A large part of August on The
Eastern Shore welcomes the annual harvest of tomatoes, potatoes, and corn. So it was with great anticipation that I
greeted this scrumptious yield of three of my favorite foods.
For the record, my other favorite
foods include prime rib, watermelon, rib eye steak, meatloaf, butter, oysters,
and the king of that infamous food pyramid, salt. But I digress.
My sainted wife and I had
prepared a pork loin, glazed with pineapple and mango, corn-on-the-cob, and sliced
tomatoes. We were enjoying this modest
feast when my phone rang.
Mid-chew, I answered this
cellular device only to hear a perky woman’s pre-recorded voice informing me I
had just won a free cruise.
I don’t want a free cruise. I don’t want any cruise. I weigh enough. Friends and family have been telling us for
years how terrific cruises are. They
dress up for dinner. They dress down for lunch.
They get bottomless drinks. They
have stage shows.
Yadda, yadda, yadda.
Fantastic desserts on the planet,
bowling, surfing, movies, gambling, miniature golf – you name it – it’s the
bestest!
Unfortunately, all these acquaintances,
except one, return with an extra 25 pounds because of all this wonderful food
and lack of exercise.
“You should go,” is the common
advice from most of my misery-loves-company buddies.
Thanks anyway.
But the whole point of this is
not about all the goodies that can be had on cruises rather, it is about that
triggering phone call.
I was home, minding my own
business, when I was rudely interrupted by some schmuck who didn’t care about
my dinner.
Here’s the rub. My sainted wife and I shop fairly often. It seems as though we never have that tub of
sour cream, or jar of olives, or splash of Marsala, so we are usually on the
road either going to or from the market.
When we are in the store, no one
– again, no one – ever asks us if we need help finding anything in their
store. As such, we wind up wandering
aimlessly, much as refugees would in a foreign country, searching for our necessary
goods.
Or, if I call your business, I’m
invariably put on hold for countless minutes, only to eventually hang up
without conducting any business whatsoever.
So why would it be better for
these merchants to try to sell me something when I’m home, but not when I’m in
their store?
That seems counterintuitive
still, it happens.
Cruises, vacations, time shares,
vacuum cleaners, and steaks, are just a few of the spiels I receive pretty
regularly from shady merchants and con artists.
Here’s a business plan you
merchants might want to employ on a trial basis: talk to me when I’m in your
shop; when I’m at home, leave me alone!
I love fresh corn!
