Random tales of an impish fan fic. writer
A few days ago a smart-looking young man whose name, I discovered later, was Ben, came knocking on my door and pressed a 'free' lottery ticket into my hand. The main prize in the draw was a car, and Ben muttered something about advertising their new model, so I kind of assumed he worked for Peugeot - we get the occasional invitation to test drive the latest version.
"What's the catch?" I ask.
"No catch, just a free draw," he replied and went on his way.
Monday, I had a 'phone call from a bright young thing who told me that Ben had forgotten to tell me that they also have a weekly draw for smaller prizes and guess what? I'd won a free carpet 'dry-clean'...
"Oh yes? What's the catch?" I ask.
"No catch. It's free. We just hope, if you like it, you'll tell all your friends."
Which rang a distant bell. My very first 'job' involved knocking on doors and inviting young housewives to let 'us' demonstrate our new vacuum cleaner. It was Electrolux, a well-known make, so it seemed legit. However, we were told to impress on the victim^W^housewife that we weren't selling anything. And *we* weren't. We were making 'appointments' for our demonstrator (a.k.a. salesman) to call and, well, demonstrate the new model in the hopes that they would - guess what - "tell all your friends." Have you noticed that the word 'demonstrator' begins with 'demon'? {weg}
I lasted less than three days and never made a penny. It just seemed so deceitful. Okay, it was a good product or I wouldn't even have started, but it just seemed so wrong to trick someone into entertaining a salesman whose livelihood depended on persuading that someone, who possibly couldn't really afford it, to buy something she didn't either want or need just right now.
What goes around comes around, so they say, and I found myself entertaining a 'demonstrator', a personable and persuasive young man called Andy. Okay, so there were a couple of marks on the kitchen carpet and I'd been contemplating calling in our local man, Dave Eakins, to clean that carpet anyway. So this offer seemed both timely and convenient. They would come the next day, yesterday, at 6.00 p.m. to do my prize clean. It would take about an hour. Ho hum.
So I moved everything out of the dresser, as requested, so they could move it to clean underneath, and moved an assortment of junk out too, put the kettle on and got out the best biscuits - I like to look after my workmen 8-) - and waited. And waited. Good job we weren't planning on going out. They arrived an hour late and wanted to start their pitch immediately - like I was going to miss listening to 'The Archers'?!
Before we got to the actual cleaning phase, Andy showed off every attachment and detailed the history and construction of the machine, then moved on to showing how much dust the thing picked up off apparently clean carpets. Like I cared? I am not domesticated, as I told him. Repeatedly. My interest in all things domiciliary is well on the shady side of zero. Life's too short to worry about a bit of dust which will still be there long after I've become dust. Yes, I do like to look presentable, which is why I employ a wonderful little lady from Manilla called Mel to 'do' for me. She's brilliant! If there were degrees in domestic work, she'd pass with first class honours! And she does the garden too!
Anyway, there are a large number of ways in which you can say, "No, I don't want a new vacuum cleaner and if I had a spare £1,899 (!!!) I'd be spending it on an upgrade for my computer and suchlike things that actually interest me," and I used every one of 'em and then found a few more... By now, it was gone 9.30 p.m., and we still hadn't got around to the actual point of the exercise. They did most of that while I was filling out a feed-back form in my den. When I returned, they'd about finished. And the dresser hadn't been moved. They had the grace to look a little guilty about that.
"The fluid'll seep underneath," one of them said without much confidence.
"Hey, I emptied everything out so you could move it," I squawked indignantly, "so move it!"
They did. {G} The whole 'prize' lasted three hours.
The marks on the carpet that were the sole purpose of my going through with the whole thing? Well, in the light of day, they're still there...