Quantcast

I Need a Peephole in My Door

Filed Under: Life
Share:
Green door

Image | brentdanley

Just had a door-to-door salesman dude show up–second one since we moved here in November. He was selling magazines trying to “earn points so he can be promoted and be a mentor.” He “came from the ghetto and just wants a promotion.” The whole thing is a scam and it’s been proven as such many, many times. AI wanted to tell him to go join the military and quit being a scammer but I was too worried about him getting closer and closer to my freaking door.

I told him I didn’t have a checkbook here–which I don’t–and that I don’t have any cash–which I don’t. He kept snaking his neck around and trying to look into the house. He asked if there was a better time for him to come back. I told him Tucker gets home at 1730 so he might try then.

OF COURSE it was AFTER the dude finally gtfo that I realized I had just told him I’m alone with two kids and a dog. I’m a fucking idiot.

And why was it that Sophie decided to be a good, quiet dog the whole time? A quick glimpse of an intimidating looking pit bull would have been helpful…just as long as he couldn’t see her tail wagging.

SO not answering the door again.