Journal Interrobang's Journal: I Did A Bad, Bad Thing on Saturday 9
After too few hours of sleep, no caffeine, two "hang-up" phone calls, and with an incipient intestinal migraine, at 10:30 Saturday morning (I wasn't even dressed!), my doorbell went off. I can't say "it rang," because my doorbell does not ring, it buzzes like a low-tech collision alarm, only twice as loudly. I swore, put on my housecoat, and trudged downstairs to find two of the creepiest, greasiest, scariest characters on my front step. Since I have a downstairs neighbour in the house (it's been split into two apartments), and since people are always ringing my doorbell when they want her (I don't know what part of "Upper" and "Lower" labelled on the doorbells is so hard to read!), I asked them what they wanted.
The older of the two of them, a sort of greying, middle-aged, bespectacled operator (in the "confidence artist" sense of the term), smiled at me (and so did his greasy-haired, shiny-eyed younger accomplice in the rumpled black suit), and said, "We'd just like to talk to you about the Bible this morning," and reached into his disreputable-looking satchel.
Well, I lost it. I not only shot them the bird, but I started yelling at them (and I can yell *very* loudly after 10 years or so of singing lessons) to get off my porch, and if they didn't, I was going to call the police.
I think I scared my downstairs neighbour to death, and now I feel really guilty about scaring her, but I wasn't very awake, and not feeling very well -- and I'm *not* someone you want to annoy when I'm half-asleep, uncaffeinated, and developing a migraine. Whoops.
There were *much* better ways I could have handled that, but I'm a hand grenade with the pin pulled, first thing in the morning. I need anger management lessons, I guess... I mean, if I'd had my wits about me, I could have given them the old "I don't speak English" routine in going-on-five languages (one simply by repeating sentences more or less by rote, sorry to say). I could have argued with them. I could have asked them if they'd like to come up and help me sacrifice the black cat (in evidence at the top of the stairs)...but no. When I'm underslept, undercaffeinated, and undermedicated, I am a time bomb.
Be warned!
The older of the two of them, a sort of greying, middle-aged, bespectacled operator (in the "confidence artist" sense of the term), smiled at me (and so did his greasy-haired, shiny-eyed younger accomplice in the rumpled black suit), and said, "We'd just like to talk to you about the Bible this morning," and reached into his disreputable-looking satchel.
Well, I lost it. I not only shot them the bird, but I started yelling at them (and I can yell *very* loudly after 10 years or so of singing lessons) to get off my porch, and if they didn't, I was going to call the police.
I think I scared my downstairs neighbour to death, and now I feel really guilty about scaring her, but I wasn't very awake, and not feeling very well -- and I'm *not* someone you want to annoy when I'm half-asleep, uncaffeinated, and developing a migraine. Whoops.
There were *much* better ways I could have handled that, but I'm a hand grenade with the pin pulled, first thing in the morning. I need anger management lessons, I guess... I mean, if I'd had my wits about me, I could have given them the old "I don't speak English" routine in going-on-five languages (one simply by repeating sentences more or less by rote, sorry to say). I could have argued with them. I could have asked them if they'd like to come up and help me sacrifice the black cat (in evidence at the top of the stairs)...but no. When I'm underslept, undercaffeinated, and undermedicated, I am a time bomb.
Be warned!
If it makes you feel any better... (Score:2)
I'd love to get some of the telesales people in range for a good yell. We get 8-10 "Unavailable" calls a day. Every once in a while, I pick up the phone, and there is almost never anyone on the other end. It's bizarre (or we've offended someone with an autodialing machine). Worse is that we actually have to pay attention, since
Re:If it makes you feel any better... (Score:1)
If I'm generous, I'll put on one of the cable news channels.
Yeah, I don't know why. (Score:2)
Uhm, NO. WHO ARE YOU?! You are nobody to me! Why would I want to share with you my beliefs on life? They were hard earned through intense existential crisis. Who the fuck are you again?! Figure it out on your own! I don't have time to be your prophet/messiah!
Re:Yeah, I don't know why. (Score:2)
These missionaries may be nobody to you or to me
I personally have so much more respect for people who have religious beliefs but do not need
I wrote a JE about this (Score:2)
That's assuming, of course, that you're all there (Score:4, Funny)
My best story along those lines was being harassed by some dipshit who saw my Seal of Solomon pendant (a medieval pilgrim's charm, among other things) and felt that it was deathly important to tell me how pagans and Wiccans were "in league" with the Masons and the Gnomes of Zurich or some similar shite. However, the spring rolls at the Pho Benh Thanh were calling my name, and I had six blocks or so to walk before I could get some, so I kept it short, and sweet. I said, "My friend, before you get started with that, do me one favour." "Of course!" (interested look because he figures he can get a convert -- ha!) "Reach around behind your head" (he did) "grab the hair at the back of your neck...and pull your head out of your ass!"
Normally I'm a little more together, if not more polite.
OT: Foe of a Friend (Score:2)
On the plus side, since you are now Friend, Fan, Friend of Friend, and Foe of Friend, whenever you make a comment it shows up in all kinds of fancy colors, immediately drawing my attention and putting me into a trance-like state (oooh
What I did to poor Mr. Xerithane (Score:2)
I don't blame you! (Score:1)
I can't wait for a religion-sales-associate to show up at my new apartment; I'll get to watch my *roommates* scare them--and as you know, I room with scary people!
Tucker