Unbelievable...
I was in the kitchen preparing dinner when the door bell rings and Mrs. BGG goes to answer it.
I carried on slicing and dicing, until I began to hear raised voices.
So I stop what I am doing and go to investigate.
I pop in to the hall, and there is this 6'2" fellow giving the missus a hard time.
He sees me and takes a slight step backwards, then launches in to his spiel.
"Ello mate, I was jus' wondering if you'd like to save £15 a month on telephone line rental ?"
Before I could grill him on the who, what, where, when and why's, he immediately continues his spiel.
"Just sign 'ere mate, and I'll sort it out for ya, nice and easy."
I then start to ask him questions...
Me : "Er...who are you ?"
Him : "I'm from T-Mobile"
Me : "Right, so what you really mean is that if we move our domestic land line provider over to T-Mobile, lock stock and barrel, we will get cheaper line rental ?"
Him : "Oh yes Sir, most definitely. So, just sign here and it's all sorted"
Me : "I don't think so. Look, have you got any literature we can read ?"
Him : "Not really no. But if you sign here I'll make sure some gets sent to you"
Me : "No way...I know exactly what will happen...I'll sign for literature to be delivered then suddenly get a Welcome to T-Mobile letter through the door"
Him : <goes quiet>
Missus : "Last time we had a door to door Teleco salesperson come round, they signed us up to their service, without our consent."
Me : <slams the door>
Unbelievable !
Even worse, is that you need a key to get in to the apartment block, or you have to ring a buzzer to get entry (or follow someone through)...so the lyng devious scumbag now has access to everyone else's front doors. Trouble is, some of the fellow neighbours are not the smartest bunnies in the meadow (they're not old old pensioners, but just a bit dim)
Looking back I should have asked to see ID, but what with dinner cooking and my temper rising, I forgot.
Fecking lying devious oily salesman scum...I hate the lot of them
I was in the kitchen preparing dinner when the door bell rings and Mrs. BGG goes to answer it.
I carried on slicing and dicing, until I began to hear raised voices.
So I stop what I am doing and go to investigate.
I pop in to the hall, and there is this 6'2" fellow giving the missus a hard time.
He sees me and takes a slight step backwards, then launches in to his spiel.
"Ello mate, I was jus' wondering if you'd like to save £15 a month on telephone line rental ?"
Before I could grill him on the who, what, where, when and why's, he immediately continues his spiel.
"Just sign 'ere mate, and I'll sort it out for ya, nice and easy."
I then start to ask him questions...
Me : "Er...who are you ?"
Him : "I'm from T-Mobile"
Me : "Right, so what you really mean is that if we move our domestic land line provider over to T-Mobile, lock stock and barrel, we will get cheaper line rental ?"
Him : "Oh yes Sir, most definitely. So, just sign here and it's all sorted"
Me : "I don't think so. Look, have you got any literature we can read ?"
Him : "Not really no. But if you sign here I'll make sure some gets sent to you"
Me : "No way...I know exactly what will happen...I'll sign for literature to be delivered then suddenly get a Welcome to T-Mobile letter through the door"
Him : <goes quiet>
Missus : "Last time we had a door to door Teleco salesperson come round, they signed us up to their service, without our consent."
Me : <slams the door>
Unbelievable !
Even worse, is that you need a key to get in to the apartment block, or you have to ring a buzzer to get entry (or follow someone through)...so the lyng devious scumbag now has access to everyone else's front doors. Trouble is, some of the fellow neighbours are not the smartest bunnies in the meadow (they're not old old pensioners, but just a bit dim)
Looking back I should have asked to see ID, but what with dinner cooking and my temper rising, I forgot.
Fecking lying devious oily salesman scum...I hate the lot of them
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