I honestly feel bad for door to door salesmen, but I generally hate them. Friday I got home, had to do a couple things around the house before my show and really didn’t need any interruptions. Along comes bug treatment guy. He was pretty young and in all honesty, it was raining and he was on a segway, so I really didn’t know whether to sympathize or hate him.
He began a spiel with some really corny lines about my house and all the multitudes of bugs, like I lived in the Temple of Doom from Indiana Jones. He was on fire with the hand gestures and anecdotes, but all I could see was the huge white pimple on his neck. I really didn’t hear too much, plus my dog was trying to get out from behind me. I finally interjected, “Sounds great and all, but I have two kids and this mutt here, so I need something safe.” That will stump him so I can move along without having to straight slam the door in his grill. “Oh it’s really safe. The granules are so small, they only stick to bug hairs, not human hairs. I’ve even eaten the powder myself and drank the spray.” “Oh you did, did you? Sounds tasty.”
At that point, he stared into my unimpressed face. He knew he had went a bit too far. It’s one thing to tell me you lab tested chems on kids or have some eco-rating approved by the Fart Institute or whatever, but don’t expect me to believe you were sprinkling pesticide on your popcorn or hamburgers because you’re dedicated to your craft of going door to door. I was going to ask him what it tasted like, but I saw he was winding up, knowing it was over. In fairness, if it keeps mosquitoes off me, I may start doing shots of DDT with this guy, but alas, I never got to ask as he rode off into the sunset, full of bug spray goodness.