There are three types of calls I do not like receiving. One is from a telephone solicitor, another is from someone wanting a ride to the airport at 5 in the morning, and the third is from someone who does not own a pick up or van wanting help moving something that will not fit into his or her car. Of the three, I usually prefer the telephone solicitor.

My buddy Donnie called me with a unique approach. He asked, "Can you help me get a storm door for my mom's house, or do you want to loan me your van?"

"I'll help you," I answered. "What time?"

"What works best for you," he asked?

"About 7," I suggested.

"Too late," he said.

We could have saved about five minutes of dickering if he had just told me he needed to go right then. I drove to his mom's house, took him to the store, and then dropped him and the storm door back off at his mom's house.

The next day Donnie called again. "I need you to come get me so we can take the door back and exchange it for one the right size," he tells me.

"You bought the wrong sized door," I asked a bit puzzled?

He explained that his mom remembered it was a 36 inch door when his dad had replaced it years earlier. He told me, "It's way too big. I should have known better than to listen to my mom! I should have bought the 30 inch door in the first place."

I agreed.

I drove to his mom's house to get him and the door, back to the store so he could trade it for a 30 inch model, and back to his mom's house. I stopped in to say hi to his mom, and listened to her talk about how the door must have shrunk, and how stupid the store was to sell the wrong sized door. I considered that she was the same lady who once asked me what she could paint on another door to make it smaller. All I could do was plead ignorance.

About an hour later, Donnie called to tell me he got the wrong size door again! Donnie does not embarrass easily, so I actually looked forward to this trip! I helped get the door into the van, and started my chiding!

"You know there are only three standard size doors, don't you," I asked?

"Yeah, I know," he replied.

"You know you bought the wrong size twice, don't you," I goaded?

"Yeah Tom, I know that," he retorted. "What's your point?"

"My point is that they are going to laugh at you like you're an idiot when you return this for the third size," I exclaimed with a chuckle!

"No they won't; I have that figured out." He explained, "I'm telling them it was missing a piece, and I'm never shopping in their store again. Then you're taking me to another store."