If you’re trying to find the best, most degrading, shame-inducing, dignity-stripping, humiliating, manhood-robbing insult for an adult male, look no further for your inspiration:

Sharp rays of sunlight punch through the blinds and stab the desk in front of Bill. It’s been a long morning, and his salesmen haven’t been moving their quota. It’s a tough market, and cars don’t sell themselves. The Ad Man he’s meeting with is already ten minutes late for their 11 o’clock, and Bill is not pleased.

Minutes later, the Ad Man arrives with his team of cronies. They begin with the usual rundown of upcoming layouts and placement. And then the bomb drops.

Ad Man: Listen, Bill, another one of our clients is Pickled Pepper Pizza, and they’re trying to think of some new promotions to bring in business.
Bill: So?
Ad Man: Well, we think that this is a great opportunity to team up with you at Home Ford and get some cross-promotion going.
Bill: Meaning?
Ad Man: We were thinking that maybe you could provide a car for them to give away in exchange for some free advertising in their materials.
Bill: No.
Ad Man: Let’s not be too hasty, Bill. This could really be a great opportunity for you guys and-
Bill: I said no.
Ad Man: Well, let’s talk about this some more. We collected some numbers on the effectiveness of cross-promotion and we think-
Bill: Listen. We sell cars. Not pizza. Pickled Pepper is not Home Ford and Home Ford is not Pickled Pepper Pizza and I don’t want Pickled Pepper to become Home Ford. I’ve said no. Let’s move on. If that’s all you have to talk about, then we’re done here.
Ad Man: Just a second, Bill. You don’t seem to understand the-
Bill: Listen, sweet lips: I don’t give f***ing cars away. You hear that, sugar? I don’t give cars away. End of discussion.


[Note: This story is based on actual events. Names have been changed to protect the innocent and those of the sugary-lipped persuasion.]