[I'm in the kitchen and hear a knock at the door. I wasn't expecting anyone, we rarely get drop-ins, and one of my housemates was home, so I figure it's for her and ignore it. Then the doorbell rings. I wait, assuming the housemate will get it. She doesn't. So I go over and open the door to someone I've never seen before.]
Me: Hi.
Her: Hi.
Me: [blank stare]
Her: I'm here for a massage.
Me: [The blank stare comes back for a bit while my mind races, trying to come up with an appropriate response.]
Her: Am I at the wrong house?
Luckily at about the same time, I think of the woman down the street who gives massages and direct her there. But I sort of wish I would have invited her in and had her lie down on the couch in the living room. Or maybe the broken futon in the back room. I wonder how long it would have taken her to realize I wasn't a licensed massage person. Or if I could have made some money off of her.
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