By Lorry Myers
I came home from work one warm, spring night and caught my husband with a door-to-door salesman. I walked into the kitchen and there they were along with a giant, silver vacuum sweeper. It surprised me because years ago a similar pesty salesman constantly called on us until Randy declared he was done.
This salesman was different.
His name tag said “Robert” and he never looked my way when I walked in. Robert was fixated on the features of his product, the owner’s manual open on my kitchen island. Unfortunately, we didn’t need a vacuum, the one we had was fairly new, easy to maneuver and fit right where I wanted. Randy looked my way and I shot him my best, “What is going on?” look. My husband just tilted his head toward the young salesman who was rapidly reciting details of the sweeper in a manner that said that he took his job seriously.
Randy finally interrupted Robert to introduce me. Robert awkwardly turned, looked above my head then turned back to his product, carefully picking up right where he left off. I listened as Robert methodically pointed out that this vacuum was not only a vacuum sweeper, but also, a vacuum cleaner, polisher and rug shampooer.
Robert was determined to prove it.
Finally, I gently but firmly said his name, “Robert, I’m sorry, but we don’t need a vacuum. The one we have is new and I like it. You are a pretty good salesman and I appreciate your time but I don’t think it’s fair to take any more of it.”
For the complete column, see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard.