I sort of am.
I’m a sucker for a sale.Ã‚Â I married a salesman afterall.
My poor roommates in Maryland had to suffer my inability to say no to Mormons and anyone else who came to the door.Ã‚Â
Upon opening the door, had I made instantaneous identification of person as salesman or preacher and slammed the door, my roommates might have been spared.
But at the time I also had a selfish streak running through me and the minute the guy at the door started yapping, my mind created an image including his wife, four starving kids and elderly parents he was fending for and I’d think “I can’t ask this guy to leave,” my heart would seize and instead of hardening it and sending him on his religious or magazine proffering way, I’d ask him to wait a moment.
Then I’d tell one of my roommates the door was for them.Ã‚Â Apparently,Ã‚Â the image of N. being pissed at me forÃ‚Â seven hours didn’t pop into my mind as readily as the one of the preacher’s family.
To this day, if I don’t hang up on telemarketers within the first half a second of the call, I have to listen to at least half their spiel and then make up a fib about why I have to go.Ã‚Â I have assumed alternate identities on the phone, too.Ã‚Â
“Is Mrs. Shoop there?”
“When’s the best time to reach her?”
“I dunno, I’m just the babysitter, man.”
What is my problemo?
This all brings me to two current tv advertisements.Ã‚Â One’s for LifeAlert (the new name for the device that came to fame with the “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up,” ads). And the second is for LipitorÃ‚Â which isÃ‚Â peddled by Robert Jarvik, creator of the first artificial heart.
Let me say, I’m sort of interested in the LifeAlert device.Ã‚Â I’m paranoid about fire and would love to have that thing around my neck at night to have my trusty firemen just a finger’s touch away.Ã‚Â But of course, one of the kids would accidentally set it off and we’d be on the black list at the firehouse and that’s no list to be on, I’m sure.
The device is a good product, definately worth it for elderly people or anyone with mobility issues, I’d imagine.Ã‚Â The darned thing sells itself, far as I can tell.
But at the end of the ad, they plop C. Everett Koop, sitting at a desk, looking like colonel Sanders, telling me to buy it.Ã‚Â Very disjointed, not a great pitch-man, but like I said, the item sells itself.
Then there’s this Robert Jarvik character and his Lipitor ads.Ã‚Â My goodness, he has soft gentle eyes, a soothing voice, and he created an artificial heart for land sakes.Ã‚Â He’s mesmerizing.Ã‚Â Makes me want to dial up my doctor just to check if maybe I’m not in need of the Lipitor.Ã‚Â I mean, it’s possible.Ã‚Â Statins have been recommended for MS sufferers in some circles.Ã‚Â And Robert Jarvik is making me call.Ã‚Â He is.Ã‚Â Maybe I could use an artificial heart while I’m at it.
But I did some research on him in preparing for this post and it turns out he’s not done anything impressive.Ã‚Â Yes, he plunked a plastic heart into the chest cavities of two men or so, but it never worked and there’s a community of unimpressed Docs, I guess, this article seemed to indicate.
My point is, it doesn’t really matter.Ã‚Â Ã‚Â Jarvik has pizazz and the sales of Lipitor show it.Ã‚Â Poor, C. Everett has the charm of an arm chair and LifeAlert is selling itself.Ã‚Â I suppose you just need one or the other to be good–the pitchman or the product.Ã‚Â Or, you simply need to corner me, just long enough for your family tree to set down roots in my head.Ã‚Â Then you’ve got your sale.