“Well, you could speak to Mister Marsbury,” he said after a few seconds contemplation.
“That would be fine.”
“He’s not here now.”
What a fucking moron! “Well, do you know when he’ll be back? Will it be today?”
He smiled and nodded. “Yes, probably in about fifteen minutes. Do you want to wait for him?”
No, I asking because I’m just checking up on you! I was rapidly losing patience. This kid was what we called in the Army a ‘soup sandwich.’ “Please. Do you have a demo unit I could go through while I wait?”
“Sure, we have one right across the street. You’ll be able to learn about living in Maplewood Manor.”
“I’m not moving into Maplewood Manor, remember? Listen, when he gets back, send him over to find me.”
“You want me to send him over there?”
“Please.”
“Well, okay, I guess I can ask him.”
I just shook my head and walked out of the office and across the street in the development to the demo unit. At least in the Army you have to pass an IQ test to get in. That did not seem to be the case at Pulte Homes. It was not an auspicious beginning.
The demo unit was a nice looking home. I knew enough construction to figure out that if they were cutting any corners they were well hidden, and the specs listed on the brochures were certainly adequate. We’d be looking for some items on the higher end, but not because this stuff was bad. I looked through some literature and samples while keeping an eye out through the window back to the office. After about fifteen minutes a car pulled up at the sales office and a fellow in his forties got out and went inside, after glancing at my car parked there. A few minutes later he came out and walked across the street towards me.
He came inside. “Hello?” he called out.
I came around the corner from the kitchen. “Hello.”
“Mister Buckner?”
“Buckman, Carl Buckman.”
He just rolled his eyes for a second and stuck out his hand. “Bill Marsbury. Pleased to meet you.”
“Same here. What name did Scott give you?”
Marsbury rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, sorry about that. He misheard you as Charles Buckner.”
I simply smiled. “Is he somebody’s relative?” I ventured.
I got a sharp look and a smile from that. “The project foreman’s nephew. I just haven’t had the heart to let the foreman know he ain’t working out.”
“Hey, it happens.”
“He did say you wanted to build, but not here. Is that correct?”
“Yes, that’s it.” I filled him in on my plans. “Now, I’m looking for an outfit that will draw up the plans, build the house, and act as the GC. Can you do that, or if you can’t do you know who could. I’m not looking for a mansion, but I am looking for good solid workmanship and reliability.”
Marsbury had been nodding as I went through my ideas. “Sure, we can do that. We don’t get the same benefits of scale as when we do it here in a development, but it’s not out of the question. I’ll need to do a site appraisal before I can say for sure, and I’ll want to see the plans. Is this something you’ve gotten plans for already, or seen in a book of plans, or something?”
“Marilyn — she’s my wife — and I have been through a few books and I’ve penciled a few things out. I don’t have anything with me, but this was a spur of the moment drive. I was talking to my lawyer and he suggested I get one of the big professional outfits to do a turnkey for me. I saw the sign as I was heading home.”
“Well, we’re a big professional outfit. We can build you your house. I’ll need to see your drawings. When can you come in with them? Or would it be better for me to visit you?”
As much as Scott had been unimpressive, Bill Marsbury was the opposite. This guy had his shit tightly packed. I could work with this guy. “Which is more convenient for you?”
“Where do you live?”
It would be easier to do this if he could visit us. That way we wouldn’t have to pack Charlie up for a trip. He promised to come out Thursday afternoon. We shook hands and I left feeling good about it.
My reception was a little mixed back at the town house. I filled Marilyn in on my day. It was disconcerting to her that I didn’t have a regular nine-to-five job with a fixed schedule, but she would get used to that very quickly. I had often had a very flexible schedule at Lefleur Homes, with going to different lots and seeing customers and traveling to job sites. No, Marilyn wasn’t quite used to the idea of having money and being able to spend it.
Marilyn wanted me to get competitive bids on the house construction. Me, I could care less. This was just one of those differences in us. I was always going to be much more concerned with speed, quality, workmanship, reliability, and other such factors. Price, simple cash amounts, was way down on my list. Life was too short to worry about saving money on every possible thing. I can remember back on the first go-around, when we were going to have a party and she spent half a day going from store to store to find the absolute best deal on tiki torches. I remember asking her afterwards, “So you spent four hours and ten bucks in gas, driving all around Utica, to save five bucks on tiki torches? Do I have that right?” She tried to argue, but it totally failed.
On the plus side, this was one of my benefits as a salesman and sales manager. Research shows that you sell the same way you buy. The salesman who goes to five separate stores looking for the absolute best bargain on something for his own use will also be the salesman who thinks it is perfectly acceptable to send a customer on his way who wants to ‘think about it’ a little more. Fine, send them on their way, right until they land in front of me, and I ask them ‘What are you waiting for?’ and sell them something. I was never able to convince my wife of this, and we often had lively arguments about sales techniques. One thing she couldn’t argue about was that I kept food on the table and kept my sales averages well above average.
Thursday afternoon, Marsbury showed up on time. Marilyn was closest to the door, and she let him in. I heard him introduce himself, and then he was inside. “Honey, Mister Marsbury is here!” she cried out.
Charlie fussed when he heard Marilyn’s voice. He was cutting teeth and tended to be cranky, another reason not to travel with him. I brought him towards the door, trying to soothe him, but he demanded Mommy as soon as he saw her. I motioned the builder in and gave my offspring back to Marilyn. “Come on in. Sorry about that.”
“That’s all right. Call me Bill. How old?”
“Charlie’s about six months or so. I’m Carl, of course, and this is my wife Marilyn.”
Marilyn shook his hand while juggling our son. “Sorry about this, but Charlie’s teething and gets cranky. I’m glad we can do this here.”
“It’s my pleasure. You’re very close to my office. Where do you want to do this?”
“Let’s sit around the dining room table,” I suggested, and led the way. We settled around the table, and I looked over at Marsbury, who dug a scratch pad out of his briefcase, along with a pen.
“Let me ask you a few questions, first. Would that be alright?” he asked.
Good technique, ask permission to quiz the buyer. I was liking this guy. “Please.”
“Where specifically do you plan to build? Do you have the property now?”
I nodded. “We are in the process now. Our offer has been accepted and we will be closing in a week or two. In the meantime we can access the site; it’s just bare land right now, no improvements.”
“Where precisely is it?”
“Out on Mount Carmel Road, in Hereford, out near the county line. It’s still in Baltimore County, though.”