These people are, however, first time customers. And probably last time. When the lady called to discuss the dates, she kept dd on the phone for almost two hours. I know that teenaged girls love to talk on the phone, but not to old ladies who yammer on about their husbands. She finally got off the phone after setting up a date to go meet the diabetic cat she'd be watching.
DH took her down to meet the cat, and spent another hour or two listening to her yammer. They mentioned that the cat was sick, but they'd still need her to watch the two dogs, even if the cat croaked. Which it did. But this didn't stop the lady of the house from giving dd a six page manifesto of the requirements of the job.
Included in said document were about a gazillion details, including:
Her friend read the manifesto and said "welcome to Hell."
Then she had to have another two hour meeting with the lady of the house, so that she could show her how to use the alarm (which took five minutes) and show her the miniscule details that she'd already outlined in the manifesto. Hubby calls me on my cell in the middle of this meeting and says "what do you think of that house? They have a lotta crap, don't they?" Like I can answer, with this lady prattling on about how the cat vomited on the vintage wedding dress in her sitting room, including what said vomit looked like. It was a special moment.
The dear girl is definitely earning her pay this time -- and is promptly jacking up her rates, to show her displeasure at being asked to imprison herself there again, for twelve days, next month. Nevermore, sayeth the raven haired one.
At least the dogs seem nice. And her dog seems to be dealing with her absence fairly well, despite his normal separation anxiety, and an earthquake to boot. And so, in honor of my bratty gurl, and the cajones it takes to deal with crazy old ladies, here's a cool hunting themed novelty print skirt, from my favorite seller here locally, cause she named her store after me: Old & Beautiful.