213. Sean the Salesman

So this guy knocked on the door at five o'clock sharp the other day. First off, who's actually home from work at five on the dot? Not my husband, usually. School teachers, yes, but not someone who works 8-5 unless they have a two second commute time. Anyway, back to Sean the Salesman. 

So I open the door and there's this nice-looking young man selling lawn-watering systems. I'm sure you've seen them around. They're a dime a dozen. Now, normally when these salespeople come by I listen for three seconds and say I'm not interested and that's that. But for whatever reason I thought "you know, I actually think I do want what this guy is selling." But as I said, my husband isn't home at five sharp and a high class lawn-watering system is probably something we ought to discuss before purchasing. 

So I told Sean the Salesman, to come back in about an hour when my husband will be home. The hour came and went and he didn't come back, but that turned out alright because my husband didn't either. By seven thirty he was home and I'd complete forgotten about Sean the salesman. 

Half an hour later I was putting the kids down when the doorbell rang. Up to my elbows in baby poop, I didn't think it would be very appropriate for me to run downstairs and quickly explain to Jake my mistake. I heard the door open, heard the usual "sorry, we're not interested," the unusual murmured exchange, and then the door shut.

 Having finished with my cleanup, I headed down the stairs as Jake was headed up. "Did "so-and-so" company stop by today?" He asked.

Oops. Cough. "Uh, yeah," I say back. "I told him to come back when you were home."

"Oh. I told him we weren't interested. Are we?"

"I actually am a bit."

"Oh. You didn't tell me about it."

"Yeah. I forgot. Oh well."

And I figured that was that. I went downstairs to turn on a show to rest a bit before cleaning. Feeling sick is an exhausting business. Jake went upstairs to change into his workout clothes and hit the gym. 

He came back down, kissed me goodbye, and headed out to the car. Now, our couch sits against the wall of the garage. It's the only logical place for it. So it's no miracle that I could hear Jake talking to someone outside. At first I figured it was our neighbor and I kept scrolling through Netflix trying to find a show. But they kept talking and talking and talking. And then I realized the voice talking back (it got closer and thus louder) was a man. Turns out Jake had seen Sean the Salesman in the street, and rather than ignore him and let me feel the consequences of my forgetfulness, he flagged Sean the Salesman down, admitted we had had a miscommunication and asked about his system. And then he spent the next twenty minutes discussing options and pricing and what-not with a salesman he had dismissed, because I was interested, even though he wasn't at all. Now that's true love: giving up your limited man-time to do something for your wife. He's awesome. 

But poor Sean the salesman. We got his hopes up. Smashed them. Got them up again. Smashed them. Turns out a lawn-watering system is a bit more expensive than we're willing to pay just yet. But I guess that's what you sign up for when you move from Utah to Texas to become a salesman.