"Salesmanship" Circa 1965

   The call came unexpectedly, though not for the first time.  Over a year ago, I'd attended a community fair or exhibit function and had been persuaded to enter my name in a drawing for one of their prizes, the entry coming with the assurance that there would be no sales calls.  Maybe no sales calls, but that hasn't excluded follow-up calls to verify that I was still at the same address; in case I win they need to contact me.  The drawing is always being held "next month."  Normally, I say no thank you, or simply hang up.  But this time I responded differently.
   Last winter, our front side door froze solid.  It took  kicks from a powerful man to get it closed, and then no one could open it until the spring thaw.  One theory was that the ground beneath the cellar-less foundation had frozen so deeply that it impinged upon the very structure and resulted in an upheaval that impacted the door.  So we decided to get a new door, which would replace both the old outer storm door as well as the wooden entry door.   We called a contractor, one referred by a local agency, and the man came to our house, said he could do it, and would send an estimate.  Though he had seemed earnest, we have not heard from him in two months; he has not even responded to emails.
   So when the call came, out of the blue, from Phillips Home Services, I relented from my usual stance, and told the guy to come and give us one of the free estimates they're advertising.  So, at the appointed time, 10:00 a.m. on Friday, Jim showed up at our door.  I must say I experienced those old-time misgivings when I saw that he was wearing a pink dress shirt, and was carrying a large, stuffed-to-the-hinges leather briefcase.  Even more ominous, he wanted to sit at the kitchen table to talk, before he even saw the door project. Back in the 1960's and before, people were sold encyclopedias in that manner, and freezer plans, and baby furniture.  When I thought things couldn't get any more retro than that, he asked the question, "Where is Mr. S.?"   "Not here," I said, "He had an appointment."  Poor Jim, looking rather miserable, told me he'd have to reschedule, that he was not allowed to speak to only one of two homeowners.  I told him I wasn't buying anything, though we would if all was okay, that I only wanted him to leave an estimate. He was apologetic and called his boss.
    He put me on the phone with his boss, who reiterated the company policy.  It would be the same if only the husband were there, he said, I shouldn't feel offended.  He also offered to re-schedule the visit.  But I was too far into memories of the past, when I had to change all my credit cards to my husband's name, and other indignities. (Especially since I had the solid credit rating and he was an unencumbered free spirit.) So I told him thanks, that I was unable to do the "Jack and Jill buy a door" routine.  If his sales rep wanted to leave an estimate, we'd gladly consider it, and both of us would, of course, sign the contract.
    So next week, I'm visiting Lowe's.  Hoping to avoid the display-filled briefcase at the kitchen table.