Nope, it wasn’t Avon calling. It was a guy with meat for sale. Are they kidding?
“Good morning ma’am. Do you like steak? I’m selling $25 worth of meat for $5,” chirped the cheery door-to-door salesman.
He pointed at a rusty truck with a makeshift freezer compartment in the back and hand-painted lettering on the sides. The thing looked like it might have been t-boned a time or two.
“No, thank you,” I answered and closed my door.
I had no beef with the guy, but I wasn’t buying. Potential food poisoning is no bargain – at any price. And the quality control appeared questionable. Not exactly well done.
The meat salesman didn’t give his name. Maybe it was E. Koleye, Sal Minella, Claus Tridium, or Les Teria. Who knows? He could have been Chuck Waggon, Biff Brisket, Phil Aye, Van Eisen, or Sir Lon Supreme for all I could tell.
Whatever his name, he was a rare one, trying to stake his claim to our neighborhood’s meat consumption business.
Sometimes you just gotta shake your head and wonder. It’s one thing to order meat from a reputable purveyor for home delivery. But cold-call meat for sale smacks of something entirely different.
Well, hot dog!
As the guy climbed into his truck to drive away, I ran a quick online search for his company name. You guessed it: I found nothing online.
I might have a bone to pick with such a business.
Fly-by-night door-to-door discount meat may not be such a great deal, after all. And that’s no baloney.
Adapted from public domain artwork
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