It's a good day when you win an argument with the guy who picks up your garbage.
The doorbell rings. I open the door.
Sanitation worker: "Now why'd you go and do a fool thing like that?"
Me: "Fool thing like what?"
SW: "Call my boss and tell 'em I didn't pick up your garbage yesterday."
Me: "Well, first of all, I didn't call your boss and, second of all, you didn't pick up my garbage yesterday."
SW: "Well, your cans weren't out there!"
Me: "Yes they were--I rolled 'em out on Wednesday night."
SW: "I swear to God, they weren't there."
Me: "Man, I promise you they were!"
(At this point, I'm expecting fisticuffs!)
SW: "What's your last name, buddy?"
Me: "Nash."
SW: "It ain't Johnson!"
Me: "Nope."
SW: "Sorry, man!"
Me: "No problem."
I pumped both fists in the air.
Right after I closed the door.
Those guys build some muscle lifting that stuff.
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2 comments:
This might have just made my day.
Sure as heck beats fighting with door-to-door missionaries: "Seriously. I'm sold on the God stuff. Please go. You're freaking out my dog."
It helps being 6'5".
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