Ding dong, knock knock


Ding dong. Knock knock.

Evidently someone’s at the door.
As I walk down the stairs toward the front door, I can’t see anyone outside. I open the door and still can’t see anyone, so I look around on the ground in case anyone’s left a package.
Nothing.

I step outside and look around, to find a tall, gangly 18-ish year-old guy, who had obviously stolen Gilligan’s hat, and who was too busy looking at my driveway to say anything to me.

Me: “Did you just ring my doorbell?”
Gilligan: “Yes.”
Me: “Do you always walk away from doors after you ring or knock?”
Gilligan: “Yes. I offer driveway repair services and I can’t give you a price if I haven’t seen your driveway.”

Mistake number one: you make a dumbass opening move and don’t follow with “Oh, pardon me” or something equivalent.
Mistake number two: you’ve obviously not made a killer impression, and before even telling me anything I actually give a crap about, you announce that you want to sell me something.

Me: “Here’s a thought. Try taking a look at someone’s driveway *before* you ring the doorbell.”
Gilligan: “Oh, OK.”
Me: “We’ve already received other offers for these services. Thanks anyways.”

I shut the door.
Mistake number three: being an overall putz.
Hope Gilligan doesn’t make sales his life aspiration.

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2 comments on “Ding dong, knock knock

  1. Lallie says:

    Encounters of the “Putz” kind…

    My latest putz experience also involved an 18-year kid – looked about a enthused about life as a slug.

    I was tired one evening as I was driving my grandmother to Rockland and desperately needed a coffee as I had about an hour of driving ahead of me. So I see a gas station (Mr. Gas on Trim near 174), and, against my better judgment, I decided to try it. I had been recently pleasantly surprised at the improved taste of McDonald’s coffee, so I thought there might be hope for bad coffee everywhere. This is where being so positive and having faith that things always work out gets me in trouble.

    So, I find the coffee at the back of the store, where I see there are several carafes of coffee (Colombian, French Roast, House blend, a few others, and gross flavours like vanilla and hazelnut). The area looks clean, well-stocked, so I think maybe there is a chance this coffee might actually be somewhere near decent. I try the Colombian: empty. The house blend: empty. Same for the next three that I try. Looking around for help, I don’t see anyone. I’m forced to try the unmarked carafe. It has an orange tab…is this the dreaded ‘decaf’ marker? I push the tab and hot steamy brown liquid that smells pretty good comes out, fills my cup. I add some milk and head to the cash, where the kid, or rather, the ‘putz’, is sitting reading a magazine, hiding behind a display of dried sausages and other snacks that will last decades.

    Me: “I hope this coffee isn’t decaf…this is the only kind left and it’s in the unmarked carafe with the orange tab.”

    Putz: “I don’t know.” blink, blink, stare…

    Me: “Well, you SHOULD know and if you DON’T know, you should tell your boss that customers are asking and that it might be important for you to be able to provide answers.”

    Putz: “Oh.” Shrugs. Punches something into the register. Stands there, does or says nothing.

    I realize he’s moved on, and is waiting for my payment, for something I’m not even sure I want. I have to peer over another useless display of crap to see that the amount I owe is ninety-four cents.

    I give him a loonie. He can’t even bother to look at me while doing this…then I realize he probably needs every ounce of concentration to figure out that my change is six cents. His parents must be proud.

    Question about putzes – are they a special breed or is it contagious? How can we keep it from spreading to our own children? Is there such a thing as putz repellent or detectors? Maybe there’s an app for that.

    Shudder… It’s ok. I’ll get over it soon. But beware, people, beware.

  2. Lallie says:

    I forgot to add…

    the coffee was not drinkable and I had to get a coffee at Tim Horton’s in Rockland.

    and apologies for all the spelling mistakes…I’m still waiting for this morning’s two coffees to kick in.

    Nat

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