Weeding out the bad ones

One of my jobs as a SAHM is to meet with all repair personnel and company employees who arrive to give us estimates regarding repair and/or new products. It is a job I don't like because it usually means a lot of technical jargon that makes my eyes roll back into my head and hurts my brain. (The terminology, not that my eyes actually touch my brain). But, being in charge, I have to weed the bad ones from the good ones, and I do this with a little humor that amuses me. If they can handle me and my smart mouth, I figure they can handle the job.

A few weeks ago, during a routine cleaning of the eaves, my husband discovered that the area over our bedroom needed some work--the same place we lost a shingle during the hurricane I recently blogged about from my archives. (Whoa. I don't even let myself think about what kind of power I obviously have in seeing the future)

Immediately, because it is one of those items on his lists to replace, he figured it was time for a new roof. The man has worried about the roof, along with our air conditioner, for the last few years because "it is time." For a man who doesn't believe in expiration dates on food items, he is certainly obsessed with it in regards to other products.

He lined up roofing companies to give an estimate for a repair job on the shingle issue and an estimate for a new roof. He gave me a heads up with the first company and told me he was planning on being home to meet with them, but just in case... 

Knowing my husband well, I made sure to be at home when the two guys showed up early. One guy looked about twenty. The other guy looked like a homeless man who'd been sitting all day on a street corner, complete with missing teeth and a scruffy beard. They were polar opposites, and the ragged man let the clean-cut college-aged kid do the talking.

Kid: "Hi, Mrs. B***?"

People never get my name right. I don't blame them. It is spelled like one word but is pronounced like another, so I'm used to it. That doesn't mean that it doesn't annoy me, and I count this as one of my tests.  

Me: "Who?"

Kid: "Oh, wait. I thought this was the B*** residence. Let me check my paperwork."

Me: "No, I'm just kidding you. But has that ever happened to you? You know, where you put a roof on the wrong house? That happened once to someone I knew. She came home to find people on her house, tearing off her shingles. Turned out they were on the wrong street. They were supposed to be on Michigan Rd. and instead were on Michigan Blvd. She had a hell of a time getting that fixed."

Kid: "Uh, so, you are, or aren't, Mrs. B***?"

Me: "Who?"

The scruffy guy, currently petting my dog who was sniffing the hell out of his pant legs, burst out laughing.

Kid: "Wait. I'm confused."

Him: "She's messing with you."

Me: "Sorry about that. I thought I'd kill some time while we wait for my husband to get home."

Kid: "Oh, well, I've never put a roof on the wrong house."

Me: "Have you ever fallen off a roof?"

Kid: "I fell off one last week."

Me: "Seriously? How did that happen? You weren't watching where you were going?"

Kid: "Nah. We were throwing roofing materials into the dumpster, and I had one end of this big sheet and forgot to let go as we tossed it. It wasn't a high roof. I landed on my feet."

Me: "You're not very bright, are you, holding on when tossing things into a dumpster?"

His companion burst out laughing again, and I apologized to the kid and told him I was joking. By then, my husband had pulled up, and he took over. I reminded them all not to fall off the roof and left things to the hubby. The two men agreed our roof looked good for "another two or three years" and gave an estimate for fixing the area above our bedroom instead.

Roofing company #2 showed up when I was gone but left tons of brochures, samples of tiles, and an estimate inside my front door. My husband was confused because apparently he'd had a conversation with the guy earlier that day and was told the company wouldn't be in the area today. I nodded, acted interested, and chalked it up to my husband's confusion. While at work, he has a hard time focusing on personal matters via telephone.

The next day, what I thought was roofing company #3, showed up. It was late in the day, and the gentleman, dressed in a company shirt and long pants, looked like a clean-cut, all-American white male. 

Man: "Good morning, Mrs. B***?"

Me: "Morning? It's five o'clock. You should be having a cocktail, not climbing around on roofs."

Man: "Sorry about that. Are you Mrs. B***?"

Me: "Who?"

Man: "B***? This is the B*** residence, isn't it? I have (gives address)."

Me: "Yep. I was just kidding around. It's pronounced B***."

Man: "Sorry about that. Tom said you wanted an estimate on a new roof?"

Me: "Tom Who?"

Man: "What?"

Me: "Never mind. Just kidding again. Sure, go ahead. Give me an estimate. Don't fall off the roof, though."

Man: "I won't, but just so you know, we are a fully insured company. Insured and bonded."

He disappeared upstairs and returned about ten minutes later.

Man: "Yeah. Um. I think I've been here before."

Me: "Oh, yeah? We didn't have an affair, did we?" (Okay, maybe I didn't say that, but I sure as heck thought it).

Me: "Okay."

Man: "Was I here? Does Tom want an estimate?"

Me: "I've given up long ago wondering what Tom wants, but if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say yes, if the man called you to come out to look at our roof, he wanted an estimate."

Man: "Well, you definitely need a new roof. This one is shot. And that area over there is bad. Do you know what kind of tile you want? Because I can give you some samples. Do you want blah, blah..." He began spouting out tile sample names that I didn't retain.

Me: "I think you already did that."

Man: "I did?"

Me: "When you were here yesterday? Someone left tons of samples and brochures inside my front door. I'm not sure of the company, but you just said you've been here before."

Man: "I did? Was that this house?"

Me: "You've fallen off a roof recently, haven't you? Like the last guy?"

Man: "Oh, no, ma'am, but if I did, you wouldn't have to worry about that because we are completely insured."

My husband was not amused when I told him that story. He ranted and raved about the guy being an idiot while I nodded and mentioned that I wasn't too keen on the guy myself, although he was fully insured, or so he said. I figured that still needed to be investigated. 

Roofing company #3 finally showed up the following evening after five--one guy, who looked about fifteen years old, but he was GOOD LOOKING. I cut him some slack because of that. Maybe too much. I mean, what's good for the goose...

Cutie: "Hi there. Is this the B*** residence? You wanted an estimate on a new roof?"

Me: "It's pronounced B***, and yes, we do."

Cutie: "My bad. Sorry about that. I'll remember that from now on."

Me: "I'm going to hold you to that." Inside my head: "Or, hold you tight." (Hey, stop judging me. I am writing a romance novel. It's hard to turn that crap off).

Cutie: "I'm just going to go up on the roof and do some measuring, and then I'll write up the estimate if that's alright."

Me: "It's alright with me. I'm curious to hear your opinion. We've had some companies tell us the roof is good for another five years."

Cutie: "Well, I'll take a look and let you know."

He disappeared and clomped around on our roof. He had a giant step for a tiny guy as he tromped from one end of my house to the other leaving my dog barking like crazy. He finally rang my bell (no pun intended but it does fit here, huh?) after about fifteen minutes of my dog chasing him through the house from below.

Cutie: "Well, I don't know what those other roofing guys saw, but you need a new roof."

Me: "Really? Damn."

Cutie: "I mean, I would put a new roof on. It's probably what, fifteen or sixteen years old? It's up to you, of course. You could just try to get away with one or two more years, but you put money into repairs too, you know. Is it leaking?"

Me: "No."

Cutie: "Well, again, it's up to you. You could spend a few years putting money into it or bite the bullet and put on a new roof. I'm not sure what you want to do. I just give the estimates. It's up to you either way."

Me: "I hope I can afford you. I mean, it."

Cutie: "Yeah, I knew what you meant. No worries. I get it. Your roof has a few areas that need repair, so if I were you, I'd just think about investing in a new one."

Me: "I'll pass that information on to the big guy."

Cutie: "Yeah, and just so you know, we are a Christian company--been in the area for over twenty years. A good Christian company. My dad owns it."

Me: "I meant my husband when I was referring to the big guy."

Cutie: "Yeah, I know. Oh, you're kidding."

Me: "Wait, did someone already warn you about me?"

Cutie: "What? No, no, no one warned me. You're cool. I like that. I get it. I just bought a house myself. It's a lot of work--a lot of repairs."

Me: "I'm curious, have you ever fallen off of a roof?"

Cutie: "No, I haven't, but one of the guys working for me did. He was an older guy, and it was a windy day, and I told him to secure the ladder. He told me he'd been working on roofs before I was born, and he didn't secure it. He was coming down the ladder, the wind blew it sideways, and he tried to jump. He landed on his feet but shattered his ankle. It was annoying. I told him to secure it. Now he's off of work for six months, and I missed a whole day taking him and hanging with him at the hospital."

Me: "That was nice of you."

Cutie: "It was, but it's my dad's company. It's my job. I'd love to put a new roof on you."

Me: "It."

Cutie: "That's what I meant. We're a good Christian company."

I wasn't sure he'd ever leave, but I give him props for knowing how to work a middle-aged, frumpy housewife. No wonder his dad sent him out to do the estimates. 

His estimate was the highest of the three.

Roofing company #4, and I didn't even know there was another one, showed up Friday after ten in the morning. I had just gotten up because I had gone back to bed due to my late morning NCAA basketball binge-watching. (One of the perks of a SAHM with children in school) I wasn't dressed, and I was annoyed my husband hadn't warned me. Hell, I thought we were done with roofers. 

I took my time, and when I got to the door and stepped outside, the man had his ladder out and was putting it against the house. He was probably in his late fifties and wearing an FSU hat. 

Me: "Hi there. Sorry, I was indisposed."

Roofer: "Oh, sure, that's fine. The email from Tom said he wants an estimate for a roof?"

Me: "Who?"

Roofer: "Tom? I think that's what the email said. He wants an estimate for a new roof."

Me: "I'm just kidding. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night on account I watched basketball until one o'clock."

Roofer: "Ah. I'm a football guy myself."

Me: "Yep. I'm a football gal myself, but it's basketball season now. I'm from Indiana. We do basketball. You into college football?"

Roofer: (pointing to his hat) "Yes."

Me: "I'm into the NFL myself. I'm a Pittsburgh Steelers fan."

Roofer: "I noticed that driving in."

He told me he would check the roof, write up an estimate, and the whole thing would take about thirty minutes. He was knocking on my door in ten. 

Roofer: "So, the email said you wanted an estimate for an aluminum roof too? I gotta tell you, the flat roof back there is perplexing me. What did you want to do with that?"

Me: "Uh, yeah, I have no idea about that. Let me call the big guy because I'm not going to remember anything you're about to tell me due to my late night and fuzzy brain. This way, the big guy won't get mad at me for not remembering whatever you're going to say because you'll tell him directly."

I called my husband, who didn't know anything about another roofer. They conversed, and vaguely, Tom remembered emailing a company two weeks ago. 

Roofer: "Okay, then, so I'll show these pictures to my boss and see what he has to say, and I'll get you those estimates. I'm sorry about that. Okay. Sure. Thanks. I'm going to give your wife back the phone because this keeps buzzing, so I think she's getting a call."

Me: "It's probably my boyfriend. He'll call back."

Roofer: "Yep, you heard that huh? Okay, thanks." He hung up and gave me my phone. "Your husband laughed at the boyfriend joke."

Me: "It was my daughter. She's texting me scholarship information. She's about to graduate."

Roofer: "My son just graduated. He moved to California. Exciting for him but hard for us with him so far away. But he's got to live his life."

Me: "I've got one in NC at college and one in high school, leaving the nest in August. Two tuitions. I wasn't expecting a roof expense on top of that!"

Roofer: "You know you don't really need a new roof, don't you? That's a thirty-year-old roof you've got up there, and I bet it's about twenty years old. Sure, it's got some wear and tear, but that's normal for twenty years. I've got to tell you that roof looks good."

Me: "But we've had other roofers tell us it looked god awful."

Roofer: "Those are companies that want to sell you a new roof. I mean, if you're going to sell this house and they're insisting on a new roof, okay, but if not, well, you got another five years or more in that roof. It isn't leaking, is it?"

Me: "No. We have an area over the bedroom. That's how this all started."

He hadn't noticed that, and so, he went back up. He talked to my husband again on the phone. Came back down.

Roofer: "I missed that. Glad I didn't walk too close to that area when I measured."

Me: "Have you ever fallen off a roof?"

Roofer: "Nah. I stay pretty alert. Have to in this business. The heat gets to you most of the time. That's why we start early and cut out at two o'clock. People don't get that, but then again, they aren't up on a roof."

Me: "I know the feeling. I spent my career in aquatics in a lifeguard stand."

Roofer: "Did you ever fall off the lifeguard stand?"

Me: "I see what you did there. Nice one. No, I never fell off the stand although I did have to jump off of it a few times"

Roofer: "There you go--experts in our fields. I'll get this to my boss and get back to Tom with the estimate. Still want me to give an estimate on a new roof too?"

Me: "Might as well."

Roofer: "Okay, but you don't need it. I try to tell people that. I just came from a guy who we put a roof on in 1999. I told him he doesn't need a new roof. I'm telling you the same thing. Those other guys telling you differently? They just want to make money selling you a roof."

Me: "I appreciate it. Thanks a bunch. You're a good guy."

Roofer: "I try to be. Have a good day."

My vote for the work goes to roofer #4. 

Flashback Friday - Evil Consumer Product

Still going through the archives...

December 1, 2004

When we first moved into our house, I had in my mind the way each room should be decorated. I knew what furniture I wanted and where everything should go. We found our dining room furniture through an ad in the paper. It was exactly what I had envisioned. It wasn't expensive or anything fancy, but it was what I wanted and so we bought it and brought it home. I have lovingly cleaned it, much to the surprise of my mother who had to stand over us as kids when we cleaned her dining room set. I tell you this so you can understand my current dilemma.

Several years ago I discovered Cinch. Cinch was the greatest glass cleaner ever made. It came in a red bottle, cost less than other glass cleaners, and gave my windows such a shine that, and I'm not making this up, one time a bird flew into our window and knocked himself out. That was a little scary, and I had a lot of guilt from that, but really, I blame Cinch. It was just too good of a product. I never bought anything but Cinch. My father-in-law once used it at my house, and he too became a Cinch lover. All was right in my glass world.

But, you knew this was coming, one day Cinch was gone. Kaput. Nada. It packed up it's little red bottle and disappeared. I couldn't find it at Target or Walmart. I looked at obscure places and at Dollar places. No Cinch. I was forced to plop down the big bucks to purchase Windex.

I bought my bottle of Windex at Walmart. I came home from shopping and laid my packages on my dining room table which is where all good housewives lay their groceries and packages when the kitchen counters are cluttered with other stuff. Slowly, one by one, I put away most of the belongings. At some point, I received a phone call. I sat down at the dining room table to converse. I'm sure it was a very important phone call, but I really don't remember the details, just that it took quite a bit of my time.

At some point in the conversation, my legs got tired, yes, they were tired from sitting, and I started to heft them up on to the table. This is one of those things that I can do now on my own damn furniture without my mother yelling at me, well, she would yell at me if she saw me do it now, but she wasn't there and so I did it. But to find space for my legs, I had to remove the Walmart bag with the Windex in it. I sat the bag on the floor and that is when I discovered that my table was not only wet, but now had a big, whitish mark on it. The Windex bottle lid had not been screwed on properly and when I had put the bag down the bottle turned on its side and leaked ALL OVER MY CHERRY VENEER DINING TABLE.

I was pissed. Then I got scared and thought, for just a minute, that my mother was going to kill me. I obviously still have some concern in that department. It took a minute to remember that my mother didn't own the table, and so I relaxed. That lasted about ten seconds, because then I remembered that my husband was going to kill me. At the same time that that thought went through my head, my brain realized that I had set the bag with the leaking Windex on my wood floor. It just went from bad to worse, and without going into details about my search through the web and my phone conversation with a woman from Windex regarding removing my white circle, know that I have know refused to every allow that product into my home. EVER. How hard is it to tighten a lid? If they can't do that, well, I don't want them.

So, that's my dilemma. No Cinch. No Windex. I went on a tear to find a replacement and came up with Glass Plus. It won out over all the others I purchased and I've been merrily spraying Glass Plus on every mirrored surface in my house. I have them under every sink in my house, and I've been thrilled with the product as my new glass cleaner.

They other day I had to replace some of my Glass Plus. Target did not have it. I didn't panic. Target has gotten a bit big for its britches lately, and doesn't always carry those lower priced items. I went to Walmart. You can guess what's next, right? No Glass Plus. What the hell? It's a conspiracy. The only glass cleaner I can now find at any store is Windex or some plain label cleaner I'm sure is plain worthless.

Windex, the glass cleaner that can rid your home of termites because it eats your wood faster than the little buggers, has taken over the world of glass cleaners. It has destroyed the competition. I might have had a melt down right there in the aisle. I was pulling my hair and muttering things like, "Where is my Glass Plus? How hard is it to keep glass cleaners? What happened to Cinch? Damn it, I want my glass cleaners!" Or words to that effect. All I know is, people were avoiding coming down that aisle. Then I got the idea that I was on some television prank show where they took away my cleaner and were following me around with hidden cameras filming my reactions.

I did finally get myself together. I went home and searched for Glass Plus and Cinch online and discovered that they were just not cutting it in the glass cleaner market. They had been fired. Shoved out of the market by...you guessed it...the evil Windex. But, oh joy for me, I can buy it on the glass cleaner black market. I can buy bulk or by the barrel. I can have Cinch again. Or Glass Plus. God, I love the Internet. But, shhhhhhhh, don't tell anyone. And don't buy Windex.

2017 Update: Jeez, I was a tad manic on this one, huh? I have to admit that I had forgotten all about Cinch. I did, however, find Glass Plus a few years ago at our local Ace Hardware Store. I think I actually danced in the aisle when I did. I go there now to purchase my glass cleaner. Today, after reading this article, I discovered Amazon has Cinch. It's over $11.00 for a bottle, but I can buy it. See, that's how good the stuff was that it is $11.00 for a cleaner that normally costs less than $3.50 on sale. But what I've truly come to the conclusion by in re-reading all of this, is that I need a cleaning woman. One who brings her own supplies. Right?

High five to sports

I've written before about how much sports, mostly watching sports, has made a huge impact in my life. I grew up with a mother and father who at one time were both physical education teachers. They played sports, my father a basketball player, my mother a swimmer and whatever sports she could sneak around to play. She grew up in a time where women wore dresses and hosted events not related to sports, and other than the swimming angle I was a disappointment to her in my athleticism. 

I tried. I played basketball, took tennis lessons, but I really enjoyed the fun of sports more than the competitive side of it which made my stomach roil. I loved playing with the neighbors in whatever sport happened to be the game of the day. If it weren't for my swimming career, I probably wouldn't even deem myself an athlete, but even then I was groomed for more than the effort I was willing to put into it. 

I was, however, a great athletic supporter. On the weekends, there was never a time when sports was not playing on our television.  I learned basketball, football, tennis, baseball, and golf sitting in front of the television on Saturday and Sunday listening to my parents as they taught me the rules and regulations of each sport. I'm not sure I was interested at first, maybe it was more of a wanting to fit in, make my parents happy. Or maybe I just wanted to be with them, and since that's where they were, well, that's where I was. 

Either way, I grew to love sports. There was not an event that we didn't watch. We set our clocks by games. We attended local sporting events. I had a brother that excelled at sports, and I went to his games, eventually growing up to call baseball games at the neighborhood ball field. During March Madness, we all filled out brackets. My greatest accomplishment was the year I picked North Carolina State to win the NCAA tournament in 1983. For two weeks, during the Olympics, we knew where we would be, nose pressed to the television, and we devoured Sports Illustrated, learning everything we could about the athletes beforehand. The World Series, the Super Bowl, the U.S. Opens in tennis and golf, Wimbledon, the Masters, all of it we spent glued to a television. It is so much a part of who I am. 

I bonded with my husband through sports. We had dates playing basketball at night after I got off of work. We attended local games. I remember the moment I realized he was the one for me. We were lounging at a pool reading, both of us reading books on sports. He once went all out fixing a champagne breakfast for Breakfast at Wimbledon. I use to accompany him to triathlons. Eventually, we encouraged our girls to play sports, always there on the sidelines cheering them on, offering way more advice than they needed after games.

Somewhere, especially when the children were small, we stepped away from sports. We didn't have the time, but it didn't last long. Little by little, various situations presented themselves and we were sucked right back in to what we loved. I met my Steelers buddy in Lamaze class and rediscovered my football love. Tom met a tennis player at the park with the girls and joined him on the weekends to hit around. Our area got a professional baseball team and we began going to the games.

Last weekend, as I sat like a couch potato watching basketball game after basketball game, I wondered how in the world my children avoided this obsession. My eldest attends a huge basketball school, and despite my husband and I begging her to do so, she has never attended a game. What? She played basketball, football, and soccer growing up, but she has never had any interest in plopping down next to me on a couch to watch games. 

My youngest daughter was involved this year in a fantasy football league. She chose her players by cool names, looks, and a bit of help, but mostly she played because the boys who set up the league didn't ask her to participate. She considers herself a feminist, and the fact that she wasn't asked and all the boys in their friend group were, well, she wormed herself right into that. Then she turned it over to me, and I was way more involved in her team then she was. She has played football, basketball, baseball, soccer, and while she is much like my brother, a natural athlete, she chose swimming as her high school sport, but when the season ended she happily moved on to non sports related activities.

They don't watch sports. They don't know the rules of tennis. They've never filled out an NCAA bracket. They roll their eyes at my love of football, and while they are willing to attend games, it is a take it or leave it type of situation. Like me, they grew up with sports on television, but unlike me, they had more options for entertainment. While they are used to me spouting out useless sports information, or naming athletes by their jerseys hung on walls at restaurants, they have no interest in delving into it further. 

I always wonder at this when I'm watching sports. I get such a rush at the greatness of the sport, the athletes, and the coaching that I hate they are missing out. I texted my eldest and told her I was working hard at pulling her team through the game. She sent me laughing emojies. She was busy studying. 

It sort of makes me sad, because it was such a connection for me with my parents, but I don't dwell on it too much. We have our own connections on other stuff. Besides, recently my eldest told me she would need my help on creating some sports activities for her new job as an RA next year. Plus, I'm holding out for the grandchildren. I bet I can mold them.

Time to step forward for change

Since going over yesterday's post, I've felt so odd. I mean, I've spent the past week enjoying my time with my girls, but regretting and worrying over so many things. Things that I apparently regretted and worried about TWELVE YEARS AGO. So much for changing the outlook. But, I'm determined to do so starting now. Today. This minute. I'm getting on the stick. Let's take a look at the things I still feel and can work to change.

Then: I regret not getting weight off when I was younger and it was easier.
Now: Uh, yeah. I think this every time I Facetime someone and see myself in the corner of my phone. Okay, I'm going to the gym and eating fruits and veggies, but this will always be my cross to bear. I blame my genes.

Then: I regret all the sniping and snipping I've done with my mother.
Now: This is a huge one for me now. I believe that most of what I'm experiencing now have to do with my mother and our relationship. I might need a professional for this one, and I haven't ruled that one out, but in the meantime I'm trying to sort through all of the guilt and anger. I am certainly working on this one day at a time.

Then: I regret not writing
Now: I think I'm working very well on this one right now. I'm was discussing going to a conference and attending some workshops with my daughters this past week so now...well, I'm a believer in signs and this one is telling me to get on signing up for the conference!

Then: I regret not making a will
Now: I use to worry about my kids and what would happen to them, and so I ignored it. Now they are legal and I don't have to name guardians. I'm hoping that will push me forward because this is seriously a serious one. If I could do that online, instead of having to search for papers and stuff I could probably knock this one out. Note to self: Check into that.

Then: I wish I could take back all of the stupid things I've said over the years.
Now: Okay, this can't be done, and whatever, I was an idiot. I'm sorry. To all of you. I've said stupid shit to everyone over the years, and I apologize. I truly do. To all of you, family and friends. I regret it daily. Now though, I am trying really hard to think before I speak, to listen before I pipe in with my opinions, and to be kinder to everyone. It is fucking HARD. (And yes, I know my resolution on that word, but it was used correctly here). I work at this every day and beg forgiveness almost every night. But I am determined to learn. Bare with me.

Then: I wish I had a better relationship with my brother.
Now: Sigh. Is this always going to be me asking for this? This one goes with the mother one, but I think he and I are trying. Not very hard, but we make some small steps forward and some small steps backwards. A lot of water under the bridge, but we love each other. We are all we have left so I keep pushing, and at times he does too. I'll work harder at two steps forward and one step back.

Then: I wish I was as carefree as I was when I was playing games in my yard at 8200.
Now: Yeah, well, that was childhood. Childhood is so different from adulthood, and I don't know many adults who feel that carefree. Maybe I need to hang out with other people. Still, I want to feel less stressed and to feel at least that sense of happiness as I had as a child. I think after I get all of the above figured out this one will come....