Last week I found myself staring at a scratch off card I got in the mail. I should have been smarter than this, but I called the number on the card anyway. A pleasant sounding woman answered the phone and sounded very excited that I had won something. She made an appointment for her sales guy to come to my house the next day. He had.... an opening...the next day.
The first clue was she said that her guy would have a machine to read the card. There was no bar code on the card. I should have picked up on this. He arrived at my home a few minutes late. He was dressed like ... I don't know, a Norman Rockwell painting? A plaid shirt, leather shoes and the shirt was tucked in. He laughed like a cartoon nerd. He immediately brought out a machine that measured how dusty my house is. *cue crazy dog lady comments* I'm in the danger zone, guys. This is no surprise to me as my TV takes a week to get a layer of dust on it. A week. I don't dust every week. You could come to my house any day of the week and write on my TV. Except today. I rearranged furniture yesterday with the help of my lovely niece and that always makes me clean. Apparently the dust in the air is the cause of my allergies, any arthritis in my body, and several types of cancer. He then implores me that I don't really want all this stuff in my house, right? Of course! Who does?
I'm a single woman with a full time job, three dogs, and a garden. A not insignificant garden either. I am not the kind of person who worries about dirt. I don't even mind when kids eat dirt, I figure it builds up their immune system. Stupid me, I let him bring in the thing he called "The Pig". The Pig is vacuum cleaner that we're not supposed to call a vacuum cleaner because vacuum cleaners don't work. He went to great lengths to show me how much they can't possibly work. He stole two hours of my life trying to convince me of this. He even pulled at least an 8th of a cup of dirt out of my recliner. (Thanks, dogs, for sitting in my chair.) He did his very best to show me EXACTLY how dirty my house is.
Oh, the scratch card? Did I mention the scratch card? He gave me a vacation voucher. More about that later. I keep telling him not so subtly that I don't have any money. I keep hinting that I have a small budget even when I have money. He asks to use the bathroom. I tell him no, unbelievably, because I am hungry and I want him to leave sooner. He just keeps talking. He finally reveals the price of the vacuum: $4,000. Just for the vacuum!! This doesn't include the air filter, or the mini pig, whatever the hell that was. I can get a $1,000 off for ordering today! Holy cow---I paid $2800 for MY CAR. Then he wants me to finance it. $162 a month for a VACUUM CLEANER. No no no no. Then he asks me what my credit score is. Really? Seriously? I've just told you I can't afford it. I wasn't kidding. I finally get him convinced I'm not going to buy it and he leaves.
I get to reading the vacation voucher.. he had to fill it out for it to be valid. He didn't fill it out. 2 1/2 hours of my life I'll never get back, a demonstration of just how INCREDIBLY FILTHY my house really is, payment plans, shock at how little I am willing to pay for things I consider excess and he doesn't even give me the promised reward.
I didn't keep the scratch card, so I don't have his number. I can't even call to complain. I email the company. They absolve themselves by saying that he doesn't work for them he's an independent contractor!! Ridiculous.
Here's the real question: If vacuum sweepers don't work at all, where the hell does all that dirt in the bag/cup come from?
I think they think we're stupid. Yes, it is a really cool tool. Yes, it's impossible to break. I'm sure it is a really nice vacuum cleaner. It is, however, not the only thing in the world that will ever maintain my carpets.
I'm not going to die from dust. I'm harder to kill than that. Though, I suppose I am stupid. I let him in my house and listened to his crap for 2 1/2 hours.