It’s 9:08 a.m. on a Saturday, and I should be in the midst of a meeting with a fellow with whom I made an appointment to do some work on my home. A neighbor used him, and told me he did a decent job. She also told me that he talked too much.

Me: Does he take a hint to stop?

Her: No, not at all.

Me: So what should I do?

Her: The only way to get him to stop is to tell him to stop talking. Anything less direct and he doesn’t get it.

Me: So just tell him to shut up?

Her: Pretty much. Or stand there for an hour and listen to him talk about nonsense that means nothing to you.

Me: Got it.

It wasn’t that I didn’t care that he was a talker, but that my options were limited.  Following Hurricane Sandy, there were things to be fixed.  I called about, but couldn’t get anyone on the line. No one even called back. For the moment, the people who fixed things were in great demand, and didn’t need the work. They would, of course, need the work later, after they milked the storm for all it was worth, and then they would come begging, hat in hand, for any work they could find.  But for the moment, they were in demand.

Being a principled person, I had a problem with calling people in the spring who were too important to return my call in the fall, which is why I sought my neighbor’s advice. She had someone I didn’t call, and therefore it wouldn’t violate my sense of propriety to contact him now.

Dr. SJ had seen the work done at the neighbors, and thought it looked fine.  Speak with her, Dr. SJ commanded me. Find out her person and call him, she implored. So I did.

He returned my call a day after I left him a message, and we spoke briefly, with him asking me to email him my address and contact information, and then launching into a description of the wonders of his services. I cut him short by telling him I had to go, and sent off the email.

I heard nothing back for a week. I sent him another email, asking if he received the first.  He responded by suggesting that we meet today, and asked if that was good with me and for a time. I replied that it was good and gave him a time of 9 a.m.  He sur-replied “perfect, see you then.”

And here I am, typing on a computer instead of meeting with him because he called me at 8:55 a.m. to tell me he was running late for our first meeting.  He launched into an explanation of the many very important things he had to do this morning that caused him to run late to our appointed meeting, but I told him to stop talking.  He sounded hurt.

At least he called.