"Donell's Pool Service," it read proudly.
"I thought we were getting a patio," I said to Joe.
"We are. He does pools, too."
"Do we get a discount if we get both?" I asked. "Buy a patio, get a pool free?"
He didn't think so.
"That's more than we can fit inside," I whispered to Joe. "Besides, we don't even know that many people to invite. When it gets dark, we'd have to tell people to go home."
The man eyed our tree, which admittedly is not the healthiest tree around, and pronounced a limited lifespan for it. He seemed doubtful that it would live much longer, maybe not even through next week, but we could try pruning it and shooting little bolts of fertilizer into the ground. All of these he generously offered to do for us. "I used to do trees," he said modestly.
He then moved on to landscaping, which, as he helpfully pointed out, was also listed on the card as one of his services. He would have to remove all of our plants to put the patio in, but he could, he said, save them and replant them for a small fee. Or he could redo the entire garden. His tone clearly indicated his belief that, in our case at least, a brand-new garden was warranted.
The man did not entirely stick with business talk on his first visit. Interspersed among all the services he could provide for us were tales of his personal life -- his interest in model cars; his historic home bought for $1 at auction but missing several integral parts that typically come with houses, such as a stairway to the second floor; his wife's gout. I indicated to Joe that he should bring the conversation back around to our patio, which he promptly did.
"We have this water problem on the other side of the house," he said.
The man perked up. "I can take care of that for you if you want," he said.
"Do you wash windows, too?" I asked.
He shook his head. "Nah," he said.
At last, I thought! Something he couldn't take care of for us.
"But my wife could maybe do it," he added.
We thanked him and said we would be in touch about the patio.
As he turned to go to his truck, he had one last idea. "Do you know anyone who needs a pool?"
The man eyed our tree, which admittedly is not the healthiest tree around, and pronounced a limited lifespan for it. He seemed doubtful that it would live much longer, maybe not even through next week, but we could try pruning it and shooting little bolts of fertilizer into the ground. All of these he generously offered to do for us. "I used to do trees," he said modestly.
He then moved on to landscaping, which, as he helpfully pointed out, was also listed on the card as one of his services. He would have to remove all of our plants to put the patio in, but he could, he said, save them and replant them for a small fee. Or he could redo the entire garden. His tone clearly indicated his belief that, in our case at least, a brand-new garden was warranted.
The man did not entirely stick with business talk on his first visit. Interspersed among all the services he could provide for us were tales of his personal life -- his interest in model cars; his historic home bought for $1 at auction but missing several integral parts that typically come with houses, such as a stairway to the second floor; his wife's gout. I indicated to Joe that he should bring the conversation back around to our patio, which he promptly did.
"We have this water problem on the other side of the house," he said.
The man perked up. "I can take care of that for you if you want," he said.
"Do you wash windows, too?" I asked.
He shook his head. "Nah," he said.
At last, I thought! Something he couldn't take care of for us.
"But my wife could maybe do it," he added.
We thanked him and said we would be in touch about the patio.
As he turned to go to his truck, he had one last idea. "Do you know anyone who needs a pool?"
2 comments:
Are your 11 or 12 guests going to be able to sit down on your 24-square-feet patio?
I think by "guests" he meant, possibly, miniature grasshoppers.
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