The Conspiracy Theorist

One of my most recent sales, or sales in progress since I have yet to close the deal (and probably never will), is proving to be a huge pain in the neck.

I have had some skeptics, some reluctant purchasers, even some rude people, but this little lady takes the cake.

She is absolutely convinced I do not work for my company and am just going to run away with her money, but let’s back up a little.

She and her husband, proved to be colossal pains in the neck from the beginning of our appointment, roughly two months ago, and continued on the same path through this week.

To be fair, her husband stopped being annoying after I left the house because all communication from then on has been with the wife: Mrs. Conspiracy Theorist, who I’ll refer to as Mrs. C from here on.

When I arrived at the house, the couple and I went through the usual discussion about their needs and then began to pick a location for the unit. This is usually a short 2-3 minute decision - especially in the frigid temperatures of January, but it required about 15-minutes for this couple.

While in the house, they were adamant they wanted to spend as little money as possible - she could easily be Mrs. Cheap. They live in a half million dollar home and apparently barely scrape by.

The monologue describing their poverty as we sat cramped in their 4,000 square foot home was nonsensical and even more amazingly annoying in broken English.

After walking through five different locations with them, they finally settled on my first placement, which, as I had mentioned, was the cheapest place to install it.

I was finally able to start doing measurements and documentation for the site. I suspected a moment of reprieve from the The C’s, but no such fortune was in my future.

Husband and wife traded off like angry detectives. One would follow and badger me with questions for a few minutes, and then the other.

It was as if we were in a verbal WWF tag-team match. They would high-five and switch roles, as the exhausted interrogator would switch off with the well-rested partner.

Finally, I finished my presentation, which I knew would go nowhere since the entire opening act was a lesson in exactly how cheap they were:

“Our good friend got exactly the same product as we want from your company for $8,000 and 3-years of maintenance for free,” Mrs. C mentioned during our initial conversation upon my arrival.

“Wow, that is really interesting. They must have bought years ago.”

“Yes, they bought 4 years ago.”

“I had a feeling it was a while ago. Prices are not the same as they used to be, and we are not offering any free maintenance at this time. As I said, your job will most likely be around $10,000, or more.”

“But, our friends paid less and got free maintenance.”

“I understand. Unfortunately, this is not the case today. If that is a problem, and you are not willing to spend more than $8,000, I do not want to waste any more of your time.”

They were more than willing to waste their time and mine. The price came in just under $10,000 as predicted, yet they were not willing to buy. Times are tough in The C Mansion.

“We will not be making a decision until mid-February.”

I drove away from that mid-January appointment happy to be done with The C’s. At the time, they proved to be the most irritating cheapskates I had the pleasure of meeting.

As I sit typing this two months later, I am convinced there will be no one to take the championship belt from The C’s.

Mrs. C called me twice within a week from her appointment.

At first, it seemed like good news. She and her husband would indeed purchase in mid-February. Then her second call revealed her true thoughts of conspiracy.

She began to increase her angry broken English and ask for contracts from the company, not from me, a salesperson. As I tried to explain this to her, she continued to become angrier and louder.

I let her rant in circles for about two-minutes straight.

Once she was winded, I asked if I could explain this to her. I then pointed out the contracts all had the company name, address, and phone number on them. She would be mailing the signed documents and her check to the company.

Once Mrs. C actually listened and looked at the documents, she was understanding and almost, almost apologetic...in her tone.

She said she would be mailing the check the next day.

Four days later the office had not received the check. Unfortunately, I had to call Mrs. C and ask if she mailed it.

She loudly declared she had not and would not be mailing a check until I answered her questions.

I reminded her I was always available to answer questions; however, when we spoke last, she said she was mailing the check the next day, and had not done what she said she would. This time, there was no attempt at an apology in tone or volume.

It was obvious and intentional. She was not happy about her dishonesty being noted by the swindling salesman she knew was a liar and a cheat, yet she was the one who lied. The inner struggle must have been humiliating for Mrs. C.

Instead of apologizing for her dishonesty, this lead to 30-minutes of loud conversation in which Mrs. C would ask nonsensical questions in broken English.

I would attempt to answer them each time she paused to catch her breath, but by their nature, they made absolutely no sense, hence, answers were difficult to provide.

It is now mid-March. I know longer have phone conversations with Mrs. C.

I have defeated her the way a punching bag defeats your tired bloody hands. She doesn’t know I used to be a teacher. I am used to dumb questions and irritating voices.

Her nonsense was no match for me after 15-years in education.

I had a blackbelt in faking tolerance and speaking with a smiling tone while I vividly imagined quite the opposite.

She surrendered her anger and illogical comments to e-mail. In her latest, I was informed she would not be purchasing until mid-April.

This woman, who I have called once since our appointment, has initiated contact with me each and every other of the nine times we communicated, and she “will not be pressured.”

Times must be tough in the mansion of The C’s. Perhaps her mind is slipping. I feel so badly for their struggles. I may just have to revisit some of those educator strategies used with struggling students.

Perhaps, I should check-in on her weekly via email or phone call, just to be sure all is well and say hello.

The C’s will probably not be able to purchase until mid-forever-ever, but there’s no reason I should forget about my penpal until then.