A Salesman's Dream

I feel a new obsession coming on ... with blogging! No doubt it will last for a while and then, hopefully, it’ll settle down – or not, as the case may be!

I’m tired today. I’ve been for my once-weekly shopping trip, which lasts for a total of three hours, one of which is the travelling there and back. I have it down to a fine art now. I know exactly where I need to go, I take a list with me, and I follow the same routine each week, with the occasional variation for things that are not part of my usual weekly grocery shop. But still I get distracted. And still, despite the list, I find myself with the dilemma of trying to work out how many of something I might need, ‘cos even though I wrote the list I don’t quite trust it! And the memory of what I’ve got back at home has usually faded by the time I am faced with the enticement of all that wonderful fruit and veg. How many sprouts and apples does one person need for a week? Well, apparently, a whole truck-load (if you look in my fridge!) But seriously, how much is enough? I’ve been cooking for myself for over twenty years and I still haven’t worked it out!

I am a salesperson’s dream because of my gullibility, as well as being a nightmare, because I’ll take forever trying to decide. I once had a British Gas rep trying to sell me the idea that I should change my supplier, and he stood there talking for at least ten minutes, believing that he’d got a convertee, only for me to dither at the end and tell him that I’d think about it, and perhaps next year?! It never occurred to me that he was in a hurry to get round as many people as possible because that’s how he gets paid, and that I had essentially wasted his time by being so polite as to let him ramble on because I felt bad about the idea of being rude and telling him “no thanks” before he’d even had a chance to tell me what he was selling! My best friend, who is a neuro-typical and who basically interprets the world for me, had to explain it to me. And still he came back six months later, bringing a fellow employee with him (probably for moral support in case he got caught up in another pointless discussion with me!) This time, though, I was ready: and so was he, ‘cos he cut it very short, having remembered me from the last time! I guess it’s probably hard to forget an encounter with an asperger, isn’t it?!