The Waiting Game

I’m playing a game that must be played in your home. You have probably played it already but for newcomers, it goes like this. Something breaks and needs repairing replacement or alteration. You see if you can do the job yourself and after several weeks of failed attempts, you accept that since it isn’t the fuse in the plug or a loose cable behind the television then it is beyond your limited skillset to fix. Now you start the game. You seek out an expert.

The best experts to employ, or so it was said, were ones with a proven track record and as you have zero personal knowledge of said experts, you plumb your friends and family for recommendations. The Yellow Pages has had its day and the internet alone is too unreliable. Anyone can claim to be a plumber, set up a website and load with self-posted five-star customer reviews. One way or the other, I thought the word-of-mouth approach was the best and so it turned out to be.

The particular expert had done a wonderful job at a friend’s house and duly appeared one day to bid for the work to be started in two months. “Mid-summer, say June” I suggested. “No,” he said he was very busy, which I took to be a good sign. I agreed to wait and accepted a slot in his conveyor belt of customers for August. Sadly that slipped to September as he had good work undone by another expert’s visit to a previous customer and had to revisit.

The day the job finally started was a memorable one. Everyone was in high spirits and he arrived with his team, an experienced man and a young lad  He repeated verbatim the details of what would be done and emphasized that it had to be done right. He picked up on mistakes made by previous experts, mistakes I’d not noticed but now that he’d highlighted them they seemed obvious. How could I have missed them? More to the point, how had my structural engineers missed them when I bought the place? He seemed every bit as enthusiastic as I was about the final look and shape and I ended the day believing I’d made the right choice.

“Would it over-run?” I asked as he left, “as I have a holiday booked in mid-October.”

“I cannot afford to let it over-run” he answered “Time is money. I have priced this job for four weeks.”

“I’m just saying,” I said and that was the last I saw of him for eight days.

In fairness, he left another experienced man to carry on, with a young lad as his sidekick and that’s the way it stayed for nine days. On his return, he again did brilliant work, what a day and disappeared again for another six days.

Then, after many promises he managed to appear and work hard for three days on the trot before arriving late on the fourth, a Monday, to say he’d fired the other man. He’d be doing it all himself and the young lads. I thought “Well, maybe this is good news. He certainly makes things happen.”

The next day, a Tuesday no one turned up for work.

The following day, Wednesday, they were back and again I saw major progress inside. Meanwhile, the rain poured down all day outside. A cynical part of me wondered if I had been favoured by his presence only because of the poor conditions outside. No matter how long he worked he always had time to call me down to admire what he’d done and I was fulsome in my praise.

On Thursday, they only appeared for half a day. “It’s OK though,” I comforted myself, “He’s promised to work tomorrow, Friday and Saturday too.”

Nobody materialized on Friday or Saturday.

Each day started the same, early. I was dressed and waiting for him by 7:00 a.m. The dog had been walked and breakfast was history. I was ready to react to any builder’s need for access or for extra tiles, flooring, paint, or whatever else was needed. And thus I remained hour by long bloody hour, sitting with the dog by the front window, gazing up the street and wondering, is he coming today?

Yes, I rang him. Yes, I texted/messaged him.

He ghosted me. Amazing, no?

Finally on Saturday at 1:44 p.m. I texted this:

“This is the third day this week that I have waited the entire day for you not to show. You said yesterday you would be here today and so far you have not bothered to ring or text to say you are not coming. You have ignored my text and call today. I have cancelled two doctor’s appointments and one dental to be here on the days when you did not show up. I need to remind you there is one week left before I am gone.”

This message of mine warning of time running out must have hit a raw nerve as I got a text/message back within 6 minutes:

 “ Hi’, Sorry. I will be there tomorrow around 9:00 a.m. I know it is Sunday. Please.”

So on Sunday, I waited, indoors, for him not to show. Maybe this was a form of punishment for me. For making him feel guilty. Here’s another day for you and that will learn you. Do not guilt trip me!

This week, on Monday he arrived late but worked late. All parties ignored the previous week’s behaviour and great progress was made. Just one more day will do it was agreed and Tuesday was to be that day.

Nobody materialized on Tuesday.

In summary, I have played the waiting game but would I do it again, if I knew what was in store? On balance yes, probably. The reward for me is a quality piece of work carried out to a professional standard by a skilled craftsman who ultimately did a good job, though the last few weeks have been a trial. Good men are hard to find.