Getting Called on the Carpet
This is where I tell you, dear reader, that we have potentially taken on a project that could be my undoing. Last year, we bought a 1953 Cape Cod in Arlington that is a remodeler’s dream. We were drawn to the house because it had only one owner and scant updates to the ancient kitchen and baths. We were excited to put our thumbprint on a house with good bones, charming curb appeal and more space than we needed. However, neither my husband nor I are very handy. He has no clue about anything DIY, while I’m the one who starts the project only to wimp out and call professionals after I’ve made a mess and exhausted myself. The good news is that my brother-in-law (BIL) is a talented builder with a stable full of subcontractors.
Fast forward a few months and we have a few projects under our belts. In order to keep the basement dry, we had my BIL get a crew out to raise and brick in the window wells and do some grading. That went great. The next project was getting the basement painted. Again, my BIL sent his best guys out for a 2 day paint-a palooza.
Now we needed carpet in the basement, so I set up a few people from reputable companies to come out and give quotes. The first one came out today and it didn’t go well. Most things that happen in my world that require thought and being nice before 10 AM don’t go well, FYI.
My salesperson started off with the wheezy, why pick us/why we’re so awesome speech. (Move along, we’re not getting married, so I don’t need to know all this.) Then the speed talk though the particulars so I can’t remember the terms (HAHA! I taught high school for 10 years and you still can’t talk as fast as a 9th grader. I heard and understood every word you said.) Next came the actual look-see of the basement space and carpet samples. (How exciting. All I want to know is how resistant it is to dog vomit and red wine stains, really.) At this point, said salesperson had made what could have been a 30 minute appointment into almost an hour; this poor soul had no idea my attention span had already been shot.
I like the one in the middle, you? by Amy Knebel
Then came that magic moment when the sales pitch was ON. The conversation drifted from 10 year warranties directly to *the best price if I chose next day installation*. (You’re kidding, right? Ain’t no way that’s happening. You’re the first carpet sales troll we’ve had to visit! It simply isn’t done.) Alas, carpet troll thought a raised voice would convince me. (Nope, that’s when I start laughing on the inside. I’m not deaf, I’m just not buying carpet today.) Next came the former teacher discount, the contractor discount, the overstock discount. (Funny, the price has come down $900 in 45 seconds and you were pushing for a sale before the magic price. How stupid do I look?)
When it was clear that I wasn’t going to be swayed to buy carpet at that very second, out came the woe is me tales of fuel costs, the dastardly sales manager, and making ends meet. (Hey, I have 99 problems too, and you just made yourself not one of them.) Undaunted, the carpet sales maniac pressed on and suggested that it would be better if my husband, the decision maker, was home to just say yes to this absolute best price. (Even funnier. The only thing we bother the Mr. with deciding is what’s for dinner and how much water in his Scotch. I could be insulted, but why bother?)
We eventually agreed that no means no, and I sent said salesperson off for the next magic carpet ride, no sale. If there is a sales manager deity, please let today’s visitor be called on the carpet for making sure I won’t be doing business with your company ever.