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Title : Death of a Salesman
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Death of a Salesman
I’m going to rewrite this play for 2017 and call it Death-Of-Myself-After-Everyone-I-Meet-Tries-to-Sell-Me-Shit-I-Don’t-Need-or-Want-and-That-Collects-Dust-the-Second-I-Buy-It.Like I just can’t deal you guys, and I feel kind of bad because I’m truly not trying to drag anyone’s hobby or business model. But there is a reason I’ve worked in the public sector for almost 20 years. I suck at sales, and I am super uncomfortable when people try to sell stuff to me. I don’t need more stuff. I don’t want more stuff. To the contrary, I want to conflagrate at LEAST 75% of my stuff in a controlled burn in the cul-de-sac outside my house.
To paraphrase Lloyd Dobbler in Say Anything, I hate stuff. I hate buying stuff. I hate selling stuff. I hate having stuff sold to me. I hate the stuff I have. I hate the stuff I don’t have. I hate the stuff I don’t even know about. I hate the stuff that doesn’t even exist yet.
I even and especially hate selling stuff for my kids’ schools fundraisers, which is just as bad in my opinion and is absolute torture. At least then, however, I can force my kids to troll the halls of my office by themselves and/or go door-to-door with their palms out for (arguably) a “good cause” or whatever and hope they can get by on being cute.
But truth be told, I would way rather just fork over the value of the coffee or wrapping paper or cookie dough or raffle tickets or whatever the fuck it is and be done with all of it immediately in one fell swoop. In fact, I just want the school fundraiser sales tax to be withheld from my paycheck.
Can we do that? Can this be part of the tax overhaul maybe?
Like I honestly can’t think of a single thing that would ever show up in the mail or that I would buy in someone’s living room that I want, much less need. I feel like I am the last person left on earth who: (a) isn’t leading a direct marketing scheme; (b) isn’t participating in a direct marketing scheme; and (c) totally can’t deal with direct marketing schemes.
It’s super awkward, because it forces me to be kind of a dick when I don’t mean to be a dick or want to be one. But I can’t rub peppermint oil on my face and I can’t put special wrinkle creams on it and I don’t need candles that smell like warm vanilla sugar brownies or scarves or leggings with cool patterns or any of that shit.
I’ve got 99 problems, and wanting to stick my head in an oven over buying and selling stuff when I’m not even voluntarily in a store is definitely one of them.
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