P.T. Barnum once said there’s a sucker born every minute. I know for a fact that this is true.
I’m the sucker he was talking about.
Just ask the aluminum siding salesman who visited my house a couple weeks ago and walked away with enough money to retire to Florida for the next five winters.
It all started with a phone call. At 9:30 Saturday morning. I knew before I picked up the receiver that there would be a salesman on the other end of the line. Anyone who knows me at all knows better than to call before noon on a Saturday.
“Hello,” I grumbled, not trying to keep the sleep out of my voice.
“Good morning, Mr. Taylor,” said a male voice that sounded pleased as punch to be awake on a sunny Saturday morning. “I’m Vince Congrove of Wonderwood Siding Company (the names have been changed because I’m afraid Vince will sue me otherwise), and we’re calling people in your area with a special, limited-time offer on our special, lifetime guaranteed, plexi-metal siding!”
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled. “Well, I was—”
“Can I ask you, sir,” enthused Vince, “are you a homeowner?”
“Me and the bank, yeah, but, see, the thing is, I was out late last night and—”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Vince. “Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, you did,” I said, not trying to sound pleased about it.
“Would another time be better?” Vince asked.
“Any time would be better.”
Two weeks and 26 phone calls later, most of which came at inconvenient times, Vince had finally talked me into allowing him to drop by to give me a “free estimate.”
The lovely Mrs. Taylor and I sat on the sofa while Vince went through his spiel, explaining the virtues of his special, lifetime guaranteed, plexi-metal siding, and how installing some on our home would save us money, make our home more energy-efficient, and allow the both of us to live well past the age of 102. After a half-hour of smooth patter, a dozen “siding samples” and approximately 6,000 catalog photos of smiling homeowners standing beside their recently-sided homes, Vince sat back and gave me the “Whaddya think?” look.
I did what any right-thinking, red-blooded American male would do. “It’s up to the wife,” I said.
Vince nodded knowingly. He had swum these waters before.
In an eye blink he switched tactics completely. Where he had been giving me the “Won’t your neighbors be jealous” shtick, he now came on to Mrs. Taylor like an accountant who really loves his work. My ears more or less shut down when Vince started talking financing, annual percentage points, depreciation, tax incentive and God knows what else. If I wanted to deal with that sort of stuff, I would have never gotten married in the first place.
While I gazed on, slack-jawed, Mrs. Taylor dickered pricing, financing and monthly payments until she had worn the poor siding salesman down to a shell of his former enthusiastic self. I imagine his “There goes my commission” look was about as genuine as a three-dollar bill, but I did get the impression Mrs. Taylor really had negotiated his rock-bottom price. She must have thought so too, since it was at this point she told me where to sign.
That was the last we saw of Vince. A few days ago, Larry, Moe and Curly showed up in a van and began hammering the special, lifetime guaranteed, plexi-metal siding into place. It looks nice, just as Vince said it would. And it does seem to be made of some sort of special, plexi-metal material. I just hope the “lifetime guaranteed” part is true.
It’s going to take me that long to pay it off.





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