blog.big-woop.com

For those of you not privy to every nook and cranny of my life (i.e. those that require my blogging to know what's going on in Toddworld), I got a job. Well, I mean, kind of. Yeah. It's a job. I guess.

I'm a salesman. A big, fat, fucking shill. But not just your run-of-the-mill, door-to-door, I'm-here-to-offer-you-the-opportunity-of-a-lifetime shill. I'm selling vacuum cleaners.

Well, selling, I suppose, would be the wrong word. I'm demo-ing vacuum cleaners and have so far sold two; one of them was returned and the other is likely going to be returned. But it ain't all bad. For instance, today I blasted Zeppelin in the car on the way to the distribution office, pretty much just screaming at the top of my lungs. And no one was there to tell me to shut up. This is something I plan on doing often, on my way to and from appointments. And it turns out I'm not absolutely terrible at it (Selling the vacuums, that is. I by no means consider myself a good singer.). I mean, the fact that I convinced my first two customers to purchase a Kirby (even if they returned it or are likely going to do so) means something, right? Right?

However, just about every three or four minutes I realize, once again, that I am, indeed, a vacuum salesman. And that's ridiculous. So ridiculous I often feel like punching myself.

Anyway, if you want me to stop by your house so you can laugh at my sorry ass and get a free carpet shampooing, drop me a line.