<html> At 09:59 AM 12/30/2005 -0800, you wrote: <blockquote type=cite class=cite cite>OK, gang. Here's my last question for this year. Is there a filth level at which point you refuse to work on the piano? Or, for that matter, even enter the home?  <SNIP> So, have any of you ever refused to enter a home because of filth? Or refused to work on a piano because there was more dirt inside than you were willing to take care of? Or perhaps even just because you get a real bad vibe from the people? And what do you tell them?   -- Geoff Sykes -- Assoc. Los Angeles</blockquote> Geoff,    The key to the answer for your question(s) is that you need to know in advance where your tolerance level stands. Because..... the standing in the doorway dithering thing is what gets you in the door. If you have a firm idea in mind of what your willing to put up with, then you don't need an excuse, or an argument, or a debate, or even to be judgmental. Really. If you can tell from outside, then turn around and leave. Call the customer from the next block and suggest they find someone else, and you're sorry to have altered their schedule. If you can tell when the door opens, or as you are entering, then just say "Please call someone else" and leave. No comment, no discussion, no response to taunting or derogatory remarks. Just leave.   The thing is, and there's quite a bit written on the subject, that you need to react to YOUR reality window and priority system. Not theirs. We all know the phrase "Lack of planning on your part doesn't constitute an emergency on my part", and the priority system you live by is the same thing. Knowing it ahead of time saves you a lot of heartache and stress. You don't even have to think about it afterwards. You did the "right" thing for you and your life, and no one got hurt.   Yeah, some of these calls are people who need music and understanding, but some are major health hazards that aren't worth dying for!   I think one of my worst was a move of a three-legged spinet from a mobile near a KOA camp. The place was full of drunk bikers, and the orange shag carpet squished when you walked on it, although it was hard to tell if was beer or cat pee. Started to shift the piano and two legs fell off. Luckily, it was a mini, and my help that day was up to the task of just setting it over onto the board, which was still on the dolly, because the ONLY thing that was getting on that floor was the wheels. Whew. When we got the truck moving away from that place, my helper turned and said "That was surreal." Yup.    Anyway, a phrase I've used, (and was a class title many years ago) is "Let's NOT find out." As in... let's not find out if I mind 10 yappy dogs, squishy carpets, a thousand teddy bears, patchouli o.d., polka practice, or a steady stream of narcotics customers. Split. Chill. Say "NEXT!" later, Guy</html>