Lately, I’ve developed what must be termed testicular fortitude. Yes, I’ve grown myself a set. I’ve always wanted a pair and now I have some BIG brass ones.
I struggle with being the decider. I prefer the path of least resistance but I’m not a doormat so don’t mess with me. A man, who made the mistake of telling me he was in the state legislature for two terms, another pig at the trough, called me to request our services. He had the audacity to tell me that he would direct us. Unlikely. He questioned the contract I sent to him without bothering to read it first. He ran his flapper without first engaging his brain.
I spoke in a very even tone, telling him directly that I wouldn’t be sending anyone anywhere near him until I had a signed contract. I went a bit further when I told him that I didn’t need his work. “If you decide you’d like to work with us, sign the contract and call me. Thanks very much for your time. Bye.”
He called my husband today and told him what a good conversation he’d had with me yesterday. Contract executed.