I’ve been mulling over how to write this post because the
experience had me so traumatized I’ve been convinced that the guy I’m writing
about will somehow read this and come back to my house to kill me…
But in the interest of humanity… I must proceed.
We have cream-colored carpets and two dogs that seem to
think the carpets are mud-colored… At least they act like it as they roll
around on the carpet, scratching their backs on my unforgiving, shows
everything and then some floor.
Living Social must be mind readers because there was an
amazing deal for a company that had really good reviews. Score one for Whitney.
Or so I thought.
Scheduling should have been my first clue. I sent in an email
to the company’s website scheduler and got emails at all hours of the night to
confirm an appointment for the first available Saturday… hmm.
The week before my appointment I get a call on my cell at
work from email guy and he tells me there was a cancellation and wants to know if I
want him to come by right now.
Me: “Um… thanks but I’m at work right now.”
Guy: “Oh I thought you were a housewife.”
Awkward pause ensues.
Me: “Yeah, no I’m not. That’s why I needed a Saturday
appointment.”
Guy: “Haha – ok I’ll see you on your appointment…”
I don’t remember what
else he was saying but he kept talking.
Me: “Yeah, I’m at work I actually need to go.”
Second clue received, but didn’t deter me.
I wish it had.
Day of appointment, the guy calls me to confirm he’s on his
way. I had actually missed the call because my phone decided to drop service
completely. So I called him back left a message and texted him that I was home
and just having cell problems.
Guy rings the doorbell, comes in sweating profusely (I’ll
give him props that he was at least self-aware of this fact and had a towel
slung over his shoulder) and says: “I called you and you didn’t answer your
phone.”
Confirmation… this was going to be long. And painful.
The story continues to be just that but takes a creepy,
serial killer turn when…
Guy: “What’s your wardrobe style?”
Me: “Pardon?”
Guy: “You know – how do you dress. For work – do you wear
power suits and such?”
Me: “No not really not unless I have Clients in the office
do I really have to dress up.”
I offered too much information in that reply.
The rest of the appointment, creecher decided to come show
me pictures of clothes he bought for his fiancé*.
*If the definition of fiancé has changed to “woman who
doesn’t even live in the same country as you and is clearly using you buy her
things but has no real interest in you” then yes… it was his fiancé.
Creecher keeps showing me pictures the rest of the
appointment (1) making it way longer than it should have ever been and (2)
causing me to have severe anxiety to the point where I strategically stood next to the kitchen knives and mentally prepared for which knife I
would grab… just in case.
And it doesn’t stop.
Creecher makes a statement of “You should let me be your
personal shopper.”
And at this moment I learned a lesson… There is no
appropriate response to the above statement. The best one can do is fumble
around and get this creep out of your house.
45 minutes later I did.
Followed by a double-check of the lock on the door and
turning the house alarm on. (And maybe a gut-check of where Justin’s gun was…
just in case.)
This of course is the abbreviated version of my
four-nearly-five-hour ordeal… but serial killer right??
So in the interest of anonymity and yet deterring anyone
else from hiring this company, I submit for your review different links to
reviews… you decide which one might be the to avoid.
WHOOPSIES… did I post two links that were page not founds??
My bad :)
