Double glazing

You are about to sign on the dotted line for some double glazing. Just before your pen hits the paper, a concerned neighbour rings to inform you that the small print will actually give the company maintenance rights over your entire house for the rest of time, and that you will spend all of your life paying for things that you neither want or need, that have been deemed necessary by the company. What’s worse, they say, the directors of the company are corrupt, siphon off large amounts of your cash, and the contract is so far reaching that they will, in fact, have control of your entire life.

The double glazing company call and you discuss your neighbours concerns. They dismiss him, saying that he has always been sceptical about double glazing, is prejudiced against the company directors because they are from foreign parts, and is a bit of a nutter. They reassure you that when you examine the small print, no such provisions exist.

The salesman calls with the contract. You notice that the small print has a self-adhesive cover over it. You ask for it to be removed, so that you can examine it. The salesman refuses, saying that you don’t have time, and warns you that if you don’t sign, you won’t have the same windows as all of your neighbours, and everyone will laugh at you. He further explains that people who have refused to sign have often seen themselves snubbed in the neighbourhood, and their properties fall into disrepair, because ‘they are the only repair company in town’. You protest that you know a nice Indian chap in the nest village who is great at house maintenance. The salesman explains that he won’t be allowed onto your estate, because he doesn’t have the right permits.

Again you ask if you and your family can scrutinise the small print. He again refuses, and openly wonders if you are actually like your xenophobic neighbour.

Do you sign the contract? John Redwood thinks perhaps not.