The boy racer and the money

by John Passmore

My neighbour has one of those electric scooters old people use to take out their anger on the rest of us. He let me ride it once and ever since I’ve harboured the sort of fascination for the little beats that other people reserve for Harley Davidsons.

So I was always going to stop and talk to the salesman while he smoked his cigarette outside the shop – and then, of course, I produced my Win-a-Mini form. At the moment I’m finding the quickest way of talking to six people a day is to take my clipboard out into the street.

So we filled in the form, we chatted and then we went round to the back of the shop for a cup of tea so I could take him through the Money Presentation and now all we have to do is fix up a time when I can talk to him and his wife together. And that was one.

Then a woman pulled up in a car with writing all down the side advertising the fact that she would do you an energy survey. We seemed made for each other and I filled in her details – I made sure I did that in case I never saw her again after she went into the letting agent’s office.

While she was in there, another woman on her way to the shops wanted to win a Mini and I’m going to call her husband – and then there was a man whose church was having trouble with the Utility Warehouse over their bills. Was their distributor helping, I wanted to know.

“Not at all,” said the disgruntled customer. “I think he’s moved away.”

So I volunteered to sort it out for them. It will probably take just a couple of phone calls – and I’ll have the entire congregation eating out of my hand!

The energy survey woman emerged from the letting agents.

“Step into my office,” I invited her, holding open the door of the Mini. And we sat there while I took her through the money presentation. But no, she was precluded from recommending any particular company to her clients. However she was moving house (which is where the letting agent came in) and I’m calling her on July 1st to set up her services.

And that was four, so I thought I had better go and see the letting agent myself – my favourite thing, as it turns out: It’s a no-brainer for them. Sure enough the agent wants to come to the COP on Tuesday. And that was five.

And who was number six? Well I had that one all arranged already: A referral that had turned into an appointment by proxy – one of those lovely moments when someone calls you up and says: “You don’t know me but so-and-so says I’ve got to talk to you about making money. Can you come round on Wednesday?”

Job done, thank you very much.