An open letter to the solicitor I just shooed somewhat unceremoniously from my office:
Miss Unnamed Solicitor: (please note, you’re not a dear.)
In future, when invading my place of work and/or personal office (“Inner Sanctum”) unrequested and unannounced, please observe the following:
1. Copious quantities of perfume and/or body spray are prohibited within the Inner Sanctum. If I can smell you at 50 feet, and still smell you ten minutes after you’ve gone….GO HOME AND SHOWER. Or if that’s not clear enough: Living flowers are attractive. Rotten, stanky essence of something-pretending-to-be-floral is not. YOU STINK. GO AWAY NOW.
2. When I politely ask if this is a solicitation call, you don’t actually fool me by responding “No, I’m just the new rep in the neighborhood and I came in to introduce myself.” If I’ve never heard of your company before and my firm doesn’t use, purchase or subscribe to its services…this isn’t a social call. It’s a solicitation. GO AWAY. Or if that’s not clear: GO AWAY NOW.
3. If I tell you I’m busy and don’t have interest in a solicitation visit, please do NOT attempt to sit down in my client chairs and start a conversation. I didn’t invite you to sit down. In fact, I asked you to…(say it with me) GO AWAY. The fact that I said it politely, and used the words “Thank you for stopping by, but I don’t have time for conversations and I’m not interested in solicitations today” does not constitute an invitation to plant your bottom in my dragon-headed chairs. If that’s not clear, permit me to rephrase: DO NOT WANT. YOU GO ‘WAY.
4. Complimenting my antique, hand-carved, dragon-headed Chinese client chairs will not win either my time or my approval of your continuing presence. I know the chairs are nice. That would be why I bought them. In a related story, I haven’t yet taught them to bite solicitors on the buttocks but my shoe is perfectly competent for that task if you still fail to get the message. You’re not here to become my friend, and I have enough friends who aren’t trying to sell me something anyway. (PS: they like the chairs too, only their appreciation is sincere. Yours was a sad, pathetic attempt at sincerity…FAIL.) Oh, that and: …GO AWAY.
The fact that you insisted on injecting yourself, and your apprentice hanger-on, into my Friday afternoon was not – of itself – enough to get you turned into my personal pinata of fisk. The fact that you attempted to ignore no less than four clear statements of polite dismissal and earned yourself a direct invitation to leave…well, that does. I decided not to try and bill you for the valuable lesson in “request to depart 101″ your little apprentice learned, nor for the six minutes of my time it took me to (a) convince you to remove your insistent and loathsome-smelling self from my presence and (b) flog you in effigy on the Internet, but be warned: next time you might not be so lucky.
Next time, I’m using your company name as well.
Sincerely, (because if you’re going to blow someone off, you might as well do it this way)
Proprietor and Fisker in Chief.