So here we are in Episode 2. I didn’t think there would be another episode to the men rant, but there is because I need to get this off my chest. Out of my system, so to speak, so I can sleep tonight. If you recall the last men rant, you may remember that the rant has nothing to do with the men I love, especially the one who leaves tissues, screws and pencils in pants pockets for me to find in the washer. Believe me it is the tissues that make me crazy! The same one that has a garage that requires a map to find anything. This is not about that guy.
It is, once again, about the tradesmen who have been coming and going in my house for the past several months, repairing the damage from the leaky pipe. May we never again have a leaky pipe that doesn’t present itself until that kind of damage is done. May we never again have a leaky pipe period.
There has been a flurry of men in and out of here over the past week or so with bathroom tiles and floors being put down. With new baseboards nailed in place and some other trim replaced. And believe me, we are very happy that this is getting done because really, and I mean REALLY, this has gone on long enough.
But honestly couldn’t there be a more careful and efficient way of doing things. The bathroom tiles could not be finished because there was men-made damage to the fiberglass shower base that required repair. These men were hoping the floor tiles would cover the damage. If I could look at it and know that wouldn’t work, you would think that these men, who measure all day long could figure that out too. There was also some electrical work that still needed to be done before the wall tiles could be completed. Scheduling and communication skills are really lacking in these industries.
The new wood floors were put down and everything, including the main floor because of the open concept layout, became covered with sawdust due to the fact that even though the men cut the wood outside, they left the door open. The Doc and I put the original wood floor down with a lot less mess. And we are not professionals.
On Wednesday, while one man put down baseboard, another couple showed up to work on the bathroom. They placed and leveled the vanity and put in the low wall in front of the tub. The tub, by the way, is still sitting on the carpet of the downstairs bedroom. Unfortunately they put this small tub-fronting wall in forgetting, or not knowing, that it is a wall that needs to be removable to allow for access. They effectively made it impossible for the plumber and electrician to do their jobs once the tub is back in place. How’s that for communication. And remember, the tile still isn’t finished in that bathroom.
So on Thursday the vanity and wall had to be torn back out to make this change It is pretty frustrating when I am downstairs trying to explain how to put this panel back in to the man who ripped it out (not the same guy who previously put it in). This man, who upon tearing it out, just turned it around trying to make it work leaving open gaps and messy unfinished wood, all the while implying that we would have to finish it ourselves and hoping that we would say that it looked ok.
This particular man already wasn’t in my good books because just two days before he called for one us to come down, and when he saw me coming, he literally asked if he could, “speak to the man.” I wanted to scream. Another tradesman who doesn’t like to listen to a woman. Of course when The Doc went down, I went too, and you can be damn sure that I put in my two cents worth. It was more like twenty-bucks worth because I am the detail person in this house. This man wasn’t happy so he was no longer being careful. He was cutting indoors letting sawdust go everywhere. He was priming and painting without adhering to drying guidelines. He was banging into things like freshly painted walls.
This morning (Friday) we were not expecting anyone; but nevertheless, people showed up. The cleaners and the movers. And I am thinking… but, but, but… the work is not finished. I believe all of this came about because The Doc made a call to get access to his fishing gear. Here is where I bite my tongue.
So here we are. The cleaners did a very minimal job cleaning–I know I have a huge job ahead of me to actually clean this place. The movers, all young guys brought our stuff in and just left it. One of these young men, I am old enough to be his mother or possibly grandmother if I had started early, had the audacity to call me, “Darlin,” TWICE!
WTF! What kind of mother brings up a man who calls a random woman Darlin? And what can you say or do when they are handling your stuff. And speaking of stuff, I have already noticed damage to some of our furniture. All I can say (scream) is, MEN!!!!!!!!!!!
Thank you for reading.
Photos: Jenn Stone