Dear World: Being an Adult is Largely a Very Long Game of Trying to Not Get F*cked Over

I’m Ash, and I’m a writer, traveler, nonconformist & nomad, and every week I’m sharing funny field notes from around the world. Currently, I’m in America writing about what it’s been like to return home to my small town, twenty years after living abroad.

Being an adult is largely a very long game of trying to not get fucked over. (And also saying “no worries” when in fact, there are several.)

Remember DOOR GUY? Who wanted $24,000 to replace two exterior doors? And remember when I emailed to say, “no, thanks,” and he CALLED ME, instead?

Don’t you know I’m a millennial? I’ve survived recessions, pandemics, and dial-up. I refuse to survive a phone call from a stranger.

(The worst offense.)

And remember how I was like, “DON’T CALL ME, I DON’T WANT YOUR DOORS, MISTER!”

Which somehow feels like trying to fend off a sexual predator? Because we alllllll know that the phone call is a grabby attempt at getting you to change your mind; to give in; to let it happen.

Was right. The voicemail he left went like this:

Hardy, har, harrrrrr, I would never want you to feel uncomfortable with your purchase, but whether you go through us or somebody else, you’re going to want to get those doors ordered now before the beginning of the year, because you know, prices are going up! And I would hate for you to pay more! Another suggestion: maybe we just do one door? Just the back of the cottage for now? We can do it in phases. You know, ease into it. Maybe start with a hinge. A test hinge. Just to see how it feels. No pressure!

I mean, he didn’t SAY that last part, but that’s what it felt like: some sad guy who peaked in high school trying to get down your pants.

And then I am infuriated because I hate when pushy people don’t accept my “no.”

Especially because I am always kind when I issue a solid, standard-grade “no.” This, to me, seems like an act of mercy. But, maybe mercy is the problem. Maybe I must resort to becoming one of those cold, hard Siberian ice queens who keeps her thermostat at 58 degrees and her standards at 99, and sharpens her eyeliner with the same knife she uses to cut people out of her life.

Maybe kindness is just a gateway drug to exhaustion.

SO THEN I CALLED DOOR GUY #2.

A guy from Window World, despite feeling very, very bad doing business with a company actually called “Window World.” That is like doing business with a financial planner called “Money Zone.”

However, Door Guy #2 shows up and I instantly like him more. The reasons are numerous:

1. There is no sparkly sales guy performance.
2. He gets out his measuring tape and gets to work (unlike Door Guy #1, who was going to send a special guy to measure).
3. He talks real talk to me about the rotted sill plate underneath the cottage door, getting his hands dirty and pulling off pieces of wood and then telling me how we can fix it.
4. He gives me two options on two different brands of doors, but then straight up says: you really don’t need the more expensive one, it’s the same product, and would do fine for you here.
5. And then, gives me a quote. NOT just for two exterior doors, but actually? For three exterior doors (another one is badly needed for the cottage), plus a brand-new window that actually opens and has a screen (because the cottage has this one silly little window above the sink that DOES NOT OPEN. WHYYYYYY?????) Not for $24,000 for two doors. But for three exterior doors and a window for $13K. This seems better, I think. I am relieved.

Bug guy stops in yesterday.

Bug guy has opinions about things. Lots of opinions.

Including Window World.

“They won’t even spray foam around the jambs!” he says, exasperated. “They’ll take a shortcut and just caulk, and then all of your windows will have moisture all over them in the winter!”

I don’t know what to make of this. Bug guy is a bit of a…drama queen. Last month, with his very Eeyore-esque disposition—think disillusioned philosopher trapped in pest control with wire-rimmed glasses and a roly-poly figure—he told me that my attempts at sealing up any cracks and crevices were really just an act of false hope; that the foundation needed to be re-done; that this wall was pushing; that I was essentially living in a soft pretzel with plumbing.

HE IS ONE HELL OF A CHEERLEADER, LEMME TELL YOU.

It is hard to decipher what is true, and what is bug guy being bug guy: someone who seems to want to point out all the flaws in an attempt to feel powerful; knowledgeable; seen. Have you ever met someone who finds fault with everything, just to keep their own insecurity from showing?

I don’t know, MAYBE I AM BEING HARD ON BUG GUY. MAYBE BUG GUY IS RIGHT. MAYBE I AM A BUG.

But no matter what, I cannot deny that homeownership really is one hell of a personal development course: you are always learning how to be smarter, stronger, more capable. You are always proving to yourself that you are, in fact, a badass bitch who can do hard things. You are always giving yourself evidence that you can become an all-new person just by doing the kinds of things that other people do.

You paint 100 walls, you are going to know how to paint a wall.
You say “no” 100 times, you start to get good at it.
You trust yourself 100 times, you start to live like you do.

Life is really just about getting the reps in.

Do more in the direction you want it to go, and do less in the direction you don’t.

Because the real way to not get fucked over?

Is to make sure that no one can outwork you when it comes to the things you love most.

If you love writing, go write.
If you love photography, go snap.
If you love painting, go paint.
If you love travel, go travel.
If you love houses, go buy one.

Make things happen for yourself. Do 100 reps. Do 100 more. Be the scrappiest person in the room. Decide to figure it out. Most of the good in this life starts with a good decision.

But, you’re the only one who knows what that is.