Yesterday, I posted the following as my facebook status: Sometimes my husband allows traveling salesmen into our house.
On a RELATED note, sometimes I don't like my husband...
Little did I know, that this status was going to create quite a bit of conversation! It's events like these that remind me why I titled my blog, "Moments Defined." The traveling salesman was in our home for a total of five minutes, but hours later, there was quite a conversation about his short visit.
Chance and I (and Allen) have different accounts of what happened yesterday. Here they are in no particular order.
Actually, according to me, here they are in the order of truth to fiction! ;)
Here's how it all went down:
C answers door.
Steak & Chicken guy: "Are you interested in some steaks? I only have two more cases to sell before I can go home to my wife and kids".
C: "Come on in; my wife makes the food decisions around here." [This is when I considered making C sleep on the couch.]
S&CG: "Let me bring in my massive box of steaks and set up camp in your dining room."
G: "Sir, we eat mostly deer here. It's free."
C: "I like steak though." [This is when I collected all of C's belongings, including our high-maintenance dog, and moved him out onto the front porch.]
G: "I'm very sorry sir, but we are not the least bit interested."
S&CG: "Fine." [Leaves in a huff, not even shutting the front door behind him, thus, sadly, allowing our high maintenance dog back into the house... He, in turn, let my crazy husband back in...]
(again, remember these are in the order of truth to fiction...)
So, I see this guy walk up to the house and I step outside to greet him. He explains that he's selling meat. I do not want to deal with such a request, so I inform him with the following information, "Sir, my wife handles all of the food decisions around here. Let me get her." It was at this point that I did chuckle inside, as I knew G would not be a happy camper.
Then, this guy comes in the house and sets up shop on my kitchen table... I mean like a full retail store. (By the way, his entrance was very clever - - He was carrying a huge box and he asked, "This is really heavy. Can I come in and put this down for a minute?" Thus, if you say "No," you're a big jerk.)
He did his spiel, and G shot him down. Not once, not twice, but three times. She drives a hard bargain, I guess. As he was packing up his cows and chickens, I tried to make small talk. Bad idea. He didn't really wanna talk seeing that we were not buying his stuff.
Finally, as he left, we thanked him for stopping by. He opened up the front door, walked out, and left the door open (I think as a judgment against us). Jerk. If I had planned on buying from him in the future, he just eliminated that possibility when he acted so childish. On a funny note, it reminded me of Jesus' words when He told His disciples to "shake the dust off your feet as a testimony against them." If anything bad happens at my house in the next week, I'll be so ticked.
(once again, remember these are in the order of truth to fiction, considering Allen can no longer stomach human food because of his allergies...)
I'm furious that they didn't buy 50 pounds of meat!