Budget Lawn Care

So...I was sitting naked at my desk this morning (what? I'd just gotten out of the bath...completely reasonable to check Facebook before getting dressed) and the doorbell rings. There was a brief moment when I debated whether to ignore it or answer it...I mean, I really should have ignored it, at that hour its usually Jehovah's Witnii (this is the accepted plural form of a singular Jehovah's Witness, and as they always travel in pairs, this is the preferential way to refer to them). But there are a few people in the neighborhood that occasionally pop by selling chocolates or cookies or whatnot...so I chanced it. I threw on a shirt and a pair of shorts and raced Lady to the door.

It was not a Jehovah's Witness or a chocolate-bearing youth. It was an elderly man...and he looked innocent enough through the peep hole. So I opened the door and he instantly asked for a job. Yeah, that's how he termed it, "Can I have a job mowing your lawn?" Now, its not unusual to get lawn guys soliciting their services...and this guy looked rough, so I felt a little guilty in rejecting him. But, just for future reference, should anyone out there ever decide to go door-to-door looking for work in the lawn care field. First impressions are everything...in fact, the minute that door opens, the interview begins. So, don't show up to an interview wearing something that looks as if its never even seen a washing machine, don't come with a bottle of beer in a paper bag, don't smoke a cigarette, and definitely do not let your mangy mutt try to nose his way into a potential employer's home. Its just bad for business. But the biggest concern was this guy didn't have a lawnmower, a weed eater, or any other equipment necessary to his intended profession...so, I inferred that his intention was to use my lawn care items. Great idea! I'll just let an intoxicated transient roam around in my yard, scare the neighborhood kids with his swagger and unkempt look, flick his cigarette butts on the grass while his dog tries to hump Lady and leaves a pile right in line with the front door. Riiiiiight.

So, I politely told him that I didn't live here--which is true-- and that he should come back at 6pm. I'll let Steve deal with him.