Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Compact Fluorescent

Ron the light bulb salesman stops by nearly every day. This is a big place and we do go through a lot of bulbs but it seems like weekly visits should suffice. He's a nice guy but overly friendly. "Thank you my friend, thank you. You're a good man. Thank you. Thank you," he'll say, gripping your hand like it was a rope thrown to him from the deck of a ship. "It's like selling hamburgers," he says every time I see him, "You have to sell a million of 'em to make ends meet." From what I hear Ron does just fine for himself. Sends his kids to good schools,  owns a nice big home in the suburbs and another at the beach. The switch over from incandecsents to the new energy-saving models was a particularly profitable for him. For a while there he was swinging by twice a day instead of just once. One time I remember we had a shortage of a certain hard-to-find bulb and we had to put a rush order through a competing supplier. When Ron came in and saw the boxes sitting there he suddenly stopped talking and thanking me and walked over to them. He bent down and examined the boxes, reading the shipping labels carefully. I made a joke and he just nodded and looked distracted and left without saying another word. I didn't see him for a couple of days after that. When he returned he seemed his old, manically effusive self. "Thank you so much my friend. Thank you." Then he paused. "I may be getting too old for this," he said, then squeezed and pumped my hand and thanked me seven or eight more times and got into his gigantic pick up truck and sped away.

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