CHEERLEADER!

Knock, knock, knock! “Who’s at the door, Jasper? It’s probably the Jehovah Witnesses again, or maybe it’s the Mailman. Remember how he gave you a dog treat and tried so hard to be your friend? Or maybe it’s that sweaty Verizon guy again. Let’s see….”

I opened the door. It was a CHEERLEADER! “I’m with Edward Jones, and I’d like to advise you regarding your finances,” she said.

Hmmm…. Since when do financial advisors drum up business door to door in this neighborhood? I’ve lived here 23 years, and I’ve never seen this, but I don’t pretend to understand this place. Well, better to just roll with it. Things have been discombobulated since the Great Recession. And besides, her distinct, nasal Southern California accent is mesmerizing. Certainly the prettiest woman to come here since, maybe, forever.

“Were you a cheerleader in high school or college?” I asked. “Both,” she replied. “Lots of flips.” So we discussed degrees of financial risk and compared notes on health clubs and travel destinations.

When she left, Jasper was sad to see her go. “See, Jasper, there was nothing to worry about. She wasn’t interested in my immortal soul. She’s just interested in all my money.”