Why I Love My Job

I b*tch and moan like most folks about my job on most occasions, but now I know, my job rocks. Actually, it Rocks with a capital R, thank you very much.

Last night I, in a quest for all great thing that are free, went to this talk thing about some travel service / time share program. For putting up with salesperson harassment for 1 hour, I received a FREE three day, two night stay at a Marriott.

The problem with the whole interaction, at least as I saw it, was having to pretend that I was actually interested in this deal. And in order to do that, mission number one was for me to keep a very straight, serious look on my face at all times. And so, when the following things escaped from the mouth of Cheeseball Salesman, I could not even hint at the laughter going on inside my head:

• “Lockbox”
  It doesn’t matter how he actually said it (it was in relation to the keys you would have to your condos on trips), but I was immediately transported to in front of my TV a few years back watching a skit about Al Gore on Saturday Night Live
• “We used the Marriott stay to induce you to come here”
  I went bowling with my brother a year or two ago. He bragged about he was able to “induce the ladies.” I thought this was HYSTERICAL and of course asked the obvious big-sister-question. “Induce them to what… vomit? Go into labor?” He didn’t think that was at all funny. So of course the word “induce” has taken on this whole life of it’s own in my head now and when Cheeseball Salesman said it, well, it was rough not to laugh.
• “We just want you to get a toe in the sand… er water.”
  Cheeseball Salesman was FULL of these jumbled up, clichéd sayings. They were so stupid that you HAD to laugh, but it wasn’t with him at ALL.
• “This is where the money hits the road. Or rubber, I guess.”
  See above.

So the evening sales pitch goes on about as expected and when they asked for the $12,000 for the deal, AS IF I HAVE THAT IN MY WALLET, I turn them down. Repeatedly in fact. And as if being present at a live RONCO infomercial, they keep lowering the price. But guess what. I don’t have $8,000 in my wallet either.

My, I thought very tactful, way of nicely turning down the offer was saying that I was interested in travel that involved backpacks and hostels. While condos are nice, I said I planned on saving those types of trips for later in life when I could no longer carry a 100 pound backpack around for a week. And then the Evil Boss Man says, “But a Marriott hotel stay enticed you to come today?” I replied honestly that it had because I had a friend in DC I could visit. And then he says, “Oh, so some of our stuff works for you, then.” And he stomped out of the room like an insolent child!

I could feel bad. But I am to busy planning a FREE trip to DC. And thanking whatever gods and goddesses that exist that I don’t have to pitch DUMB SHITE like that for a living.