The other day, while my husband was away to Boy Scouts camp and I sat around in his shirt and pajamas with dirty hair piled on top of my head, a man knocked on my door.
After peeping through the peep hole and seeing a disheveled looking man slowly walking away, I cracked open the door and slipped my head out to ask if he needed anything.
His question: Do you like steak?
Of course, I thought to myself, I love steak.
Him: Would you like to buy some?
Being the naively-too-nice person I am, I asked him what kind of steak.
Him: Let me show you.
The disheveled man, complete with sun-leathered skin and holes in his grungy off-white polo shirt, proceeded to enter my house with boxes of frozen steaks. And then, he shut the door behind him.
A box of said steak.
So there I stood in my pajamas in my tiny little house, in my tiny little entry way and kitchen, alone with a grungy, strange man and piles of frozen steak.
Of course, he showed me all the frozen steaks, told me all about them and all the different cuts. Then he wanted me to give him $150 for said steaks.
I told him I really wasn't interested and maybe he could come back later when my husband was home because after all, he was the steak connoisseur. The man told me he wouldn't come back because I was the one that bought the groceries.
I tried a different tactic, telling him I simply couldn't afford it and I wasn't interested. He told me no, and asked me how much I could afford. I said not much. He asked, "50?" I said no. I told him I wasn't interested again, and he offered $25 for four t-bone steaks.
Truth be told, I still wasn't interested, but this man was creepy and the look on his face said something along the lines of "Buy my frozen steak or else..." So for the sake of having the man out of my house, I bought $27 dollars of said steak.
But next time, when a man comes to my door and asks if I like steak, the answer will most definitely be a resounding, "I'm a vegetarian!"