Fun & Famous

The sentence that scares off every aggressive salesperson

Jet is being called. On her mobile. Whether she is interested in a HelloFresh subscription. You know, for some people a super handy food box that conjures up the most surprising meals on your plate all week long. No thank you, said Jet. No interest.

Why not, the HelloFresh Jehovah wanted to know. “Well, I really enjoy grocery shopping myself and thinking about what I’m going to make.” Jet remained polite. Did Jet know that they also had a three-day box at HelloFresh? Then she could just cook whatever she wanted on the other days. Now the HelloFresh man had firmly wedged his foot in the door. Because he was sure she would get a lot of inspiration from the box. “Sir. I am not interested.” When he kept insisting, she pulled the I-have-written-my-own-cookbook card and finally he backed down.

I once ordered such a box too and as much as I like the initiative, it didn’t work for me. So I canceled. Why, they wanted to know here too. In writing, by phone, by email, and in person. Because I have had a cheerful, bespectacled girl in a cooking apron with a tall hat at my door four times proclaiming the gospel of HelloFresh.

But enough about our sometimes overly enthusiastic cooking friends. Because for many people they are a lifesaver and a marriage saver. Then there’s the phone terror. As soon as I’m home during office hours, the phone rings. And no, it’s not an old aunt wanting to know how we are. The first sentence is standard: “Am I speaking with Mrs. Van der Horst?” Then it’s a matter of wrapping up the conversation as quickly as possible and saying that I really know I can register with the Do Not Call Register and then, at least for now, I’m rid of these nuisances.
But I’m too lazy for that. There’s a trick that works best, much more effectively and better than that Do Not Call Register. I once experienced it myself when I had the worst student job ever and had to sell the Algemeen Dagblad as a telemarketer by calling poor people on their free evening and reciting my rehearsed spiel.

One day I had a clearly elderly man on the line. “I don’t need a newspaper, ma’am. I can’t read.” My heart sank, how awkward this was. “But know this, ma’am,” the man continued, “I can n**k very well!”

I immediately quit that same evening and never, ever, ever tried to sell anything to anyone again. So if you’re being bothered again, this sentence really works.