Just learn to say NO I CAN’T - the first day
Standing quietly on a sunny corner of the High Street handing out my quota of leaflets to unsuspecting Saturday shoppers I find that I have given one to Lovely Fur Coat Friend. I immediately wonder whether she has seen through my disguise of beret and cheap handbag only to realise she has. Kick myself mentally for not making more of an effort with my appearance and go to my lobes to check whether I am wearing earrings – to distract from my make up free face. No, but sigh of satisfaction, I am wearing my huge Posh-style sunglasses which really only expose the bottom of my cheeks (just) and mouth. She asks why I am there, helping out, when I could be lying in bed – having just pointed out that SHE has come all the way from Venice on foot. “Simple really”, I say, “I’m just hopeless at saying NO”. “There are things you can do for that”, she tells me knowingly as she disappears on her journey back to Italy. I wonder whether this involves a bridge-playing week at an Austrian spa. Think seriously about checking myself in.
While in my reverie am spotted by Mr Big on a bicycle. Try to busy myself with leaflets so that it doesn’t look as if I am just standing on a street corner waiting to be picked up by passing trade. I tell him that I meant to call about the sponsored cycle ride he is organising, in order to tell him that I won’t be doing it. I explain that I am very worried about how I would go about collecting one million pounds for his cause from my efforts. Reassuringly, he tells me that I don’t have to collect one million pounds. I sigh with relief.
“No”, he explains “there are 100 riders who will collect one million pounds”. Gosh, I think, he should let the government, or better still the opposition know that he has one hundred people who can collect one million pounds each just by cycling a few miles. The country will soon be out of difficulty. I enquire about who these people are. It transpires that they are the Beautiful People, many of whom live in the Wood. Ahh I think, such shame I am a town person as it would be so nice to be surrounded by such successful and beautiful creatures. “So can they really EACH collect one million?” I ask. “No, between the 100 riders they will collect AT LEAST one million pounds”. I do the maths. One million divided by one hundred is ten thousand. “So, you expect each rider to bring in 10 grand?” I hoot. “Absolutely”, he says. “Well, I don’t think I can do that”, I say, “I am a poor housewife, doing public service work part time, and a day’s fee, which once met the cost of an it-bag now only meets the cost of half a bag, or a wallet, because of inflation (and the popularity of it-bags). I can’t possibly raise that sort of money and so I won’t join you”.
He explains to me in simple terms that it would only take 10,000 people giving me £1 each to meet the target. I try to tell him that I don’t know 10,000 people. “Or 1,000 people could each give you £10”. I try to explain that I don’t know 1,000 people. Mr Big looks incredulous. “Honestly”, I insist, “I really don’t think I know 1,000 people”. He looks sad for me. “What about 100 people?” I accept that I probably know 100 people but most are in couples and so I really only know 50 units. He catches onto the 50 “£50 from two hundred people or £200 from fifty people. You can do it!” “No I can’t” I say. I know no-one who would give me that much money.
“Don’t worry” he says authoritatively “contributions will snow-ball – trust me, but in case they don’t can you find someone to share your bed on the two overnights, as well as someone to share your meals and refreshments?” Before I have the chance to say “No”, he shouts “I won’t hear any more about it, you are part of the team”.
There seems to be nothing more to say on the money front, when I start again he blocks his ears. “Ok, ok”, I mouth and he uncovers his ears “I have another concern – I’m not sure that I can still ride a bike”. “No problem” he says “come with me now and you can try my wife's bike as she has just bought one. She won’t mind at all”. I’m sure she won’t mind if she never sees the wretched bike again, I mutter through gritted teeth. “But I have my quota of leaflets to give out” I remind him “No you don’t have to do that” he tells me “just hand them in and walk home with me”. Worryingly, he tells me and I obey automatically.
Before Mr Big came I had failed to say NO to the leafleting, and didn't feel I could say NO to not finishing it, and I had said, NO, to the cycle ride; yet here I was giving up the leafleting and doing the bike ride. Not quite sure how any of this happened. I think I will have to keep my wits about me with Mr Big as I sense he may be a bit of a hypnotist.
Standing quietly on a sunny corner of the High Street handing out my quota of leaflets to unsuspecting Saturday shoppers I find that I have given one to Lovely Fur Coat Friend. I immediately wonder whether she has seen through my disguise of beret and cheap handbag only to realise she has. Kick myself mentally for not making more of an effort with my appearance and go to my lobes to check whether I am wearing earrings – to distract from my make up free face. No, but sigh of satisfaction, I am wearing my huge Posh-style sunglasses which really only expose the bottom of my cheeks (just) and mouth. She asks why I am there, helping out, when I could be lying in bed – having just pointed out that SHE has come all the way from Venice on foot. “Simple really”, I say, “I’m just hopeless at saying NO”. “There are things you can do for that”, she tells me knowingly as she disappears on her journey back to Italy. I wonder whether this involves a bridge-playing week at an Austrian spa. Think seriously about checking myself in.
While in my reverie am spotted by Mr Big on a bicycle. Try to busy myself with leaflets so that it doesn’t look as if I am just standing on a street corner waiting to be picked up by passing trade. I tell him that I meant to call about the sponsored cycle ride he is organising, in order to tell him that I won’t be doing it. I explain that I am very worried about how I would go about collecting one million pounds for his cause from my efforts. Reassuringly, he tells me that I don’t have to collect one million pounds. I sigh with relief.
“No”, he explains “there are 100 riders who will collect one million pounds”. Gosh, I think, he should let the government, or better still the opposition know that he has one hundred people who can collect one million pounds each just by cycling a few miles. The country will soon be out of difficulty. I enquire about who these people are. It transpires that they are the Beautiful People, many of whom live in the Wood. Ahh I think, such shame I am a town person as it would be so nice to be surrounded by such successful and beautiful creatures. “So can they really EACH collect one million?” I ask. “No, between the 100 riders they will collect AT LEAST one million pounds”. I do the maths. One million divided by one hundred is ten thousand. “So, you expect each rider to bring in 10 grand?” I hoot. “Absolutely”, he says. “Well, I don’t think I can do that”, I say, “I am a poor housewife, doing public service work part time, and a day’s fee, which once met the cost of an it-bag now only meets the cost of half a bag, or a wallet, because of inflation (and the popularity of it-bags). I can’t possibly raise that sort of money and so I won’t join you”.
He explains to me in simple terms that it would only take 10,000 people giving me £1 each to meet the target. I try to tell him that I don’t know 10,000 people. “Or 1,000 people could each give you £10”. I try to explain that I don’t know 1,000 people. Mr Big looks incredulous. “Honestly”, I insist, “I really don’t think I know 1,000 people”. He looks sad for me. “What about 100 people?” I accept that I probably know 100 people but most are in couples and so I really only know 50 units. He catches onto the 50 “£50 from two hundred people or £200 from fifty people. You can do it!” “No I can’t” I say. I know no-one who would give me that much money.
“Don’t worry” he says authoritatively “contributions will snow-ball – trust me, but in case they don’t can you find someone to share your bed on the two overnights, as well as someone to share your meals and refreshments?” Before I have the chance to say “No”, he shouts “I won’t hear any more about it, you are part of the team”.
There seems to be nothing more to say on the money front, when I start again he blocks his ears. “Ok, ok”, I mouth and he uncovers his ears “I have another concern – I’m not sure that I can still ride a bike”. “No problem” he says “come with me now and you can try my wife's bike as she has just bought one. She won’t mind at all”. I’m sure she won’t mind if she never sees the wretched bike again, I mutter through gritted teeth. “But I have my quota of leaflets to give out” I remind him “No you don’t have to do that” he tells me “just hand them in and walk home with me”. Worryingly, he tells me and I obey automatically.
Before Mr Big came I had failed to say NO to the leafleting, and didn't feel I could say NO to not finishing it, and I had said, NO, to the cycle ride; yet here I was giving up the leafleting and doing the bike ride. Not quite sure how any of this happened. I think I will have to keep my wits about me with Mr Big as I sense he may be a bit of a hypnotist.
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