[WP] They told you a vampire lives in the creepy house on the hill, that you shouldn't go near it. But, they have a "solicitors welcome" sign, and you've got a vacuum to sell.

'The flick was practiced. Even this old gentleman staring at me in what I could swear was clothing from the Victorian era probably hadn't before seen such a subtle, clever, practiced bump of a hand against a glass to - just so! - spill his very kindly offered glass of wine on the rug, without breaking the nice glass, getting it mostly on the table, just a few drops on the rug.

"Oh no!" I said, arching my eyebrows in alarm just how I'd practiced in the mirror. "I'm so sorry, but I swear I can get that for you."

"Ohhh?" said the old man, leaning back slightly, seeming to have barely registered the situation. Every time I looked at him it seemed like he was more focused on my neck than my mouth. I clearly needed to up my game - and this was it, the coup de grâce of my moves for sales.

"Yes, well, you see," I said, turning and leaning over my case and pulling out the perfectly-hung portable vacuum, "your normal portable vacuums are known for being weak and having trouble with anything really substantial, not to mention staining, but the Cruce-FX 3000 here-"

"The what?" said the man, suddenly alert, his calm stare into the middle distance suddenly replaced by a sharp look directly into my eyes.

I swelled at the attention. Really shows the importance of a good name. "The Cruce-FX 3000 portable vacuum," I said, getting into the full swing of the 90-second pitch now that it had been invited. "Named for its creator, yours truly, Tom Cruce, not the actor haha, but a much better inventor than the actor luckily for us both." His eyes stayed on me, but I felt the tension lessen slightly. I could feel myself losing the bite, so I kept talking as I shoved a battery in the vacuum, deciding not to go into the convenience of the swappable batteries and jump straight to the juicy bits. "It's powered by an engine whose intake design I came up with on my own," I said as I knelt down to the stain, "looks a lot like a special dust-combing F intake going into a spinning X holding chamber. It's fully described in the manual, being home-repair friendly."

"And vat do you want to do vith this... Cruce-FX?" said the old man. A-ha, I thought, hook line and sinker.

"Why, no more than this." I pressed a button, and the vacuum came on. "I want," I said, pressing against the carpet, "to suck up that wine."

Sure enough, the wine came right out the old rug, along with quite a bit of extra dust. I leaned in, preparing to remark upon how clean the carpet looked when I felt a chill breeze alongside me.

I startled, realizing the old man was alongside me, his face nearly upon mine, but just a mite lower.

"Ah," said the man. "I know this feel. You see, I... vant," he said, leaning slowly closer," to zuck your blood," he said, or something like that. I hadn't been challenged with a moment like this in any of my pitch trainings - probably I misheard him, and figured I'd have to talk to my pitch counselor about it, but in the mean time, I decided to keep pressing the pitch, and said "here's where it all went!"

I clicked open the chamber release with the thump-press button, and out popped the chamber, an almost perfect X - really more of a lowercase t, but I hadn't liked the name of the "Cruce-F-lowercase-t" chamber as much, and figured I could get a little artistic license, being the inventor and all. The client looked down at my hand, and his face went somehow whiter than before - then he rose so quickly it seemed as if he was flung backwards.

"Get out of my house!" yelled the man, and that's how I ended up here.'

The barkeep stared at me. It registered that maybe five or six of the patrons had begun listening, and I started to feel a little crowded, but my marketing senses were tingling. Something was happening here.

"He just, kicked you out?" Asked the barkeep, an eyebrow lifting in bemusement. He, too, it seemed, had kept checking my neck when I told that story. Something to keep in mind if you're in Transylvania, they seem to do that often. But, in any case-

"After you showed him your, uh -" the man sitting next to me said, motioning at my case by my side, one of the Cruce-FX 3000s hanging off the side as a conversation-starter.

"After I showed him how great it was, yeah!" I said to the man, who looked at me, frowning hard. "Crazy, right?"

For a moment, it was all stares.

Then, the man sitting next to me said: "How much for one of these CruceFX things, again?"

Sold out the whole bag that night, I did.

3 comments

'The flick was practiced. Even this old gentleman staring at me in what I could swear was clothing from the Victorian era probably hadn't before seen such a subtle, clever, practiced bump of a hand against a glass to - just so! - spill his very kindly offered glass of wine on the rug, without breaking the nice glass, getting it mostly on the table, just a few drops on the rug.
"Oh no!" I said, arching my eyebrows in alarm just how I'd practiced in the mirror. "I'm so sorry, but I swear I can get that for you."
"Ohhh?" said the old man, leaning back slightly, seeming to have barely registered the situation. Every time I looked at him it seemed like he was more focused on my neck than my mouth. I clearly needed to up my game - and this was it, the coup de grâce of my moves for sales.
"Yes, well, you see," I said, turning and leaning over my case and pulling out the perfectly-hung portable vacuum, "your normal portable vacuums are known for being weak and having trouble with anything really substantial, not to mention staining, but the Cruce-FX 3000 here-"
"The what?" said the man, suddenly alert, his calm stare into the middle distance suddenly replaced by a sharp look directly into my eyes.
I swelled at the attention. Really shows the importance of a good name. "The Cruce-FX 3000 portable vacuum," I said, getting into the full swing of the 90-second pitch now that it had been invited. "Named for its creator, yours truly, Tom Cruce, not the actor haha, but a much better inventor than the actor luckily for us both." His eyes stayed on me, but I felt the tension lessen slightly. I could feel myself losing the bite, so I kept talking as I shoved a battery in the vacuum, deciding not to go into the convenience of the swappable batteries and jump straight to the juicy bits. "It's powered by an engine whose intake design I came up with on my own," I said as I knelt down to the stain, "looks a lot like a special dust-combing F intake going into a spinning X holding chamber. It's fully described in the manual, being home-repair friendly."
"And vat do you want to do vith this... Cruce-FX?" said the old man. A-ha, I thought, hook line and sinker.
"Why, no more than this." I pressed a button, and the vacuum came on. "I want," I said, pressing against the carpet, "to suck up that wine."
Sure enough, the wine came right out the old rug, along with quite a bit of extra dust. I leaned in, preparing to remark upon how clean the carpet looked when I felt a chill breeze alongside me.
I startled, realizing the old man was alongside me, his face nearly upon mine, but just a mite lower.
"Ah," said the man. "I know this feel. You see, I... vant," he said, leaning slowly closer," to zuck your blood," he said, or something like that. I hadn't been challenged with a moment like this in any of my pitch trainings - probably I misheard him, and figured I'd have to talk to my pitch counselor about it, but in the mean time, I decided to keep pressing the pitch, and said "here's where it all went!"
I clicked open the chamber release with the thump-press button, and out popped the chamber, an almost perfect X - really more of a lowercase t, but I hadn't liked the name of the "Cruce-F-lowercase-t" chamber as much, and figured I could get a little artistic license, being the inventor and all. The client looked down at my hand, and his face went somehow whiter than before - then he rose so quickly it seemed as if he was flung backwards.
"Get out of my house!" yelled the man, and that's how I ended up here.'
The barkeep stared at me. It registered that maybe five or six of the patrons had begun listening, and I started to feel a little crowded, but my marketing senses were tingling. Something was happening here.
"He just, kicked you out?" Asked the barkeep, an eyebrow lifting in bemusement. He, too, it seemed, had kept checking my neck when I told that story. Something to keep in mind if you're in Transylvania, they seem to do that often. But, in any case-
"After you showed him your, uh -" the man sitting next to me said, motioning at my case by my side, one of the Cruce-FX 3000s hanging off the side as a conversation-starter.
"After I showed him how great it was, yeah!" I said to the man, who looked at me, frowning hard. "Crazy, right?"
For a moment, it was all stares.
Then, the man sitting next to me said: "How much for one of these CruceFX things, again?"
Sold out the whole bag that night, I did.
- Fantastic story! loved it
I take a step towards the house, but stop to reconsider. It’s that sign. I’ve seen all kinds of signs threatening solicitors (admittedly, some of which were pretty funny) but never a sign welcoming them.