked back to the house, "Thank you, baby!!"

From the drive, I heard the salesman reply, "Oh...yo welcome."  We ALL laughed when he realized his error.

That kid has no idea the joy he brought me in that one moment that one day.  He was probably just relieved to finally make a sale.  But I can not express how glad I am I answered the door to the salesman!

Life is never dull, when you are willing to open the door to the next, potentially entertaining venture.