An Open Letter to the Door-to-Door Salesperson Who Ruined My Day
Dear Instagram-Worthy Blonde Woman Selling Office Supplies Door-To-Door While Driving A Lexus (?):
I have questions.
But first, let’s start with the NO SOLICITORS sign that’s next to the front door.
Clearly, that sign has no meaning and I just have some kind of sign fetish that compels me to post meaningless signs on any flat surface. I particularly like a nice RESTROOM or DANGER: RADIATION sign. It really gets my juices flowing.
I scroll through Staples and Office Depot looking at signs like other people scroll through Etsy or Pornhub. “Just look at the font on that EMPLOYEES ONLY,” I whisper to myself. “Mommy like.”
Do you ignore signs everywhere you go? Do you scream “YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME!” as you tear through stop signs in your Lexus?
(The office supply biz must be doing pretty good, by the way. Just sayin’.)
Maybe you’re blind. Maybe the car was actually a Tesla and it drives itself. Seriously, who knows anymore.
But I let it go. I didn’t lead with, “There’s a ‘No Solicitors’ sign by the front door,” like I usually do. Your precise, German-engineered bob and air-brushed foundation had me flustered.
I don’t even know who you were schilling for. Probably Quill, which is much more expensive than Staples and now I know why.
It’s so their salespeople can all drive a Lexus.
When I told you we use Staples and I turned away, no longer making eye-contact, that was your signal to stop poking the bear and to back away slowly, all the way out into the parking lot and into your Lexus.
But no. You had to ask me my name.
I guess that’s to prove to your superiors (who must drive Ferraris) that you had actually been to our office.
I don’t like it when people ask me my name. Nothing good ever comes of being…