Can you get the flu in the summer?

Reason #4 why your life is better than mine.

Years ago when I graduated college, I got my first real job. I was an account manager for the rent-to-own company Colortyme. For those of you who don't know what an account manager is, it basically means "deliver man" only in dress shoes and a tie. Looking back now, not exactly hitting the big time with the first job. Like any job it had is good moments and of course it bad ones. This is the story of one of the bad ones.

Part of the job description included collections and repossessions. On this particular day, I was charged with the task of repoing a stero system from a nice, but very smelly gentleman. It was mid-July, over 100 degrees and I am wearing a shirt and tie. I knocked on the door and was allowed in to pack up the stereo. The customer did not just smell bad, he was disgusting in general. I noticed that there was dog crap on the couch cushions. Let me repeat that ON THE COUCH CUSHIONS. Ewww! I packed up the stereo and headed for the van as quick as I could. As I was putting the last speaker in the van, Mr. Smelly ran out of the house waving a wad of cash he found in his bedroom. He wanted to pay for the stereo.

As I was writing a receipt for his payment, he got a little bit ahead of himself and reached for the stereo, which was still in the van. In his excitement to grab his stuff he reached across me to get to it. Of course a man of his calibre did not have on a shirt with sleeves. He managed to jam his sticky, sweaty, hairy armpit in my face. And when I say in my face, I mean his pit hairs were tickling my lips and nose. The stench was so foul that I immediately turned away from the van and blew chunks in his yard. Unaware of his own stink, or "nose deaf" as I have heard it referred to, he asked me if I was okay. To which I replied that "I was coming down with the flu". The genius's response was that he never heard of anyone getting the flu in the summer.

I managed to settle myself and started to unpack his stereo, when his dog came running out of the house toward the van. You guessed it. The dog ate my puke. At that point I had enough and told him to unpack it himself and I got in the van and waited for him to get his shit so I could leave.

So, in addition to being crapped on, I have been subjected to the worst smell you can imagine in addition to the sight of an animal eating my vomit. I would dare say that your life is definitely better than mine.