TalleyWhacker
Patron with Honors
I came home early today because there had been some problems with a new a/c unit put on the house and the a/c guy and the factory rep were there.
My wife and the kids were gone.
I'm working in her office and hear the door bell ring so I answer the door.
Two clams with a briefcase looking like the Blues Brothers sent in by the FBI. (WTF? My area has not been issued the capes and little bucket hats yet?)
One was a public/staffer that I'd known from years ago and the other, a middle aged short guy was introduced to me as so and so from the Landlord's Office.
The briefcase I assume has a few glossy sales brochures but I also presume its rather empty as they'd need some sort of carrying device for all the cash they intended to confiscate from under my mattress. The thought about how my youngest son would react if he found his piggybank missing briefly crossed my mind; he's always saving up for latest Lego set.
Being a friendly and confident guy, I let them in but I was thinking it was rather rude of them to come unannounced and expect to have my immediate attention but that's the norm for these guys; I know the pattern.
As I walked them to the nearest table, there were the customary comments about the size of my home, etc, etc. all meant to make me feel like a selfish pig--to interiorize me or as some would say in sales "to ready him for the slaughter". Not to worry--I'm an old hand at handling this technique as its pulled on me whenever my home is selected from the random "hit list".
So as we sit down, I drop the comment that this must be about the Ideal Org program and that their timing is very fortuitous, bordering upon psychic. (Turn about is fair play, isn't it?
)
It was like parading a whore around on a troop train....I could almost feel their pulses quicken, the warm, salty taste of blood in their mouth as they felt this was about to come down as one of the easiest cycles they'd ever been involved with. "How much would they get??" was the only question in their minds as their open mouths hung, waiting for my next comments.
KA-BOOM!
I let them know in no uncertain terms that I have little to agree with in the present direction the church is going and that I want nothing to do with Scientology under the leadership of Slappy. I further explain that my doubt formula will be coming out in the not too distant future and would they like a copy of it.
The landlord guy says yes, I take down his e-mail address and the orgie says no.
Next, I stand up from the table and politely show them to the door. They walked away, stunned.
I must admit, in a sick sort of way, I'm going to miss going up against some of the best pressure cookers in the world or as I say to my wife, "out slicking these guys". Pretty soon, they'll just roll over on their backs and urinate all over themselves when they think about regging me.
Worse yet, they won't even bother.
What will I do then? Go to work in a car lot just to have some fun?
My wife and the kids were gone.
I'm working in her office and hear the door bell ring so I answer the door.
Two clams with a briefcase looking like the Blues Brothers sent in by the FBI. (WTF? My area has not been issued the capes and little bucket hats yet?)
One was a public/staffer that I'd known from years ago and the other, a middle aged short guy was introduced to me as so and so from the Landlord's Office.
The briefcase I assume has a few glossy sales brochures but I also presume its rather empty as they'd need some sort of carrying device for all the cash they intended to confiscate from under my mattress. The thought about how my youngest son would react if he found his piggybank missing briefly crossed my mind; he's always saving up for latest Lego set.
Being a friendly and confident guy, I let them in but I was thinking it was rather rude of them to come unannounced and expect to have my immediate attention but that's the norm for these guys; I know the pattern.
As I walked them to the nearest table, there were the customary comments about the size of my home, etc, etc. all meant to make me feel like a selfish pig--to interiorize me or as some would say in sales "to ready him for the slaughter". Not to worry--I'm an old hand at handling this technique as its pulled on me whenever my home is selected from the random "hit list".
So as we sit down, I drop the comment that this must be about the Ideal Org program and that their timing is very fortuitous, bordering upon psychic. (Turn about is fair play, isn't it?
)It was like parading a whore around on a troop train....I could almost feel their pulses quicken, the warm, salty taste of blood in their mouth as they felt this was about to come down as one of the easiest cycles they'd ever been involved with. "How much would they get??" was the only question in their minds as their open mouths hung, waiting for my next comments.
KA-BOOM!
I let them know in no uncertain terms that I have little to agree with in the present direction the church is going and that I want nothing to do with Scientology under the leadership of Slappy. I further explain that my doubt formula will be coming out in the not too distant future and would they like a copy of it.
The landlord guy says yes, I take down his e-mail address and the orgie says no.
Next, I stand up from the table and politely show them to the door. They walked away, stunned.
I must admit, in a sick sort of way, I'm going to miss going up against some of the best pressure cookers in the world or as I say to my wife, "out slicking these guys". Pretty soon, they'll just roll over on their backs and urinate all over themselves when they think about regging me.
Worse yet, they won't even bother.
What will I do then? Go to work in a car lot just to have some fun?
and do a factual comparative analysis between Obama and Slappy. Their philosophies and Modis Operanti are frighteningly aligned.
