I’m a regular at my local Red Cross. Maybe I should have started off by saying that I give blood regularly. Saying “I’m a regular at my local Red Cross” makes me sound like some junkie vampire.
Anyway, they like me there. I have good veins and I bleed quickly. And as tough as the whole needle-in-the-arm thing is, I go as often as I can. For the most part, the people there are nice. But there’s this one guy, who staffs the cookie and juice area who’s kind of pushy.
I’m sure he means well, but he tries forcing you into setting an appointment that day for some future date. And after that, he has to tell you about his Corvette. The usual conversation goes something like this:
Him: “Let me show you my car….See? There it is! That grey car”
Him: “That’s a Corvette, you know”
Me: “Oh..the lights on the back”
Him: “It’s five years old- only has 40,000 miles”
Him: “Well, I only drive it when the weather’s nice….Leather interior….not a scratch”
And he goes on and on. And it’s the same conversation every single time. So today, I figured I’d see if I could make it interesting:
Him: “Let me show you my car…See? There it is! That grey car”
Me: “That corvette over there?”
Him: “Oh yes! You like corvettes?”
Me: “Um…my ex-stepfather had one” (true statement)
Him: “Really? Lucky man!”
Me: “He tried running me over with it once “(not-so-true statement)
Him: “Well, mine’s five years old- only has 40,000 miles…I only drive it when the weather’s nice….Leather interior….not a scratch”
Nice to know he sticks to the script. At that point, I left with my cookies.