Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Wednesday's Words For June 20, 2012

My mother raised me to be polite at all times. There were certain mores of behaviour that she instilled in me, and I guess they stuck pretty well, because I still cling to them today, sometimes even in the face of unbelievable circumstance.

For example, when mom and I would go to my aunt and uncle’s for dinner, I wasn’t expected to just help with the after dinner clean up. I was expected to do it all—by myself.

Likewise, growing up, if I was a guest in anyone’s home for dinner, and they served something I really didn’t like, too bad for me. I was expected to eat it and say, “yum yum, thank you.”

Maybe you could class that as a white lie, but I don’t think there’s any real sin involved in that one.

We lived out in a rural community all through my youth, the same one my beloved and I moved to after our first year of marriage. You didn’t often get any “traveling salesmen”. Oh, they came by once in a while, but not often.

Even as I kid I got a kick out of the Fuller Brush man. He always had some little do-dad he would leave behind, even if you said “no, thank you”.

As a matter of fact, I recall when it was acceptable to say “no thank you” to the peddler at the door, and their response would inevitably be, “thank you for your time, have a nice day”.

Not, apparently, anymore.

Lately there has been a new breed of “traveling salesman” prowling our neighborhood. These are young, brash, hard-sell engineers who not only don’t take “no” for an answer, they’re rude.

And not only are they rude, they are pushy and try to intimate you. One man I particularly recall from a couple of years ago came to the door, wanting me to sign up with an “energy re-distributer”. Do you get them in your area?

Now, if the electricity rates had doubled when we got our “smart meters” - that is to say, if we were the kind of people to ignore the “peak periods” and use our a/c, our washer and our dryer at those times—then maybe, and I mean maybe, one of those contracts might have saved us a few dollars.

But I am leery, on principal, of anyone who wants you to sign on the dotted line right away. As if they know that if you have a moment to think things over, you’ll see reason and say: no, thank you.

So I told this gentleman, “no, thank you”, oh, probably about four or five times at least. Despite the fact that my anger was increasing I didn’t slam the door in his face or tell him to take, um, a flying leap. I was still trying, you see, to be polite.

However, this particular gentleman pulled out what he must have thought was his “big gun argument”. Now please keep in mind, I am dressed very casually around the house most days, when I am writing. My hair is caught up, haphazardly in a clip; I’m decently covered, but I am wearing jammies—long ones in the winter, short ones in the summer, but jammies for me are my “business apparel” of choice.

This would-be salesman of the year looked me up and down, and said, “Perhaps you’re just too stupid to understand what I’m saying to you.”

Now friends, there does come a moment, and I am certain my mother, rest her soul, would agree, when it is time to abandon that which clearly does not work.

So I said, “Actually, I probably would score well above you on any IQ test you’d care to name. Moreover, I’m a published author, and, congratulations, you’ve earned a spot in my next novel as the obnoxious itinerate asshole.”

Well, perhaps my mother wouldn’t quite approve of my language, but I did feel ever so much better when I then shut the door in his face.

Love,
Morgan
http://www.morganashbury.com
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury

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