Jobs I will never do

Walking down the street today, hailed by someone looking vaguely familiar, so I walked over. “Is there a special women in your life?” she asked. “Does she like being pampered?” So I walked away again.

It’s not that I don’t have a special woman in my life, or even that she doesn’t like being pampered. It’s the sheer brazen cheek of assuming that I’ll trust a random (albeit vaguely familiar) stranger to help me pamper her.

People collecting for charity on the street, that I can cope with. But people trying to flog you something, especially something that really you should be doing yourself (pamper, vt: to indulge to excess) is just rude. If I ever descend to that level, please, just shoot me.

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