That Time of Year

It's that time of year again, when the weather warms and the pests come out and try to get in your house... and then they try to sell you stuff. Yes, the door-to-door salespersons have started their annual migrations through town with the dual purpose of annoying as many people as they can throughout the day, and making up fantastic lies. I have to admit that I get annoyed as soon as I open the door and see someone I don't know, getting ready to give me a pitch. But then I remind myself that I don't get many chances for entertainment throughout my day, and salesmen are one of my favorite things to torment.

We've had 3 this last week. One was from an investment company, one from a door-to-door meat company. (yuck. Why would anyone buy door-to-door meat?) And the last one was a children's book company. I dispatched the first two quickly with my favorite look that is something of a mix between 'Who are you?', and 'is that dog poo on my shoe?!' They didn't press too hard after that.

The third one didn't give up so readily, and was a liar. My favorite kind. I really love catching them in their lies, but only after I make them really uncomfortable, or make them say something stupid. This one was speaking with an ambiguous accent, and he informed me that he was from Europe. He told me that he was here on an internship, as a resume builder, talking to as many mothers as he could. Riiiiightttt. There's no glaring holes in that one. He also had no grammatical errors, despite the heavy accent.

So I asked him where in Europe, and he told me Estonia and asked me if I knew where it was. Estonia? He had obviously gone to the map and found the smallest and most unknown country he could find. I gave him an enthusiastic smile, and told him that yes I did. His eyes opened wider and he began to look uncomfortable. I was about to tell him that my husband spent a couple of years in Finland, and he had a friend that knew Finnish as well as Estonian (this is all true), and had said that the languages were very similar. I was going to also ask him to explain the similarities in the languages, but my fun was cut short by a misbehaving small child of mine. So I just offered him a drink of water, and told him that he was welcome to show me his products, but before he took everything out, I had to tell him that I wouldn't be buying anything. He packed his things away, and then had the audacity to ask me for bottled water. Unluckily for him we just had tap water. I should have given it to him in a sippy cup.

Sometimes children are a hindrance to my concentration, but sometimes they work to my advantage. When I was pregnant with Jacob, David signed us up to listen to a TrendWest sales pitch. The lure is that they give you a free gift, in this case it was a $100 gift certificate to Sears, where he had already picked out which tool he wanted to get. The catch is that if you're married, your spouse has to attend with you. We didn't have any extra spending money at the time because we were going through school, and I knew that it would make David's day to get that tool, so I agreed to go. Now keep in mind that not only was I pregnant, I was 2 days past my due date, and not feeling too good.

So we sat through their nonsense and super exciting music, and got down to business with our own personal salesman. They always try to establish some kind of personal relationship with you in the beginning so you'll trust them. This one was asking all about us, and told us that he was in the military in Iraq as a pediatrician before his current job as a salesman. Then he told us that he was doing complicated abdominal surgeries on Iraqi children in the alley. He then said that he couldn't practice medicine as a civilian...only as a military person. Uh-HUH.

By this time I was having some random contractions and feeling really awful, so I just sat there and let David do all the talking as they discussed the finer points of his sales pitch. Noticing that I wasn't enthusiastic and participating, he started to ask me questions about where I might like to vacation. I just looked at him and said that I didn't feel very good so he probably just shouldn't ask me questions, and to just talk to my husband. David was a little bit concerned and asked me if I was doing all right. I told him that I was having some contractions, and then gave the salesman a look that said, 'You understand...you're a doctor.'

Not wanting to be caught lying about being a doctor, he made some comment about how we really ought to get out of there, and tried to look like he knew what he was talking about. He rushed us through the pitch really fast, and we were out of there before anyone else. When we got to our car David asked me if that was real or if I just wanted to get out of there. I told him that I really was feeling awful, but I didn't see any harm in playing it up a little for our "pediatrician's" benefit.

I consider that my crowning achievement so far in the sport of tormenting salesmen. I don't know if I'll ever match it, but I can always have fun trying.