I'm Stupid, and it's Okay

Something about sitting on a porch must make a body look stupid. That's at least one plausible conclusion to be drawn one morning last week as Tessa and I were taking in a cool breeze. Some middle-aged guy came down the street with a notepad in his hand and nearly walked past our driveway before turning and calling back, "You interested in gettin' your yard mowed?" I looked at the yard. It had been mowed thirty-six hours earlier. Not only that, the flower beds were looking their best. This was perhaps the one week each year when our yard has that professionally-maintained appeal. I laughed a little and then glanced across the street. Their lawn was topping out at a foot high. I said no and thanked the guy. I thought he'd turn and go up the driveway across the street, but he didn't. They didn't seem to need his services. The "lawn guy" continued up the street. Perhaps, he'd already been turned down by our friends, but I still wondered. Did we look that stupid?

Upon reflection, I realized that the lawn guy was paying us a compliment by his hasty retreat. The guy selling the security alarm system the week before must have thought we were not only stupid but guarding untold wealth in rare metals, precious stones, and bearer bonds. As with "lawn guy," the interview took place on the porch. I couldn't hear him in the house because all four dogs were in full cry at the sight of him. Usually, I can shut them up with a hand clap, but they didn't like this chap one bit. Anyway, we adjourned to the porch where I was told about this free system he wanted to install. I knew this bit, too. The system is free. You pay four hundred ninety-five smackers for the sign in your yard, or something. He kept mentioning Mag down the street who just bought a system the last time he offered this free deal. Mag is the lady two houses down who told us we need to keep our dogs on a leash when they're in our yard. I told her she needs to mind her own business and call the cops when our dogs get in her yard. She's had a stupid look stuck on her face since that day. Considering my contribution, the security alarm guy should have given me part of his commission from selling to her. I kept gesturing over my shoulder at the door behind me every time Tessa's little dachsund let go in the house. "She does that when there's a stray cat in the yard," I said. "Or anything other organism, mammal or above." I turned the guy away with a handshake and went inside to pet my security system and give them all a treat.

Maybe I am stupid. I thought that growing a pony tail would stop sales people from bothering me. I know that if I were a salesman, I wouldn't bother a guy with a pony tail if he were driving a Bentley. I bombed at sales by the way. I have two brothers in sales who both make a handsome living at it. When I tried the business, I couldn't stand it. One of them told me, "You're not hungry enough." I understand what he meant. I've just never been that hungry. Money is way too easy to make other ways.