February 12, 2009
Last night I was sitting quietly in my basement, enjoying a peaceful evening with my two adorable children when I heard footsteps rushing up the stairs and a knock at the front door. Two people whom I had never seen before practically broke down my door and with all the determination of a great white shark consuming a newly-discovered, bloody corpse, they tried to sell me one of the most amazing inventions ever known to the human race - a Kirby vacuum.
Ninety minutes later, they had me convinced. Sure, the Kirby gets so much suction on the carpet that it literally lifts the carpet up with it's undeniable power. Sure, you can use it to paint your house, blow your leaves, detail your car, shampoo your carpets, and make an actual golf ball spin rapidly three inches away from the vacuum hose. Sure, they in some way inexplicable to me in this recession-stricken period in our history were able to knock the outrageous preliminary $2395 asking price down to the factory-price - $795.
All I could think about was how I had just lost 90 minutes of my life, that they obviously had no conception or appreciation for how valuable that time lost was to me, and that I had to finish my six-page Spanish paper, as well as a 20-minute class presentation. I don't know who is more to blame, the pushy people who barged into my place of security, myself for being stupid enough to let them in in the first place, or my neighbor who didn't let them in so that they ended up at my house. Well, we know the second choice isn't an option, so it's either pushy people or my neighbor.
The moral of the story is this: the people from Kirby reminded me of a resolution I made years ago with regard to overly aggressive and pushy salespeople. If I can't keep them from barging into my house, or wasting my time calling me on the phone, they at least need to know that they have lost a customer, forever.
I have made this resolution time and time again. I often re-make it whenever I walk into a shopping mall. I explained my position to this effect in the past to a representative of the Casper Star-Tribune. I had subscribed to the paper for a time, but because of financial circumstances, I canceled the subscription. When they wouldn't stop calling me, I finally said, "Listen. I like your newspaper. I am aware of its presence in the world. In the future, when I am able to do so, it is very likely I will subscribe to the paper again. But if you call me one more time, I guarantee you I will never buy another paper from your company again."
Unfortunately, I didn't say the same thing to the Kirby crew. But I'm saying it now. I'm sure it makes no difference to the salespeople from last evening if I never buy a Kirby vacuum. But resolutions such as these are necessary to combat against the space-invading creatures that will not leave innocent civilians like me alone. In the end, my life will be easier. So, was it really worth it, Kirby?