Some months ago the roofer was out to show Colleen and me the various colors available for our metal roof. We liked something metallic (it is after all, a metal roof), but not so shiny it was blinding when you looked at it, so we went with Dove Gray. On Thursday, Colleen and I received an email from our PM saying, and I quote, “[Colleen’s dad] is not happy with the color choice for the roof and has stopped the process at this point. [The roofer] says [Colleen's dad] is not in favor of the dove gray color.” End of email. The following is, in order, the two thoughts Colleen and I had immediately:
1. That doesn’t sound like Colleen’s dad.
2. Who hates Dove Gray? It’s so bland and inoffensive. What did it ever do to you?
Colleen immediately called her dad, who was as surprised at this turn of events as we were, and got the full story (well, not so much the ‘full’ story as the actual story). The roofer’s assistant showed up to do some basic measuring. He, like his boss, was a very pleasant man who spoke virtually no English. In passing conversation the guy pointed at the blue roof across the street and said "We have that," to which Dad replied (correctly) that we didn't want that. Somehow, this translated to “I hate the color that has been chosen for our roof (even though I’ve never seen it since you didn’t bring any samples with you) and want you to leave immediately and never return.” A quick phone call to the PM straightened things out, but we’re not sure how much work time was lost since the measuring guy had already left.