A Tooth Lost and Vacuum Cleaner Salesmen

Teeth kinda gross me out. I definitely understand the need for them. But, outside of their environment (the mouth), those marbly, larger-than-they-appear, oddly-shapen things make my skin crawl. But there I was just yesterday, sitting in the dentist's chair, having a total baby fit (for me that means crying about irrational things) because I needed a wisdom tooth pulled.

 My wise old tooth had a hole, according to my dentist, I could "golf in". I don't like dentists, never have. The mouth is such a sensitive area that the thought of anyone inserting large needles into that orifice, truly makes me want to projectile vomit. I almost did, the past couple of nights. I don't know if it was hormones or the stress of stressing about this extraction or the headache that accompanied this tooth ache that did it, but I felt sea sick. The nauseous feeling went away by my appointment time but was replaced by this unrelenting fear of dry socket.

The previous extraction I had two years ago, resulted in a dry socket- the most intensely concentrated pain I've ever felt in my life. This pain was worse than labor pains, and worse than my broken foot. Dry socket is at the top of my pain totem pole. So, I sat crying in the dentist's chair, feeling like a total idiot trying to "man-up" so I wouldn't be that wuss who was sobbing over something so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. C'mon! I pushed a baby out of my lady parts like a boss but can't sit through a simple tooth extraction?!? I'm mad at myself.

Ugly, nasty, gnarly tooth
in pretty pink container.

I grabbed my dentists hand while he had a needle in me. I had to swallow. I'm sure he thought I was more of a crazy woman than I am. But thank GOD, the extraction came and went. Afterward, the sweet hygienist with the Western African accent hugged me. I felt like a little kid. All I needed was an oversized sticker on the front of my tee shirt. Instead I asked to take home my tooth. The hygienist put it in a cute little pink tooth container (I'm sure for kids) and off I went with Husband.

We got home and I got comfortable. After a couple of hours, Friend came over and she, Husband and I hung out and laughed and talked about nothing. Sometimes those types of conversations are the best. Then, there was a knock at the door. Oh dear. a door to door vacuum salesman! Not on the day of my extraction! I thought surely, Husband would shoo him away but here was this slender, Middle Eastern man standing in the middle of my living room, sweating all over himself for no good reason. Oh Lawd!

The free cleaner that

got my husband to invite 

Ben into our home.

Ben was his name. I don't think that was really his name. I think that was his "American" name given to him by some mysterious, but I'm sure equally sweaty person waiting in the slogan-less white van that dropped Ben off at our home. What a shame. I really would've liked to know his name. Ben was hard working. I did some research after he left and found out these salesmen often work 100 hours a week! Man! Ben offered to clean our living room for free and we got a free bottle of totally awesome multi purpose cleaner.

Ben was pleasant enough. He told corny jokes as he vacuumed our carpet; showing me how disgusting my house truly was. Uh-Oh's fir was everywhere! But Ben vacuumed and vacuumed and tried as hard as he could to sell us a $3000 machine. Not happening. But I played a game with Ben called "how low can you go?". I didn't tell Ben we were playing this game but I think he knew.  He did us a "favor" and knocked the price down to $2000. We told him that was still too much. He said he needed to call his boss. I secretly love the "boss". It's all so mysterious! He gets on the phone and his "boss" tells him he's going to have to call corporate to get this "special" deal approved. Ok. I'll wait. Meanwhile Friend texted us Amazon listings for the vacuum sitting in our living room starting at $375 used. The stakes just got higher.

The "boss" called back. He knocked the price down to $1800 because Husband is a fireman.  And if we finance, we'll only have 36 easy payments of $50/month. Schnikes! The sweat off Ben's body had now accumulated into areas of his torso I'm not used to seeing sweat. He hungrily took a swig of the Sprite we offered him. I saw his salesman wheels turning. How was he going to get us to buy this vacuum. He was so close. Or so he thought!  I tell Ben 36 months was waaaay too long to finance a vacuum cleaner. In actuality, we try to finance nothing. We like paying in full.

In the flurry of the presentation, 

Hoover, our trusty vacuum

was fired by Ben.

Now, we're playing hardball and the "boss" with the crossed eyes came out of the mystery van and shook all of our hands. On a piece of scrap paper, the "boss" handed me a written figure. $799. I told him we'd still have to finance that figure. He asked if we had credit cards. Husband and I said "no" in chorus. "Boss" seemed frustrated. I gave him back the paper; pretty proud I bargained him down from $3000 to $800. He furiously scribbled on the paper. $499. I wasn't buying this vacuum but I was doing cartwheels inside my body. $499! Yeah! I got him down to the price of a Dyson!

I didn't feel bad for playing my game because I asked Ben earlier if he worked on commission. He said "no". He was paid for cleaning our carpet and giving a presentation. Ok. Fair enough. God is good! He offered me a distraction from this soreness in my mouth, allowed Ben, a hardworking man to earn his pay, and allowed me a free carpet cleaning all while NOT getting taken for a $3000 vacuum. Did I mention before the presentation was over, Ben fired our Hoover? Yeah, he even gave it it's "pink slip" (in this case, one of the vacuum filters Ben was using to show me how much I didn't clean my house). I couldn't help but laugh at that. A big belly laugh. I rehired Hoover after Ben left our house to smoke a cigarette on our driveway and wait for the mysterious white van to reappear and take him to someone else's house.