I take my privacy seriously.
So when a salesman mercilessly invaded it last Saturday, I stiffened into steel and he left without offering pleasantries, enraged and no doubt perplexed that his pitch had failed to bag the next sucker.
It all started when the missus and I went on a home improvement expedition a few weeks back.
Off to the Tulsa Fairgrounds we went to a show where all sorts of upgrades for yard and manor were being advertised.
We made small talk, ducked in and out of displays and picked up a handful of pamphlets before exiting.
A few days later, I receive a call from a woman asking when that gutter company’s sales rep could come by my house.
“I drive about 25 minutes to work. Do I have to be there?” I say.
“Yes, for liability reasons. He may be getting up on a ladder and should he fall, we like for somebody to be there.”
I’d never heard of such a thing but nonetheless agree to a 11 a.m. Saturday appointment.
Billy, as I will refer to him here, arrives 30 minutes late on the scheduled day, and I meet him by the birch tree in the front yard.
“Well, just on first inspection, I can see that your gutters are in pretty good shape,” Billy says.
“Super. Look around. Do what you have to do for your estimate and I’ll be inside if you need me.”
“Oh, no. After this, I’ll need to sit down with you and your wife to talk about her product,” Billy says.
“That’s not necessary. My wife is inside working and we weren’t prepared for something like this. I’ll give you a few minutes with me in the front room.”
Tape measure and ruler and clipboard in hand, the visitor makes his way around the house, returning to the front to ring the doorbell.
We take seats on the couch. The clock says 12:10 p.m. But I’m half-past furious because my normal lunch is at 11 and I’m staring at a stranger.
Before him is a thick book with laminated pages that he flips only after devoting the allotted time to each.
“Did you know that we’re the only company in the country with this guarantee? Only Acme (again a substituted name) has this kind of filter,” he says.
I realize that he is selling gutter covers and not gutters, as I previously thought.
“Am I boring you?” Billy says. I lie. He continues.
Ultimately, he arrives at a price, which he systematically drops several times to impress me.
“What do you think?” he says.
“I’d like to think about it.”
“What’s there to think about?”
“I don’t make any decisions like this in an instant.”
He gives me a couple days to make up my mind. I say I need more.
Perturbed, Billy closes his book, packs his gear and heads toward the door, reluctantly handing me the piece of paper on which he had scribbled an estimate. I won’t be calling back.
Billy made sure of that.
Here We Go 