Kirby

If it sounds too good to be true - - it probably is.

Here is how my *anniversary* afternoon (and evening) went.

The door bell rang. I got a little tingly, thinking, "Could it be? Really? Flowers? No way!"

Well, it wasn't. I should have known better. Mr. B does NOT send flowers. It is out of his realm of reasonable. Now a new laptop, that's reasonable. But flowers that die? No. I digress.

It was one of those door to door people. He was handing out coupons and telling me about a new Kirby Vacuum business that was opening up. He asked for my name and phone number. He said that I'd only get a phone call if I won one of the daily prizes they were giving away. No sales calls. He was a sweet guy, in his twenties, and I fell for him. Primarily because he had a handicap. He stuttered real bad. I knew it was hard for him to get out any kind of sentence and I kind of felt sorry for him. He was trying really hard and I knew that his job sucked. So - - I threw him a life line. No sales calls anyway. Right? What could it hurt?

Fast forward to 6:35 p.m. Mr. B is home and we are trying to wrangle the Things. Life was kind of hectic. The phone rang. Guess what? I won a daily prize! (Exclamation point for my emphasis - - and theirs.) Well, cool. I won a set of steak knives. Did I want 2 or 4? Ummm - well four please. (Duh.) Also, I get to have two rooms in my house shampooed for free. Which two rooms did I want done?

*insert sounds of crickets chirping here*

This is where I should have listened to my inner voice. The one that has *never* failed me. The one that tonight I told to shut up.

I told her to hang on, I needed to ask my husband which rooms.

He knew what the gig was. He told me it was my choice if I wanted to do it. Dang him. Why didn't he just tell me to back off? I was convinced I really won something. I was special. (Yeah, me and 16 other households in the area.)

I get back on the phone and told her the living room and the dining room. "Great," she says, "will you be there at 7:30 for someone to drop the knives by?"

"Tonight?"

"Yes, and it will only take her about 35 minutes to do the carpet. And by the way, you'll love the steak knives. They *never* need sharpening. They are the *best* steak knives!"

At this point my inner voice is now yelling at me in Spanish. Probably cursing at me. I shushed her. Again. I think it pissed her off. Because I didn't hear from her again until much later in the evening.

"Okay," I said. "We'll see her then."

Now to break the news to the Mister. He took it better than I thought. He didn't' want me home alone with anyone we didn't know anyway. Whew. I guess he *does* love me.

They didn't show up until 8:00. Some man in a Hummer dropped off a 19 year old girl with a Kirby vac, in a box. Great. She said something about setting it up for the demo. I felt every ounce of color drain from my face. I couldn't even look at Mr. B. I knew he was laughing his butt off. No sales call my ass. It was every bit a sales call. It's Kirby for crying out loud.

It took her twenty minutes to assemble it.

Forty minutes to vacuum my living room. (You know, because my Dyson isn't good enough. She kept opening up the black rag and showing me all of the filth and pet dander. Over and over again.) She kept saying that she had to get it really, really clean because when she shampooed it, she didn't want to create mud on my carpet.

Somewhere in the conversation she started talking about dust mites. OMG!! Freaked me out. She said something about how they take a crap on your face during the night and stuff. What? This makes me want to buy this machine?

I'm going to make this longer story short.

At 10:00. She was finally packed up and on her way out of here. Without us buying a Kirby. I never had any intentions of buying one. Why? I was told it wasn't a sales call. I also already own a vacuum cleaner. A good one. And if I'd vacuumed recently, there might not have been as much mite crap to pick up.

On her way out of the door, I had to ask for my freaking steak knives. I only got two. She said they didn't have enough and they'd have to bring two more by today if I wanted them. No thanks. Please don't ever come to my house again.

Happy Anniversary Honey.

I fell for the oldest trick in the book.

After I apologized to him, and let him laugh at me, I kicked myself in the ass. I'm still begging for forgiveness from my inner voice. She told me I was an idiot and she'd reconsider future negotiations with me. I hope she doesn't leave me. I need her.

If the Kirby people come to your door, wave them off. It's *so* not worth it. $2100 for a vacuum cleaner? Just say no.