Well, I have a funny story to tell you. It’s actually quite cruel what I did but my lack of filter for showing love also allows for the opposite end of the spectrum to be realized as well. Both feel good I have come to understand about myself through this process. But,my goal is to stay in the sharing of love and appreciation for those around me with an occasional setting straight of those who need it, according to me.
So here’s the story.
It had been an awful day. Paperwork involving the affairs of Jordon’s death seems to be a bad trigger for me. It seems final- closing down his SIN card,health card, drivers license all mean permanence and the end, and that is not in keeping with my beliefs of reality. It hurts. I had to fill out a 6 page detailed report of what happened in order to satisfy some stupid requirement of process with a company in the USA. That was gut-wrenching. So at the end of the day and the end of a couple of well-deserved drinks, a knock came at my front door. I answered it and the person at the other side was Beaver Cleaver selling newspaper subscriptions for the Hamilton Spectator. He was a university student he let me know quickly and that he was making money by selling these subscriptions. He started going into all my options. I said politely, “No, thank you, I don’t think I will be reading the paper any time soon”. So his sales training I guess taught him how to overcome that objection, and he thus commenced to up-selling me on the on-line version and deliveries only on weekends. Again, I politely (being concerned about the environment in not wasting paper) said, “I don’t think so.” AGAIN, he started. Then, I dropped the bomb. I couldn’t help myself.
I said to him, “Look dude, my husband just died a week and a half ago, and I really don’t give a shit about what’s happening in Hamilton right now.”
The look on his face I would have paid a ransom due to have a camera shot of it! His face told me he had just swallowed his tongue. He nodded, excused himself, and ran away. Poor soul.
I have a wickedly raw low threshold for anything annoying right now and that was as much of an eye-opener for me as it was for him. It might have actually ended his sales career, or it might have improved it greatly. The choice is his.
I closed the door and it hit me. You know that funny feeling of laughter that absolutely paralyzes your legs and you almost drop to your knees? It felt good, wickedly good.
One thought on “Dropping Bombs”
I don’t even know how I ended up here, but I thought this post was good.
I do not know who you are but definitely you are going
to a famous blogger if you are not already 😉 Cheers!