My Very Heated Conversation

A smartly dressed woman just came to my door trying to rent me a $1,300 water heater. I told her I wasn’t interested as I owned my own.

She was aggressive and started with the types of questions that insinuate that I am a total fool for not considering her offer.

“Why would I rent my water heater?” I asked her. “I don’t rent other appliances such as my furnace or washer and dryer.”

Yes, but, she said, with her offer, I would never have to worry about repairs or replacement (things I don’t worry about now). If it breaks down, they fix it; if it wears out, I get a new one. No charge.

“When my water heater busts, I’ll phone up my plumber and get a new one.”

Yes, but, she wondered, did I know how much it costs to repair a water heater. “No, I don’t, but I’ll just phone the plumber. He’ll know. We’ve had people in before to repair our washer and dryer and furnace. What’s the difference?”

Well, time for one final zinger.

“Eighty-five per cent of people in Ontario rent their water heaters,” said my antagonist. “They do that for a reason. They can’t be all wrong.”

It considered arguing the idea that 85 per cent of people couldn’t be wrong about a matter such as this, but my patience was a thin as I wish I still was in my 20s.

This is not the first time a door-to-door salesperson has basically called me stupid, except, unlike one lovely young guy, she didn’t actually use the word.

My electric water heater is 16 years old and probably about to die. In the 14 years I rented it before I bought it out for $75, it cost me almost $1,700. My plumber says he can give me a new one installed for $600.

I like my plumber better than the total stranger I talked to today. My plumber’s name is Butch (really).

My kind of guy! He isn’t the type of man who could sell pay toilets in the diarrhea ward of a hospital. He’d just install the pay toilets and send you the bill.

You’d be happy to pay it.

©2011 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.