I broke up with the Schwan’s man yesterday. Do you have Schwan’s where you live? Of course you do. You must. Just in case you’re an international reader, the Schwan’s man brings frozen food to your door.
We had a Schwan’s rep for eight years I LOVED. I bought the entire line. I mean if he had come in one day and said, “Mary Lisa, got a two for one sale on liver and onions today,” I would have shouted, “AND HOW!!” My home economy is manufacturing based, and it’s been a little tight the last year or so, but I bought Schwan’s with reckless abandon anyway. Just loved my Schwan’s man.
Then he quit. One day Stranger Danger comes to the door. “Where’s Alan?” I asked in a sort of hysterical whisper. “Oh, he quit about a week ago.” I started laughing a crazed laugh. “What?! Hahahahahaha. You’re kidding right? RIGHT?! He didn’t even say good-bye!!!!!!”
No, as it turned out, he wasn’t. My Schwan’s man had been replaced by New Guy. I just never took to New Guy. I started hiding from him, or I’d meet him halfway down the sidewalk, “Just a bag of chicken nuggets today. No need for you to come anywhere near the house or to try and make conversation with me.”
New Guy though he was funnier than he was. New Guy thought he was smarter than he was. New Guy didn’t eat the product. A couple of weeks ago I asked him about a certain flavor of ice cream. He answered (and this is a direct quote), “I don’t know. Ask my kids. I don’t eat this stuff.”
Friends and loved ones, maybe I come from a small town. Maybe I worked in my small family business. Maybe I don’t understand how the real world works, but it seems to me if you sell food door to door, you should know what it tastes like or at the very least fake that you do.
So that was the last straw. I called the very friendly customer service line and told the man (are all Schwan’s employees male?) that for financial reasons I no longer wished to receive service.
But you and I know the truth. It just wasn’t working out between us.