1. The door-to-door salesman named Creepy McCreeperson. He and his cohorts have been touring our neighborhood this week, and they are the unfortunate, spinny-eyed breed of salesmen who have one spiel and only one spiel, and just. Keep. Repeating. It. Over and over, unblinking, regardless of what you say. The first time he came to the door, I answered it while on the phone, with two barking dogs and a screaming toddler underfoot, and told him Not a Good Time, Come Back Later, meaning Not at All, Never, Don't Even Think About It. But he didn't take the hint. He just kept on talking, even after I walked away from the door. So the next time he rang the doorbell, I sat on the couch, hidden from view, and just watched Bender snarl at him all aggressively, her hackles raised, until he went away. Is that bad?
He went to my neighbor's house twice as well, and she being smarter than I didn't answer the door, but the second time it was like he knew she was in there and pounded on the door for 20 minutes. Pounded. Creepy. I heard from another neighbor that he was selling children's books, but whatEVer. No thank you, go away.
2. Fancy-Smancy Health Information from BCBSNC. Such as: A heavy-duty binder filled with facts and information re: stress management, losing weight, etc. A little book about counting calories. And most recently, a stress management/yoga CD and a BCBSNC pedometer housed in a metal case. I mean, really? I just feel like some of the resources that went toward producing this extra landfill could have been fueled into projects such as, I don't know, not fucking up so many of our insurance claims that we have to call them on a regular basis to fix them? Because if we didn't, we would end up paying hundreds of dollars more than we're supposed to? Just a thought. But I don't think there's a health insurance company out there that actually does the job right, so what are you going to do.
3. Dying, dead, and deader than dead plants. Which, totally my fault. But sight of the crispy little structures are starting to depress me. To the trash can we must go, or I wonder if some of that soil's reusable, so I could plant some more things and kill them, too? That might be fun.
3 comments:
I totally would have hidden from the salesman. Then again, my roommate does all the door answering for trick-or-treaters on Halloween.
And health insurance, ugh. We technically get laid off at the end of the season, so I applied for individual insurance, rather than paying outrageous COBRA prices for two months. Only four more years until I don't have to write every detail of the surgery I had six.
I bet that there are ordinances about door to door salesmen being so rude as pounding on a door like that. I makes you feel like a captive in your own house. I also can't imagine that door to door salesmen make any money at all and always suspect that they are casing the neighbor hood. I think I would want to tell them to leave a business card and then call their company and tell them how you will never ever buy their product and then maybe even call the police. Yup. don't like the d to d sales people.
I still hate BCBSNC. Like...it's kind of a personal vendetta.
Post a Comment