I Love New York!
September 14th, 2005I’m having those move-away-from-New-York-forever moments. The biggest issue of living here that drives me up the wall is housing (take note Democratic Primary candidates with the ability to reverse time and thus, get my vote yesterday)... we pay astronomical rent and yet, live like animals. My apartment in particular is comically lacking in things like running water, heat, ammenities and competantly-assembled carpentry.
The latest lacking now is the oft-broken shower, which we’ve been living with for two weeks (from time of complaint to the appearance of the “plumber”... before the complaint… several odd weeks of clangling pipes and errant water delivery). Fixing it has become even more of an ordeal since the management keeps sending the same trollish fellow to “fix” it. He’s already been here 3 times to fix it… previously ripping out the wall. He’s doing it again now and with his typical laissez-faire approach, stretches it out as long as possible. We haven’t had a wall in our bathroom for three days now, nor a faucet. This is better than the time when he removed our toilet for two days, meaning any shitting or pissing options in the vicinity were limited to Renaissance/St Patrick’s Day style (out the window) or going down then up 6 flights of stairs. I still would like a shower… I stink of blood and desperation.
The first day he strolled in at the crack of noon, banged on the wall for an hour. Soldered some pipes. And then left at 5 PM with no wall, no faucet. I expressed irritation that it was not done and he burbled and rambled—he speaks no human tongue I can identify—and then left. The next day desiring to make a good impression, he appeared at 11:45 and asked for a key.I said I would wait in the apartment and I didn’t want to give the plumber a key and he started rambling and I have no idea what he was saying. Sounded like his delivery guy was coming and he needed the key to get the supplies in (which I suppose COULD makes sense… multiple trips downstairs)? Anyway, he started demanding I make him a key and I had just had it at that point and went out and got it, really mad.
I got the key and gave it to him and he sat around for like an hour as far as I could tell. I went in my room and fumed by the AC but when I checked outside for the lack of noise, I discovered he had just taken off… left my front door wide open too. He didn’t come back, he didn’t even touch the shower. I guess having his own key now allows him to do WHATEVER HE WANTS. He didn’t say anything about leaving or coming back or WHEN he was coming back.
The gallingest element is Trollo keeps saying “one day job… one day job” whenever he starts these.
I wish NASA would perfect maintainence droids so we would mulch all organic plumbers into pigfeed and axle grease.
September 16th, 2005 at 12:57 pm
You need our plumber but unfortunately he doesn’t leave Texas. It took about a week but he did the shower & sink plus ripped out and replaced all the grotty old steel piping for the rest of the house. He came back a few times to clean sand out of the lines that was messing with some of the valves. We paid for all that but at least the job’s done and it all works.
Our tile guy spoke maybe three words of english but did a good job on the shower surround & floor. However, I recognized his tounge as spanish (of which I know only menu words) so we did a bit of pantomime together until I understood that I shouldn’t walk on the tile because it wasn’t set yet and that’s he’d come back tomorrow to finish it. Or at least that’s what I wanted to believe he said.
Speaking as someone born in western NY and who lived outside of Philly for a few years, I recommend that northeast ‘craftsmen’ should stick with woodworking & rustic furniture construction a la The New Yankee Workshop and avoid complex tasks such as plumbing, paving, tilework, framing, roofing, wiring, and hanging drywall. Your subcompetent tradesmen don’t have enough natural predators to thin out their population to a reasonable level. I’m not sure it’s legal to crossbreed building inspectors and cougars, but it might help in the short term, though tampering with nature often leads to consequences both horrific and unintended.
Regardless, we feel your pain. Using the portajohn in the front lawn felt like being at a Bon Jovi concert out at the fairgrounds; all I needed was a plastic cup of Bud Light, half a pack of Marlboros, no shirt, and a vocubulary consisting of “Dude!”