I’ve decided that the three worst kind of people in the world, in order, are:
Rapists
Pedophiles
Salespeople
A week or so ago I made the grave mistake of signing up for a “solar energy audit.” A guy came to the door and introduced himself, saying he was working on retrofitting a house with new windows a block or two away and, heads-up, I might see a drone in the air and not to worry. Then he asked if I’d ever had an energy audit on “the new house.”
“New?”
“Yeah, you just moved in, right?”
“Uh… yeah.” Stupid public records.
Anyway, we agreed to have them come by later – which turned out to be last night – and do an “energy audit.” I thought he would be talking about upgrading windows and adding skylights, both of which we’ve discussed the need for in the new house. How naive of me. When the guy actually showed up we learned that it was really a sales pitch for photovoltaic roof panels.
My wife and I spent half an hour listening this moron who had reeking BO and a cheek full of snuff sit at my dining room table and tell us all about the wonders of solar power. Nothing about skylights or window replacements, which is what the guy who came to the door said it was. My wife kept her mouth shut pretty much the whole time because 3 seconds in she knew we’d been had and knew I was likely going to immediately become argumentative and insulting to the deceptive visitor.
I love my wife to death, but sometimes she can be so, so wrong. It took closer to ten minutes before I started arguing with him.
He began by pulling out a laptop and firing up a PowerPoint slideshow. First out of the gate: the wonders of renewable energy. Seriously, dude? You’re beginning with that? You aren’t from around here, are you?
So no, not happening. I’m going to be selfish and make my priorities first. Let’s discuss cost. Actually, we aren’t going to really discuss it, you’re going to give me numbers. We’ll start there, then talk. This convo is going nowhere if I don’t know what the total cost is. So I interrupted his spiel and asked. Upfront costs, total cost, maintenance costs. He didn’t answer. I don’t care what I’m buying (well, with a few exceptions I suppose), I’m going to start with a budget, ascertain the price of whatever I’m shopping for, and go from there. If I buy a car, I start with a budget, figure out what makes and models fit into my budget or what used cars are available that fit my budget, (i.e., what’s the sticker/asking price), and see what fits. Every purchase I make, down to groceries and gasoline, is the same. Start with a budget and an asking price: everything else flows from those two numbers. This guy would not answer me. He kept beating around the bush until he finally caved after my umpteenth request: The cost of the solar panels, the upgraded electrical panel, the permits, the installation, and whatever else I’ve forgotten for my 1400 square foot rambler ranch house with about 40% of the roof area unusable for solar panels was….
Want to guess? Total shopping bag price.
$124,000.
I literally laughed.
My remaining mortgage, on a $340K house, is $205K. He had an iPad with a financing application already waiting to be filled out. Without missing a beat he started asking for the various information each field on the application was requesting. I told him that I work for the federal government in a capacity that does not allow me to divulge that information. (Not true, I don’t know if it’s true for anyone, ever, but it sounded good to me. Better than “go to hell, asshole” at any rate.)
He paused for a long moment, looking around the dining room and living room, apparently trying to figure out if I was yanking his chain or not. Then he became extremely offended that we weren’t going to sign the paperwork for the whole system right then and there. He tried all the slimy salesmen lines, interspersed with pauses to point to the graphs and charts and big flashy headlines on his PowerPoint: “this offer is only good for today.”(It was 6pm) “I’m leaving town to go back to the office [which he said was in Tumwater, 5 hours away] tomorrow so you don’t even need my phone number if you change your mind, I won’t be around. Gotta strike while the iron is hot!” “This deal is a great deal, all our competitors charge more than us by thousands… tens of thousands even!” “It’ll add up to 4% value to your house!”
That’s when I started to get outwardly pissed. I told him that the cost of the system would be about 60% of my outstanding mortgage, which is a metric shitload more than “4%” value. And that doesn’t take into account depreciation and aging of the system. Not exactly an apples-to-apples comparison, but this jerk didn’t strike me as the pedantic type.
“Nowhere near 60%,” he says with supreme confidence. Really? I had done the math in my head as we talked. So I pull out a legal pad. “We learned this in 6th grade, I’m sure you remember. Introductory elementary algebra. If you’re trying to determine what percentage of 205K is 124K, you have to write it out like this” (writewritewrite), “then you must isolate your variable, which is the percentage that we are after – are you following? We do this using division because division is the opposite of what? Multiplication, that’s right.” (Writewritewrite as I hear a barely audible snicker from my wife), “and then of course we must convert the number that now represents the variable we just solved for to a percentage. Do you remember how to do that? 5th grade, I think is when we learned that.” (write) “60.4 percent. Rounding is fun, so let’s call it 60 percent, ok?” Another snicker from the direction of my wife but maybe I was imagining things.
“You’re missing the point,” he says, despite the fact that was the exact point his feeble moth-sized brain was trying to make. “You’d have a much lower power bill.” Earlier he had told me that, by his estimation, with his fancy system my power bill would be about half of what it is now if averaged out over 12 months. I start in on the legal pad again. “Ok. Let’s do the math. I pay, at most, $350/month for power. You want me to pay you $460/month for this photovoltaic system on a 25 year (!!!) financing plan while also paying ~$175/month to the power company? In what world is 635 less than 350?!”
He didn’t respond directly to that. “Sir, you do realize that this is renewable energy, right? Can you really put a price on your conscience?”
Long pause “We’re in western Oregon. We are already on renewable energy. Forgive me for assuming you knew that. The hydroelectric dams on the Columbia, which I’m sure you crossed on your way down from Tumwater, are kind of famous.” At this I could almost feel my wife, who was sitting off to the side a bit out of my line of sight, do a full-body eye-roll / cringe.
“Uh… well, this is yours, he sputtered. "You wouldn’t be beholden to a heartless power company owned by Warren Buffet!” (I have no idea where that came from.)
“Well,” says I, “except for the 50% of my power needs you say the solar panels wouldn’t cover. I’d still be reliant on the grid for that.”
“Well…. …. Yeah, I suppose so. But still, there’s freedom in having solar! It’s a very patriotic thing to do when you own your own land! It gives you some buy-in [he actually said that] on your home” This is Trump country, my money says using those words has earned him a sale or two. And “property rights” are up there with 2A freedoms around here, so I suspect using that particular line was just playing his expected audience. Which, of course, neither my wife or I could be further from.
I respond, “Freedom, that’s true. There’s freedom in having a brand-new Lexus, one of which I could buy, any model I could care to want in any trim, color, and configuration I could want, for less than the price you just quoted me.” I didn’t know if that was true at the time, but it sounded good in the heat of the moment. Googling later, I discovered it was indeed true.
At this point he muttered something about not wanting to be pushy, grabbed his iPad and messenger bag, and literally without another word walked out of the house. After a few moments of stunned silence at his sudden and unceremonious departure my wife turns to me and says, "so does this mean we arent buying a new Lexus either?”
Fucking jerk. I swear I can still smell his reek lingering in the air.
