Don’t come to my door.
I was making dinner tonight with a little fresh air wafting in through the screen door. It wasn’t particularly warm, but the light breeze was refreshing. The ringing doorbell was not. Especially since it was accompanied by knocking. What the fuck? Pick one. Better yet, pick none.
Had the door been closed, I would have pretended I wasn’t home and waited for them to give up. Who the hell knows how long that would have taken… I’ll bet the ringing and knocking would have continued for quite some time. But stupid me wanted fresh air… so the door was open… and I had to deal with it.
Two guys… one did all the talking… the other one just stood there, a few feet back. They wanted to give me a free estimate on roofing and siding.
First of all, our roof is new. Did they even fucking look up? I don’t need a roof.
Second, if I were in the market for a new roof or new siding, I’d call someone. Oh but he wasn’t giving up. He just kept talking. Asking for my name… my husband’s name… No.
We’re not planning on doing any work on the house.
“It’s just a free estimate. It’s guaranteed even if you don’t have the work done now.”
I don’t give a fuck. I don’t deal with this stuff anyway and my husband’s at work.
“When will he be home? We can come back.”
Are you fucking serious? Take a goddamn hint.
I don’t know when he’ll be home. It varies.
“Can I get a number where I can reach you?”
No. I’m not giving you a number. We’re not going to have any work done.
“It’s just for a free estimate.”
I don’t need an estimate. We’re not going to have any work done. Ugh… then I had to get into the unemployed speech… I got laid off, we have no extra money. It will be years before we even think about any major projects.
OMG… I could not get these fuckheads to leave.
My daughter… oh, the mouth on her has its benefits. “Mooooooooommm?”
I have to go. Door closed.
And don’t come back, dammit!
I’m making dinner. I have kids. I’m fucking busy. And I’m not going to decide to have major work done because some pushy asshat shows up at my door uninvited and unwelcome.
Do these fuckers really get any business by harassing people this way? Even if I needed the exact service they were selling, I’d get it somewhere else… from someone who didn’t come to my door and intrude on my evening. I cannot possibly be the only one who wants to tell them to leave me the hell alone.
And get the fuck off my lawn.
©2017 what sandra thinks