Letters to the Editor

Problem Pages

True Stories **
** At least our editor swears that they're true. But he's a lying toerag.

 

Dear Pauline ......

I started my new job last week as a short term car insurance salesman. The position is one of great honour and I take every potential client seriously. I knew when I took the job that I would have to be smart in order to survive. The field is filled with superstar salespeople of the highest calibre. When I was growing up, a child either wanted to be the Prime Minister, a doctor or a short term car insurance salesman. I hit the jackpot.

One of the most important aspects of being a short term car insurance salesman is focusing on a particular demographic and creating a monopoly of sorts within the chosen group. I chose to concentrate on strippers as my clientele of choice. Strippers are keenly aware of the benefits I have to offer and appreciate the attractive pricing I provide them.

Most people can’t fathom having the work ethic necessary to sit in strip clubs, day after day, night after night. It’s true that the long hours and hard work can be tough on anyone, but I have a routine that allows me to press on long after others would have faded. I’m not going to get into details of my routine, but it involves vodka, non-prescription drugs and lap dances.

Tina, one of my first clients, has referred a lot of her girlfriends to me for their car insurance needs and I’m eternally grateful for her help. It’s girls like Tina that make my job so fulfilling. Customers know her as Ms. DDDD, but that really doesn’t do her justice. She’s more than just a large cup size. She also has a bottom you could set a suitcase on.

After getting up in the morning, I go through a routine that gets me ready for an exciting, sales-filled day. I start with a cup of strong coffee, eat a bacon butty and swallow several Percocet. I then meditate until the pills kick in and I’m off to work. My first stop is usually the Pink Lady, located just off the High Street, near the big white church. The doorman knows me and usually lets me in without a cover charge. I always hand him my card and ask him if he is need of short term car insurance. He never answers me; he just grunts and pushes me through the door.

I usually order a “Pole Dancers Special” which consists of vodka, gin, rum and buttermilk. I don’t know how it got its name, but it does make me want to pole dance. The bouncer never lets me get on stage though, so I go through my sales brochures and check the newest rates. I’m not allowed to solicit customers, so I concentrate all my attention on the naked girls performing on stage. After their dance set, I pay them for a lap dance. While they wiggle around, I tell them the benefits of short term car insurance.