- Joined
- 17 Nov 2003
- Posts
- 36,746
- Location
- Southampton, UK
While sharing a student house with 3 other people, my flatmate answers the door, speaks to someone for a bit, and lets them in, she's quite hot. Then she announces that if I drink just one less pint a week, then children in Africa won't starve. She then asks if I'd like to take part, how could I refuse.
But for some reason she doesn't go away at this point, she stays and talks more. It quickly becomes apparent that she lied. Not only do I have to drink one less pint a week, but I have to give the money that I would have spend on that pint to a charity. Not wanting to seem stupid, I pull out my debit card, and then whilst pretending to read it, I make up an account number. Finally she leaves. My flatmate now asks me when I'm going to cancel the direct debit. "Didn't give her my real account number!", we all laugh, I then forbid him from ever letting a charity into the house again, and I tear up the papers and throw them in the kitchen bin.
But then there's a knock on the door again. A quick glance through the peep-hole reveals that it's her. I open the door, it seems they set up the direct debit on your doorstep after they leave your house. ****! She wants to check the details. I pull the debit card back out of my wallet, and suddenly realise I can remember the fake account number I gave (I know my talent for remembering useless numbers would come in handy one day). She confirms it's the number I gave before, then asks to check the card herself. At this point I just want her to go away, so I say something like "No offence, but I don't give my card out to strangers, I know you're wearing your ID round your neck, and there's a number I can call, but I'm just not a very trusting person, it's nothing against you. I'll sign up online, there was a web address on the leaflet you gave me", now I'm starting to feel bad.
But it's not over yet, she moans that these direct debit forms aren't cheap, and asks for the leaflets back. "Erm, I sort of threw them in the bin." (now I'm really cringing inside). "Well can you go fish them out of the bin?" (oh god) "Erm, I sort of ripped them all in 2."
She was not happy...
But for some reason she doesn't go away at this point, she stays and talks more. It quickly becomes apparent that she lied. Not only do I have to drink one less pint a week, but I have to give the money that I would have spend on that pint to a charity. Not wanting to seem stupid, I pull out my debit card, and then whilst pretending to read it, I make up an account number. Finally she leaves. My flatmate now asks me when I'm going to cancel the direct debit. "Didn't give her my real account number!", we all laugh, I then forbid him from ever letting a charity into the house again, and I tear up the papers and throw them in the kitchen bin.
But then there's a knock on the door again. A quick glance through the peep-hole reveals that it's her. I open the door, it seems they set up the direct debit on your doorstep after they leave your house. ****! She wants to check the details. I pull the debit card back out of my wallet, and suddenly realise I can remember the fake account number I gave (I know my talent for remembering useless numbers would come in handy one day). She confirms it's the number I gave before, then asks to check the card herself. At this point I just want her to go away, so I say something like "No offence, but I don't give my card out to strangers, I know you're wearing your ID round your neck, and there's a number I can call, but I'm just not a very trusting person, it's nothing against you. I'll sign up online, there was a web address on the leaflet you gave me", now I'm starting to feel bad.
But it's not over yet, she moans that these direct debit forms aren't cheap, and asks for the leaflets back. "Erm, I sort of threw them in the bin." (now I'm really cringing inside). "Well can you go fish them out of the bin?" (oh god) "Erm, I sort of ripped them all in 2."
She was not happy...
