Birth Of A Salesman

yellow-front-door1 So it’s been quite a while since I last wrote a blog. Quite a while since I did anything other than work in fact. I’ve been unreachable by friend and foe alike. Not that I have many, or indeed any, foes but I’m sure were I to have any they wouldn’t have been able to reach me.

What does my work entail? Well, it’s door to door sales. Before you all look down your noses at me for being a con artist who robs old grannies of their life savings (I daily meet people who believe that this is my one true goal in life), I must inform you that all I do in my job is give people money. Well, ok so that’s not quite true any more as I’ve been moved onto the charities division of my company, which means that I’ll be asking for your money to help some poor deaf panda with only one leg or something from now on. But up until Friday, I worked in energy sales.

You probably don’t really care what the ins and outs of my job are (and if you do, why?) so I’ll just move onto the more interesting stuff. This blog is going to be a rant. A good old fashioned rant about how idiotic the British public is when it comes to their front doors.

Now in my job we are schooled to keep a positive attitude all day long and I’ve now become quite the optimist. A sarcastic optimist, but an optimist nonetheless. But seeing as I’m not in work – it’s the weekend – I think I can indulge my cynical and negative side just for a little. Here is a list of all the things which really get on my nerves and make me want to punch down the front door of whoever has committed said injustice to humanity.

People Who Don’t Have House Numbers
I get a list of doors to knock on every day. Some people I can call at, some people I can’t. So I’m given a list of which houses in any given road are open for exploitation selling. Simple? No. 1, 3, 5, 7, blank, blank, blank, blankety blank and erm I have to call on number 19 but I really don’t have the faintest clue where that is. WHY DO YOU NOT HAVE FREAKING NUMBERS? How do you expect the postman to deliver stuff to you if you don’t label your house? Mr Iman Idiot at 122 Moron Drive could not pay his bills because the postman had better things to do than count up in twos from 86 to find his house. This, in my mind, is a legit scenario.
Yes, we could spend our day counting each house but it’s just not worth the hassle. Especially when some roads miss out numbers like 13 and also have extra numbers like 17a, 17b, 17c, 17d, and 17e. That’s right. I’ve called at a number 17e. I almost punched the little asian woman who answered just because she was living in a stupidly numbered house.
I didn’t though. I sold her cheaper gas and electricity.

People Who Don’t Have Doorbells
You can get a doorbell for about £15 to £20. Your house cost more than this I presume (not always a safe presumption from some of the houses I’ve seen), ergo: you can afford a doorbell. Buy one you mong. My knuckles hurt.
I’ve knocked at houses which would make the queen gawp but which still didn’t have doorbells. The mind boggles.

People Who Say Things Like "I don’t buy or sell over the door"
Do you have a window cleaner? A milkman? Where do you pay them? Up in your boudoir? Listen darling, you’re paying over £120 per month for gas and electric for your two bedroom flat. You’re being robbed blind. Just let me in and we can get past this "over the door" business.

People Who Are Idiots
I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve asked somebody point blank the question "So if you could keep everything exactly the same as it is now, have no hassle, pay in the same way, on the same day but pay less, would you be happy?" and have them reply, with straight faces I might add, "No." You my dear customer-to-be-no-more, are a complete and utter cretin. You don’t deserve the food dripping off your unkempt face. Go back to watching Jeremy Kyle and I’ll just go and find some people who actually have brain cells to rub together and save them some money instead.
I actually worked out that I was going to save one woman over £80 per month on her energy bills and showed this to her. She was ecstatic and enthusiastic. And then told me she wouldn’t bother. Hand me a shovel and I will rid this world of one more fool.

People Who Don’t Have Doorbells Or Door knockers And Have Letterboxes Made By Pansies
Ok so a lack of a doorbell is mostly negated by the presence of a door knocker. But there are far too many houses without either. Now I’m usually still fine with this as everybody has a letterbox* which can be flicked a few times to provide the necessary signal of "there’s somebody at your front door". Problem solved? Not so fast! Some people think it only proper that their letterboxes are made by utter weaklings who will either fail to put a spring in them or have a spring so weak it may as well just give up on its existence. I don’t want to flick a letterbox just to have it go "fleh fleh fleh". That is not the loud and resounding sound I need to coax out the resident nitwit from his hidey hole.
Oh it’s fine, I’ll just batter your door down with my fists. That should get your attention.

People Who Have Doorbells Which May Or May Not Work
Some people have realised the sense, nay the necessity, of a doorbell and they duly went out and bought one. Well done. Does it work? I really haven’t a clue. I’m not just talking about whether or not I can hear the doorbell sounding from outside the house, that isn’t strictly necessary (but it is nice) I’m talking about the doorbells which have unpressable buttons. There’s a lovely circle of some colour or other which is virtually screaming "PRESS ME!" and so I do. But the button doesn’t go in. It doesn’t budge. And I can’t hear whether or not it sounded inside the house. I don’t want to look like an over-zealous sales freak and keep pressing it until the householder appears at the door because they’ll probably be rather irked if in fact the doorbell does work and I’ve just filled their house with "DINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONG". Not quite the first impression I aim for. But then again, I actually want this person to come to the door. How can I make sure this happens? Doorknocker? They don’t have one. Letterbox? It’s a fleh fleh fleh box. Knock on the door? I could do but I’ve already bruised two and sprained another knuckle trying to get these twits to the door so I think I’ll just leave it. Ok so I will knock then. But what if the bell worked? Using both the bell and then pounding on the door also seems a little over enthusiastic…

So there we have it. I advise you to step outside your door and check that you have the following four things: your house number, a doorbell which obviously works, a doorknocker and a letterbox with umph. If I visit your abode and happen to notice that any of these things is missing, I will judge you immediately. Oh what’s that? Your parents own the house? Well IQ is hereditary in my book so that argument does you no favours with me.

*Yes, everybody has a letterbox but why do some people have them at foot level? To save the letters the effort of having gravity pull them to the floor? What about the poor postman who has to crouch down every day to deliver your mail? Morons.


One thought on “Birth Of A Salesman

  1. you’re totally right about letterboxes at the bottom of the door. I had to do some flyering for a pub I worked for once and I almost broke my bloody back bending over to shove a solitary A5 piece of paper through their door. Idiots

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