I, like most people, have said stuff I regret, obsessed over times I shared too much, and have probably lost out on friendships because the other person crossed my path when I was feeling too tired, too grouchy, or too manic to socialize correctly. Thus, there are surely plenty of people out there who, if they think of me at all, think of me as that rude, stupid, lazy, and/or annoying person they encountered that one day.

As the saying goes, you only get one chance to leave a good impression, and I know for a fact that I’ve blown it many times. There was the time when, as a young mother, another mom at the playground started chatting me up as we pushed our kids on the swings. She seemed really nice, but I’d already made up my mind that I was getting the hell out of the stupid city we were living in, and all I could think while we chatted was, “You’re too late! You already had your chance to be my friend.”

Another time I met a woman who reminded me so much of one of my best friends, that I deliberately distanced myself from her, just so that I wouldn’t creep her out by accidentally calling her by the wrong name and treating her as though I’d known her for a decade instead of just an hour, like one of those widowed husbands in a movie who tries to make his new bride look, talk, dress, and cook like his deceased wife.

I could go on for a lot, lot, longer about all the times I’ve fumbled potential friendships, but nothing I’ve ever said or done in the pursuit or rejection of social interactions has come close to what complete strangers have OFTEN done and/or said to ME.

I think maybe because I do have 1) a genuine curiosity about people and their thoughts, beliefs, and activities and 2) a strong aversion to conflict, I frequently find myself giving strangers a platform to tell me stories that are fascinating, terrifying, and in all likelihood, complete and utter bullshit.

Thus, I am able today to give you a 100% true (although edited for clarity and brevity) account of my encounter with The Termite Guy last week:

Termite Guy: No signs of infestation, no damage.

Me: All right good deal.

Termite Guy: I just need you to sign this paperwork here. Y’all are my last house of the day. Looking forward to going home and getting some rest after this.

Me: Oh, ok.

Termite Guy: Yep, I just got back to town this morning. I was in Odessa yesterday. Taking care of my wife’s dad. He’s a trucker, and he was in a bad accident last month.

Me: Oh, that’s a shame.

Termite Guy: Yeah, he was hit by another trucker. Some guy, an illegal, fell asleep at the wheel. He was on drugs, too. Like meth and Red Bull. He hit my father in law right behind the cab, so it swung the front part of the truck around and the two cabs crashed into each other, driver’s side to driver’s side. The other guy got crushed to death, but he kind of deserved it, you know? No big loss. But my father in law, he’s pretty messed up. Can’t work. So my wife and I gotta go take care of him.

Me: Okey dokey then, well, thank you for–

Termite Guy: I used to work for Uber, too, to make a little extra money. But I don’t do that anymore. Too dangerous. Yeah, the last time I was out, I got a ride request from this sweet-looking old grandma, but when I pulled up to the curb, there was just a young black guy standing there. And so I just keep going, because this ain’t the grandma, know what I’m saying? And I’m in my Spider, so I’m not stopping. Then I look back and I see three more of this guy’s friends and every single one of them’s got a gun.

Me: Uh…

Termite Guy: And now they’re firing at me! Cops counted ’em up afterwards. I had 189 bullets in my car.

Me: …uh, so…

Termite Guy: Yeah, I left them as a stain on the sidewalk. See, what they didn’t know is that I was also packing. I keep an AR-15 in my trunk. So when they blew out my back tires, I was three blocks away and I crashed. But I called 911, and the operator was on the line and I told her I had a license to own a gun and that I was being fired upon and I was going to defend myself. And she said that was okay. So that’s what I did. Because I hunt. I have a scope on that gun. I got them all from three blocks away. 1-2-3-4 pow pow pow pow. And that was that.

Me: Well, good thing you have this job now, instead, I guess. So anyway–

Termite Guy: Oh yeah, and it’s a good job. There’s always going to be termites. Maybe not in this particular neighborhood, but out here you gotta watch out for scorpions. Yeah, a buddy of mine put his foot inside his shoe and bam! Got stung right between the nail and the toe. It swelled up so bad and got infected and finally he had to have it amputated.

Me: Well, that is most unfortunate.

He also talked to us about his glee for killing deer and hogs (while not strictly vegetarian, my husband and I do restrict our dairy and meat consumption more than most Americans, so the joy of blowing up pigs just doesn’t really resonate with us.) Also, whatever you’re picturing in your head, Termite Guy was not white. While always startling, it’s unfortunately not surprising to hear disparaging remarks about minorities from white people. However, since this man was a minority himself, it made his racist comments even stranger. Can someone be racist against their own race? I guess I’ll be googling that when I’m done here.

At this point, I was all filled up on small talk, so I did the cowardly thing and I said I need to go get my kid from school and left my husband to extract The Termite Guy from our kitchen and our lives. Later, my husband and I discussed at length our encounter with him, and we still had no idea if he was insane in the way of did he make all this up and believe it?; insane in the way of did he make all this up just to fuck with us?; or insane in the way of did all of this really happen and for some unknown reason he judged us as acceptable audience members, eager to hear all his disgusting, murderous, and way-too-personal stories?

I suppose I’ll never know. But before we invite a technician into our house again, I’m going to get some shirts made up that read, “Please do your job and then leave.” It’s rude, yes, but I don’t care. I do not want another potentially-armed and definitely-crazy person hanging out inside my house for half an hour after their reason for being in my house has ended.

Even if it costs me a potential friendship.