A stout man knocks heavily on my front door. I would describe it as a "I know you so I am making that cute-sie knocking pattern like I've known your dad for years" knock. I skip to the door, to find to my dismay that this face peering back at me is NOT someone familiar. Trailing behind him is his pussy-cat-doll apprentice. "Good evening, don't worry I am not selling my religion to you". God I wish he had been. I always have that witty comeback "Well thank god you're not selling vacuums" but for some odd reason, I did not say it this time.....
He thrusts a certificate into my mom's hands, the kind you see displayed on the walls of stores stating they have won the "You have the cleanest bathrooms" award. Moving on, he pushes on with this speech sporting the experience of every shyster salesman. Some how he works his way into our house to look at the hardwood which he says he will coat in hardwood wax for "free" (This is about when my hackles went up), all the while commenting on his surroundings:
"Did you shoot those goats yourself?" - No they walked into our entry way and hung themselves on the wall.
"Where do you get all of that firewood?" - You know, we chop trees down from our yard as we need them.
"I like your tiled floors" - Me too.
My Dad introduces himself to the man "Hi, my name is Arnie"
"I have an uncle named Arnie" says the salesman.
This is when I reply "I have a really bad wedgie".
Finally the pair lay their eyes on our one, Tiny, Inconspicuous, Area rug. This ONE area rug is enough to cause them to bring out the big guns. This is what emerges from a large cardboard box: The Kirby Vacuum cleaner.
This Kirby is best described as a transformer. It even comes equipped with a full on headlight you may have seen on the front of a train engine. Its bright light would even lead me to believe, that somewhere in the depths of the owner's manual, it states "Please use caution when looking directly at the head light as it has been known to cause SEVERE retina damage, similar to staring at the sun for 10 minutes straight". This isn't even anything compared to the sound this puppy packs. I'm sure you've all been on a boeing 747 when it takes off? Now imagine yourself with your head shoved into the engine like many stray pigeons have found the ends of their lives. Hearing protection is a must with the Kirby.
The stout man leaves (Tony I believe his name was) in his child-molester-like van probably stocked with 10 Kirby's waiting to be sold to unsuspecting grandmothers (God forbid they let these thieves into the old folks home). The pussy cat doll starts her speil.
"Watch as I grind baking soda into your carpet then the Kirby will take it out" oooh awe, too bad I don't go around grinding baking soda into my ONE area rug on a daily basis.
"The thing that is so great about the Kirby is that it picks up microns way better than the Dyson"
I guess I should have asked if it also picked up centimeters?
She proceded to say something along the lines of "You'd be better off to roll a raw piece of chicken in dirt and eat it than lick your bed filled with dust mites" Please humour me and eat a muddy raw chicken breast and I will lick my entire bed clean without using a Kirby on it. Betcha you'll be puking first pussy cat doll. Betcha the $2999 you offered us as a deal on the Kirby, that I won't get sick.
Please, if anyone reading this ever gets offered a job as a vacuum sales person, decline. The whole facade of a salesperson just screams douchey. Like that old country song says "Momma's don't let your babies grow up to be vacuum sales people"
In the end my mom spent three hours of her precious life that she will never get back, in return for a carpet shampoo with the Kirby, which has now left our house smelling atrociously like lavender.
Lock your doors and windows people. Next time you think people preaching about god is bad, remember what these "suckers" have up their "hose" ha ha ha.