Do I look like I cook dinner?

Totally random day. A door-to-door pot salesman found his way into our office. And not the “fun” kind of pot. The kind I cook Dave cooks my dinner in. He interrupted our meeting and starting giving us a sales pitch for his R8500 set of pots (that’s roughly 1000 USD for those of you who earn real money and don’t have to live off gruel and Mopani worms, like me).

SALESPERSON: “These pots cannot break. If you drop them on the tiles, the tile will break, but not the pot.”

ESSIE: “I don’t want my tiles to break.”

SALESPERSON: “Yes, but the pot...”

ESSIE: “No, seriously. Retiling a kitchen floor is like ten times more expensive than buying a new pot. If I had to choose between the tiles, and your pot, I want the pot to lose.”

SALESPERSON: “Well, it won’t really shatter your tiles...”

ESSIE: “How does it hold up against gunfire? Because I mainly use my pots to fashion makeshift armour for myself. Or to use as drums, as a means of communication. And sometimes for curry."

SALESPERSON: “Um. The pots aren’t really...that...”

ESSIE: “So, basically...you lied to me.”

SALESPERSON: “No, it’s just a figure of speech.”

ESSIE: “I’ve never heard that figure of speech. And I have, like, a Masters’ Degree in Language.”

SALESPERSON: “Linguistics?”

ESSIE: “Whatever. I don’t want your pots.”

SALESPERSON: “You can stack the pots in a tower and cook meat, rice and vegetables all at once.”

ESSIE (thinking): “OK. That’s pretty badass.”

I didn't buy them though. I lost all my money buying magic beans furniture and now am trying to save for a teacup pig that I saw on TV and immediatly and without forethought decided I MUST purchase.