Thursday, January 15, 2004
Brian from TruGreen
Brian from TruGreen, why did you call me today?
Brian from TruGreen, did you buy my phone number as part of a list, or was my last name simply the next line in the white pages? Did you practice how commanding, authoritative, yet friendly you would greet me with your booming, "William!" after my simple "Hello"? Because I thought you were a friend, or my temp agency, or a job interview, or something very much more exciting than grass.
Brian from TruGreen, did you practice your sales pitch? Are you a savvy sales man who can put on a perfect south-side voice like a favorite pair of shoes? Or are you the real Nowitski, who just studied sales back in college, in between beer kegs and breasts?
Brian from TruGreen, why do you care so much for my lawn? Why is my negligence of "dandylions" so horrifying to you? How will your chemicals make my lawn "Tru"?
Brian from TruGreen, why didn't you listen to me when I told you unemployed people shouldn't be paying for green lawns? You seemed so concerned about "not takin' da bacon from my plate," and understanding that my wife and I would have to discuss this decision because you said you didn't want me "sleepin' on da couch tonight".
Brian from TruGreen, I didn't want to sleep on the couch tonight. So why, why, Brian from TruGreen, didn't you ever shut up and let me get a word in? Didn't they teach you to listen to the customer? I know you had a script in front of you. I know you abandoned it after you ran out of things to say. But then why, why, Brian from TruGreen, did you keep speaking, blathering on like a drunk about green grass and crab grass and permalayers and ants and airborne whatevers?
Brian from TruGreen, I was not saddened or impressed by your claim that you slept in the office. I am not ashamed to write that I laughed as I hung up the phone. Because you. Were. Still. Talking.
Brian from TruGreen, I was still laughing when you called back a minute later, thinking that we had just been disconnected.
Brian from TruGreen, did you buy my phone number as part of a list, or was my last name simply the next line in the white pages? Did you practice how commanding, authoritative, yet friendly you would greet me with your booming, "William!" after my simple "Hello"? Because I thought you were a friend, or my temp agency, or a job interview, or something very much more exciting than grass.
Brian from TruGreen, did you practice your sales pitch? Are you a savvy sales man who can put on a perfect south-side voice like a favorite pair of shoes? Or are you the real Nowitski, who just studied sales back in college, in between beer kegs and breasts?
Brian from TruGreen, why do you care so much for my lawn? Why is my negligence of "dandylions" so horrifying to you? How will your chemicals make my lawn "Tru"?
Brian from TruGreen, why didn't you listen to me when I told you unemployed people shouldn't be paying for green lawns? You seemed so concerned about "not takin' da bacon from my plate," and understanding that my wife and I would have to discuss this decision because you said you didn't want me "sleepin' on da couch tonight".
Brian from TruGreen, I didn't want to sleep on the couch tonight. So why, why, Brian from TruGreen, didn't you ever shut up and let me get a word in? Didn't they teach you to listen to the customer? I know you had a script in front of you. I know you abandoned it after you ran out of things to say. But then why, why, Brian from TruGreen, did you keep speaking, blathering on like a drunk about green grass and crab grass and permalayers and ants and airborne whatevers?
Brian from TruGreen, I was not saddened or impressed by your claim that you slept in the office. I am not ashamed to write that I laughed as I hung up the phone. Because you. Were. Still. Talking.
Brian from TruGreen, I was still laughing when you called back a minute later, thinking that we had just been disconnected.
