I've thought long and hard about where to start with this, and I've come to the conclusion it doesn't really matter. Wherever you start with a blog, you're already out of date!

I should probably title this one “over the edge” because that's why I'm starting here. Sales people: My father deals with them well, my partner deals with them well. I do not.

I crumble under the accusing voices of sales people. I know what I want, but they keep offering other things and wondering why I don't want the other things. In 9 of 10 situations I actually don't know why I don't want the other things, so mutter something incoherently and hope they go away. The latest problem revolves around a certain double glazing company. Now I don't actually want windows, because I already have some, but they happen to do the whole other range of expensive necessities (and sometimes unnecessities, too) like doors, fascias, guttering etc. I want the fascias done because they are nasty and I'm not getting up there to paint the bloody things.

Before we've even had a date for the work to get done, I get phone calls as a “valued customer”. The first one goes something like:

“We want to give you a 2 year price at an extra discount because you're having work done already. <Insert list of things they offer that I already have> How about the garage roof?”

“Erm, ok” I say (because you know that I'm in the middle of something else and they always catch me off guard).

So we sort out what the garage is like.

“Oh, joined to your neighbours? No, we can't do those.”

Great. End of story.

Nuh-uh. Muggins here reminds them we have a porch, too. Facepalm. The guy leaps on that like he's been fired out of a cannon, with all the fun of the faire.

“Ok, so are you around later today?”

What? No, wait, we don't want a porch. We don't want anything to do with your sales agents for quotations. Oh god what have I done? Throwing my phone out of the window in the hope they think I've died and go away becomes a real possibility at that point.

We arrange Friday. No problems. They fail to turn up. Get a phone call that night, 30 minutes after the event was supposed to occur, I'm busy about to throw myself into Neverwinter Nights and forget about everything for a little while … right, fine, phone back on Sunday we'll talk then. They don't.

Monday comes around and my phone is ringing off the hook.

“We understand you're having some work done, and would like to offer you … ”

Whoa, hold up, this sound familiar. It's a different guy, they've cocked it all up, except now they won't leave me the hell alone! Fine, Monday night.

Then the straw that broke the camel's back. I call this guy back:

“Is the porch something you think you're going to have done in the next couple of years?”

“I don't know if I'm going to be here in 6 months!” I cry, frustration bubbling over into my vocal chords. But it's too late …

“Well if you don't want it, we don't want to waste anyone's time.”

I don't, I don't, I don't, I don't, just agree, just agree, just agree …

“Are you sure, I mean we can just come and take photos!”

Yes! Sounds great! No, wait, that's the disapproving you're-wasting-my-time voice. What's the right answer? Let the earth open up now please.

My father wouldn't've got into this. My partner would've just told them to shut up and shove off. But me? I crumble under the guilt trip and all higher brain activity ceases and I go into a barely controlled state of panic, just looking for the right answer that will get rid of them once and for all. When finally I think I have the answer, and grow a pair, I'm already burried but still digging a bigger hole.

“Ok, about 6 then.”

Fuck.