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Sales dicks
Mrs. Clavus an I have been shopping for a few high-ticket items lately, and I am utterly amazed at the way salesmen (yes, they have all been men) treat my wife. What the fuck is up with this?
Attention salespeople of the world:
If you wish to sell your wares to my household, I strongly suggest you take note of the following guidelines:
Do not insist on speaking with “the man of the house.” My wife is fully capable of making decisions, even decisions involving (gasp!) money. If you don’t want to deal with my wife, I don’t want to deal with you.
If you are invited into our home to make your pitch, do not treat my wife like your personal servant. Rattling the ice in your glass in her direction to indicate that you would like more water will not endear you to anybody making a purchasing decision.
Do not treat my wife like she is stupid. She is, in fact, smarter than you are. If you don’t believe me, let me ask you something – Who has figured out how to enjoy her house in the afternoon, free from the burdens of employment; and who is sweating it out in a suit? How many college degrees do you have…three? Are you fluent in a couple of languages? No? Then YOU are the stupid one, stupid.
Do not belittle women during your pitch. Your effort to sell the Dodge over the Ford failed miserably when puked out this line – “No offense, but Ford is a girl’s truck.” Hey dipshit, the truck is FOR the girl.
If my wife starts busting your balls, do not attempt impromptu male-bonding with me. You won’t go around her by giving me a knowing smirk, rolling your eyes and saying “women!” Who’s side do you think I’m going to take – the beautiful woman who may give me red-hot monkey-woowoo, or the polyester-clad salesguy?
Don’t pitch me. Pitch HER. Sure, I write the checks, but I write them for things SHE wants. Either treat her with respect, or shut your noise-tube, shit-weasel.
__________________
Ass, gas or grass. Nobody rides for free.
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