1/19 Recap

I was at work today when I get a call on my cell phone from an area code that's either my aunt (who wants to give me Lakers tickets), my cousin (who wants to go to dinner sometime this week) or this guy I had given my number to in September. We had hung out once but then he seemed really young and annoyingly flakey so I didn't have much interest. He called a few times after that and I turned down the invitations politely, and then just stopped picking up when he still kept calling. Normally I let that area code go to voicemail in case it's him, but I figured that since it's been a couple of months since I last heard from him, I'd be safe.

Wrong.

So we chat and I remember he's a nice guy, even though I don't have any romantic interest in him. We talk about our New Year's, about bad knees, his work etc. and then he segues into, "Speaking of work, that's actually the reason I called. Would you be interested in working with me?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"What we would do is we'd go get coffee; then we'd sit down together and I would look at your current investments and your goals, and come up with a strategy to help you maximize your investments."

What?

He's cold-calling the people in his little black book? What a fucking asshole.

So I say, "Well actually, I just transferred all of my investments to Morgan Stanley literally 2 months ago and I have a friend of a friend handling my account so I can't pull out now." (heee! I said "pull out")

"I understand," he says. "But would you be interested in buying insurance? We provide a wide range of insurances that protect you from many things that can occur. For instance, do you know much about disability insurance? With disability insurance, if your back got bad enough to the point that it prevented you from working, did you know that disability insurance could cover you at nearly the same salary that you would be making at your job?"

Yeah, he's definitely giving me a sales pitch. I tell him that I'm not interested and thankfully my work phone happens to ring at the same time so I have to go.

So he tells me to let him know if things don't work out with Morgan Stanley and then asks if he should give me a call the next time he and his buddies hang out at Q's [a local sports bar].

I wish I had said, "No, that won't be necessary."

But I'm too fucking polite.

Pisser.

Fucktard.

Dumbass.

I hate salesmen.

I went to see the psychohypnotist today. Interesting. I'm going to give it up to 4 sessions to see if it produces any results. If it does, I will be singing her praise from the mountaintops.

Today's mood: Supposedly reprogrammed