random thoughts – Day 1,594 – (Monday) – get gone

There was a donation pickup scheduled with a nonprofit today. The pile of sweaters and blouses, ill-fitting dresses and pants had been bagged Sunday night, and labeled as noted in the instructions. It was brought to the curb for 7:00 a.m., along with a shoebox filled with books and I was glad for it to be gone.

Ready to go away.

When the pickup was scheduled, I didn’t think about it being trash day. The bag was set at the end of the driveway kind of near the trash bin. It was unlikely the bag would be taken as trash as it wasn’t in a barrel, but I did imagine a wild west type stand-off in the middle of the street as the trash pickup truck and the charity pickup truck fought for space, similar to me and the ice cream truck last week when it was parked diagonally and blocking access to my driveway while the driver spent forever talking with a neighbor.

Around 12:30, rain began to fall. It was quiet and gentle for a minute, it gained enthusiasm, and then the sky opened with the force of a monsoon. The donation bag still sat at the street and there was a sprint to fetch it and pull it into the porch before the usual puddle lake formed there. The bag had a small tear and the contents had gotten a little wet. The box of books was damp. They were wiped off and set into a heavy-duty contractor bag and relabeled to go back outside when it stopped raining so hard.

Monsoon water feature.

It took no time for the front gutter to expel a magnificent sheet of water from above the front door. Water collected at the foot of the driveway and flowed down the street and the neighbor’s driveway to the drain. When the rain stopped the bag went onto the deck steps because the driveway was flooded. Once the water receded, it went back out to the street.

At 5:00, sautéed summer vegetables and salmon were made for supper. I noticed a missed call and a text message on my phone, allegedly from a Fraud Center claiming to represent the institution holding my checking account. It asked if I used debit card # XXXX at Amazon Prime for $139. Ummm, no, there have been no Amazon orders.

Supper on the stove.

The caller number was different than the one on the back of my card, which seemed suspicious. Bank activity was checked online (no issues). The bank’s call center was telephoned and a callback requested. During the wait, my Amazon account was checked and I saw it was the Prime membership renewal, which I thought was a different amount. 

By this time, I had already responded “no” to the question about authorizing the charge and a new text message informed a block had been placed on my card and to call the number listed immediately. I called. It was a menu scenario and then I was disconnected. Twice. In between, I finally got to eat my no longer hot supper. It was still pretty good.

That’s about when someone knocked on the back door. Despite it being nearly 6:00, I was still in the office, right near the back door, visible through the window since the mini-blind broke two years ago, so I couldn’t even hide. Grudgingly, the door was answered.

It was yet another solar industry salesperson, about the 57^th one since spring and I was in no mood for it. I told the sales dude I was still working and didn’t really have time. (Kind of a lie because I wasn’t working-working, but I was at my desk working on sorting out the “is it fraud or not” mystery.)

He kept talking. He tried his “connect with the target” sales techniques. During the course of his attempt at connecting, he complimented my glasses. He mentioned it was his birthday. I tried to explain I am not interested in solar anything and in past sales pitches, my electric bill hasn’t met the qualification level.

He asked if any others live with me (umm, none of your frigging business, but I absent mindedly said “no.” Then he said “so you live alone,” as if he was mandated to verify the answer. By then I was really irritated with the stranger at the door with the solar company tag hanging from a lanyard.

He said he has an appointment tomorrow with the people across the street who “have a huge energy bill.” (Dude, why are you telling me this? Seriously, why?) He pulled out a tablet to show me an illustration with the houses on the street with little red and orange roofs and pointed out my house and the sun my roof allegedly gets.

He insisted money could be saved on my energy bill (sure, in about 100 years). He said he’s also talking with my neighbors (I don’t care). I was finally able to interrupt the monologue and say, “Look, it’s 6:00 and I’m trying to finish up work. And I’m worn out from all the people showing up and trying to sell me solar stuff. And I have other more immediate issues like the waterfall gutter and the basement and the disintegrating shed and a bunch of other things.” And finally, he said goodbye and was gone from my step. I’m pretty sure I will be his bitchy boomer story of the day.  

I am just so frigging tired of people showing up uninvited, knocking on the door to try and sell me something. This isn’t 1950 and we aren’t a bunch of housewives with no transportation just sitting around waiting for someone to come sell us a vacuum cleaner or some brushes or some makeup or a set of knives. Send me an email I can delete or a postcard I can throw away and spare me dealing with a salesperson who won’t listen to me when I say “no thanks.” I regret not buying the doormat that says “Go Away.”

When I went back outside around 7:00 to check if the donation bag was gone yet, it wasn’t. It was hauled inside again. I also noticed the sales dude also wasn’t gone. He was still standing on the porch next door, talking with the neighbor. I wonder if she’ll be impressed by our other neighbor's huge bill and if she'll cave and book the presentation sales pitch.