Avon ladies are lovely. They're a doddle. They don't seem to care too much if you tell them you're not interested; that the last time you tried to renew the cells on your face with Hydro-phanny-pre-vita-biotic mega Serum 19, your skin erupted in a mass of angry, red-raw wheals which took a fortnight out of your life to calm down. They smile, they say 'ah well' and they're on their way.
The guy from the local Dairy took some beating. Not literally, you understand, but Hubby was sorely tempted, let me tell you. And I couldn't have been more forceful with my 'Not for us, thanks' either but each time he upped the ante and came right back at me with more valid reasons as to why we should have our dairy products delivered to our door in the wee smalls.
Point 1. It would be serving our community. (i.e. his Dairy I'm guessing)- my repsonse: "I do understand how difficult it must be in these times of credit crunch etc, but..."
Point 2. We wouldn't have to buy our dairy produce at the supermarket (instead we'd be paying extra for having it delivered at times we may not want it and in quantities we might feel the need to change at a second's notice - you know how it gets) - my response: But I'd rather. It's on the list, I'm at the supermarket anyway - I don't cope well with change (that's altering things - not coins of small denomination...)
Point 3. We would be the only house in the street not participating (you miserable, penny-pinching non-supportive ex-members of this so-called community) my response: "Ah well, you can't win them all" - not received in the good humour it was intended.
Would I try it out for a month? "No, thanks." But I would speak to the Hubby and see what he said.
Ha Ha! It's usually the other way round - the husbands have to get permission from the wives first! which completely got my back up and I wish I'd said "ah but actually that was my final get-out clause as you don't seem to have been hearing any of the others".
Of course following my string of NO THANKS, we started to have milk delivered to us! The wrong *strength* milk and at times that we really didn't want/need it. And it took us two weeks of ringing the Dairy to convince them that we hadn't signed up for anything in the first place.
And they had the gall to bill us for the milk we never even took in. Aaarrrggghhhhhhh!!!
So do I still maintain my rose-tinted ideal of the lovely British milk float whirring quaintly up the roads at four in the morning, bringing cheer and a certain amount of cholestoral to the English countryside?
Er... No, thanks.