The art of getting estimates, or, gender is a strange thing.

A disproportionate amount of my time this week has been devoted to hanging around the house waiting for men to come out and give me an estimate on how much money it will cost to fix something, that frankly, I don't know much about or how to do myself.

I recently read a book called the $64 Tomato. It was mostly about gardening, but throughout the book there were stories about dealing with contractors. At one point the author tells of his wife screaming at him to, "Go, hide! Quick!" as the contractor pulled up. Apparently having her be the lone woman asking for an estimate had worked to their advantage.

This got me wondering, is there an advantage to the woman being the point person for contractors? (Obviously there are numerous disadvantages), but I am curious to know more about the experiences of the folks who are reading this. Is there a sense of "Well you should just be able to do this yourself," if a man gets the estimate from another man? If the two men (contractor and customer) are of the same age, when do class differences affect the outcome? Can a women get a better quote by her ability to pass as unskilled (even if she knows all about the task)? Will she get a worse quote because they think she's less likely to have any concept? I would also imagine that there is an element of them interviewing/observing you. What items are in your home that convey wealth? What gives them the impression that you can afford to pay top dollar, or will pay top dollar? What makes them identify with you and want to share tips and tell you how to do stuff yourself for free because they don't want to charge you for something they know is totally stupid?

Do any of you have tips or ideas or strategies or stories?

The Adventure Begins...

We inherited an alarm system that was installed with the house. Since the service account was turned off, we were just left with a blinking keypad. There was a "On/Off" button. Andy pushed it. Then the alarm went off. This thing was louder than god. After scrambling around and finally cutting the wire to the ceiling sensor upstairs, we thought it was off. Then it started again. Where the hell was it coming from? The keypad itself. We pulled the power cord out of the wall. The alarm was still going off. HOW CAN AN ALARM STILL GO OFF IF IT'S UNPLUGGED?! And why, why, why is it so loud? Oh yeah. To drive off burglers. Then the folks on the phone from Sloman's say that there must be some sort of power box hidden in the basement. Finally found it, and Andy dismantled it. No more alarm. For now. I still am scared it's going to start beeping again. If I hear that noise again I am afraid one of us will just take a hammer to it.