Impugning my honesty
Mar. 14th, 2009 11:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
todayiamadaisyThere was a knock at the door yesterday evening: a door-to-door electricity salesman. Honestly, they haunt me, these people. I've had three in the last fortnight, each from a different electricity supplier, each promising that my electricity bill would be lower with his company. At least, they would promise that if they got the chance. I usually say 'not interested, thanks' and send them on their way.
Yesterday's chappy was particularly persistent and I eventually resorted to telling him that I was not the droid he was looking for. 'Sorry, the bills aren't in my name, I just live here. I don't know when the owner will be back.' That wasn't so much a little white lie as a big fat fib, but he shrugged and said it was his unlucky day and off he went.
I went too: through the house to the back garden, where I had been sitting outside with a book, a mug of Milo and a CD playing. I'd only just sat down again when Mr Electricity appeared from round the side of the house. Not through the gate and down the footpath, but across Joan Next Door's front garden and through the debris-strewn area where we recently removed the fence. 'I thought I heard voices out here,' he told me. 'I thought perhaps the owner had come back while we were talking.'
'No, it's just the CD,' I said. 'Sorry.' I didn't say anything else and after a moment he left. I wasn't inclined to change electricity suppliers anyway, but definitely not after he followed me round the back of the house. I don't like having my integrity questioned by itinerant electricity supply spruikers, especially when I'm lying to them.
Yesterday's chappy was particularly persistent and I eventually resorted to telling him that I was not the droid he was looking for. 'Sorry, the bills aren't in my name, I just live here. I don't know when the owner will be back.' That wasn't so much a little white lie as a big fat fib, but he shrugged and said it was his unlucky day and off he went.
I went too: through the house to the back garden, where I had been sitting outside with a book, a mug of Milo and a CD playing. I'd only just sat down again when Mr Electricity appeared from round the side of the house. Not through the gate and down the footpath, but across Joan Next Door's front garden and through the debris-strewn area where we recently removed the fence. 'I thought I heard voices out here,' he told me. 'I thought perhaps the owner had come back while we were talking.'
'No, it's just the CD,' I said. 'Sorry.' I didn't say anything else and after a moment he left. I wasn't inclined to change electricity suppliers anyway, but definitely not after he followed me round the back of the house. I don't like having my integrity questioned by itinerant electricity supply spruikers, especially when I'm lying to them.