I’d like to think I’m an equal partner with my husband. He’s just as much of a feminist as I am, which is an awesome trait to share.
But, if a salesman comes a knocking on the door, I resort back to the 1950’s housewife I never was, “Oooh I can’t make a decision without my husband here”. It’s the perfect way to send them on their way without me actually being mean to them.
So Mr. Solar Panel, Mr. Kirby, Mr. Meat Man, if the master of the house isn’t present, don’t even bother coming up the drive.