I’ve recently joined the ranks of those doing some remodeling. In the past, my husband and I were born under the curse, believing we must do everything ourselves and never hire out a job. We’re middle children, and basically believe we’re here to solve all the problems in the world. We’ve owned three homes in our long marriage, and rehabbed the first two. In the case of this one, the last few years the old place is showing some wear and we’re playing catch up in getting it in shape. We’ve succumbed to hiring experts and I must admit it’s great having someone to do the work. My husband has more of a psychological struggle hiring help than I do as much of this was once his job. “You still have personal worth on the planet,” I’ve assured him.
It’s not just the remodeling I find difficult, sometimes it’s the people doing the work. They have all been great guys. But they often don’t show up when they say they will. And…I want to be nice but golly gee. I’m glad Jesus died for me.
I have been careful to pick well recommended and established companies. I’ve checked them out with others who have used them. And I’ve had a couple of projects completed to satisfaction but I’ve decided this–you’re just so happy the job is finished you suck up the complaints and move on. Then when someone sees the new kitchen, basement redo, whatever, and it looks good, you pass on a glowing recommendation because you say, “They do nice work.”
Yeah, but you forget nights like I had last night. It’s hard to write about it because he’s here now and I’m still living this. But he was going to lay my hardwood after work last night. Well, he was going to rip up the old carpet to prep for laying the hardwood today. And…he never showed. Granted he was coming in the evening after finishing another job, but that was his idea, not mine. He’d insisted he could do all this. That was Friday. Same day my out of town company arrived. I apologized to them beforehand. Sorry. I’m not hoarding. This is all the furniture from my family room, currently stacked in every other room because this is the weekend my flooring guy could get a big crew to lay my flooring. He’s starting this evening so you will get a front row seat.
So we watched for him and the kids climbed around on my stacks of furniture. And Flooring Guy never showed.
At nine pm I texted him. “Um…where the…are you?”
“Sorry,” he replied. “Stuck on job.”
At 9 pm? And what bar is that? My company chimed in. Then my company wanted to know what I was paying Flooring Dude to rip up the old carpet. When I told them they insisted they would do it for free!
I practically laid on the carpeting, arms spread, and insisted they leave it alone for Flooring Guy who promised to be there bright and early the next morning. I’d already paid him one third down and he was going to do this task and not my freaking company!
Okay. This morning Flooring Guy was here promptly at seven. But only because I had been stern. And I don’t want to be stern. Why do I have to end up being the witch with these guys just to make them do what they said they would do in the first place?
The flooring has been laid. It’s nice. The trim is still not in. Three weeks, they said. Getting the flooring done with company here was an adventure. Or really bad planning. Would I do it that way again? No idea.
I won’t go into the dirt. It’s been cleaned. I won’t go into the ant farm that fell out of the wall when they pulled up the carpet. The exterminator has been here. I won’t even share how we couldn’t walk on the floor once it was down…for twenty-four hours.
Because I’m moving on and looking to the next project. And yes, my guy does really good work.