You’re fat, and your vacuum sucks, too
A few weeks back I received a phone call from a very pleasant woman on behalf of the Clovis Research Center. We’re on the Do Not Call list, but honestly, she was so professional and courteous I not only forgave the phone call, I answered a couple of questions for a survey (she assured me it would be quick, and it was). I only remember one, asking what we used for a vacuum (perhaps the others were demographic—age, etc.).
The next week I received another call from the same woman, informing me that for our participation we would be receiving a “thank you” of a three day, two night stay in Reno. Now I was suspicious; she assured me that there was no further obligation, that the voucher would never expire, and that it was completely transferable.
“Certainly, there must be a catch,” I insisted. “None,” she explained. “When would be a good time to deliver? I have someone who can come out tomorrow evening.”
Long story short, the “research center” sent a delivery man instead of mailing the voucher so that he could show us a HEPA system and ask our feedback; I had declined this offer at first, but was assured that we would be asked no more than 10 additional questions (and I assumed we could handle all of this on the front stoop).
I’m skipping a few details, but the next evening a man in scrubs showed up with a tablet in hand, claiming he was from the Clovis Allergy Center. In an awkward greeting, I invited him in, and he started the sales pitch, returning to his van to grab the Patriot Home Defense System (aka, vacuum). I remember hearing things like “this is not a vacuum, it’s an air filtration system” and guilt trips about how unhealthy our lifestyle is (which the vacuum could cure), but I zoned out for most of the pitch.
After wasting 30 minutes of our life, we started rushing what he explained as the first half of the demonstration. We had to leave…even if we didn’t, it was time for him to. The salesman whined about not getting credit for the demonstration, yet interestingly enough didn’t have a business card for us to reference in the future. No need to do so, however: when he admitted to the $3,000+ price tag for the vacuum, I assured him we would happily keep our Dyson.
Needless to say we didn’t receive our vacation voucher, though after reading about the encounters of others I’m not surprised (and glad we cut things short). And a simple Google search can’t confirm the existence of the Clovis Allergy Center or Clovis Research Center.
What started to annoy me—besides being deceived and the time wasted, that is—is the guilt trip that Kim and I received for allowing so much dirt into our home, and our lungs. The expense of the vacuum is worth the health benefits, or so the salesman argued. But the credibility of that sales pitch was completely negated by the overweight, out of shape “allergy center” salesman.
Be warned:
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