In 1964, the summer after my third year in college, four buddies and I embarked on the ultimate road trip. We drove from NY to sunny LA and spent the summer in Long Beach. We quickly ran out of money and had to find work. Being very transient and desperate for any type of employment, we landed the hateful job of phone solicitor.
Our hours were from 6 p.m.-10 p.m., Monday through Friday. We would drive to the Pacific Phone Company and sit in a nondescript room with work stations at long tables. Our mission was to sell subscriptions to The LA Times. The hook was that if a person would commit to a one-year subscription, the paper would donate two tickets to a Dodger game to underpriviliged children.
We were instructed to always speak to the man of the house if possible. Maybe the idea of the Dodger's game would appeal more to a man. Or maybe it was that women were more likely to be bombarded with these types of calls all day and would be a much harder sell.
One shift, I called, and a woman answered. I, of course, asked if I could speak to her husband. She politely responded that he would be fine with that, but, unfortunately, he was unavailable as he was out walking the monkey.
To this day, I can't decide whether this was just a polished response that this lady had come up with to blow off solicitors or if he really was walking the monkey. Since this was La-La Land in the early 60s, the latter was certainly a strong possibility.