We ended up with some fluoro orange kerb numbers just before Christmas. It symbolises my complete lack of backbone when it comes to hawkers.
I was at home one afternoon with the boys when we answered the door to a guy who was hawking his kerb painting services.
Painting services equals spray painting a stencil of your house number on the kerb in reflective paint...to make it is easy to identify your house at night.
The kerb number guy rattled off his well-rehearsed spiel about how kerb numbers saved his son's life when the kid had a life-threatening illness and emergency services nearly missed their home. It was a rather melodramatic tale where he promised himself that no child should ever be in his son's situation.
And then we got the 'down-on-my-luck' story about how hard it was to make a living in these hard financial times...needless to say the sob stories were coming thick and fast...and he wasn't going to take no for an answer. He was determined to make a sale.
My standard excuse of not having cash on me didn't work either (and it was actually true in this situation). He told me that I could go to the nearest ATM to get the money out, as he was prepared to wait. I really wanted to tell him to bugger off at this stage because he was so freakin' Pushy. With a capital P.
He needed to go to Charm School...cute and charming is always a winner.
In the end it was just easier to scrounge $30 change from our coin jar to get rid of him...hence the lack of backbone.
Moral of the story: if you knock on my door with a sob story, I'll probably give you coins from my small change jar!
At least the numbers are in my favourite fluoro colour...
I was at home one afternoon with the boys when we answered the door to a guy who was hawking his kerb painting services.
Painting services equals spray painting a stencil of your house number on the kerb in reflective paint...to make it is easy to identify your house at night.
The kerb number guy rattled off his well-rehearsed spiel about how kerb numbers saved his son's life when the kid had a life-threatening illness and emergency services nearly missed their home. It was a rather melodramatic tale where he promised himself that no child should ever be in his son's situation.
And then we got the 'down-on-my-luck' story about how hard it was to make a living in these hard financial times...needless to say the sob stories were coming thick and fast...and he wasn't going to take no for an answer. He was determined to make a sale.
My standard excuse of not having cash on me didn't work either (and it was actually true in this situation). He told me that I could go to the nearest ATM to get the money out, as he was prepared to wait. I really wanted to tell him to bugger off at this stage because he was so freakin' Pushy. With a capital P.
He needed to go to Charm School...cute and charming is always a winner.
In the end it was just easier to scrounge $30 change from our coin jar to get rid of him...hence the lack of backbone.
Moral of the story: if you knock on my door with a sob story, I'll probably give you coins from my small change jar!
At least the numbers are in my favourite fluoro colour...









