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How long has it been? Ten minutes? Fifteen? The repairman said he would be here at 3 o’clock. His truck pulled up promptly at 4:30. And he is still in his truck. What’s he doing there, talking to his girlfriend or playing Texas Hold ‘Em?
Has this happened to you? A problem develops, like a broken electric pencil sharpener, a strong smell of smoke in the water heater closet or an infestation of 6-inch roaches. So you call the proper company, get put on hold while you continually hear: “Your call is very important to us” interspersed with “The Best of the Black Watch Bagpipe Band.”
You finally get a real person on the phone and say, “I’d like to make an appointment for one of your repairmen to fix my broken sauna and …” She interrupts. “RepairMEN? What are you? Some kind of sexist? We have some very good repairWOMEN here at Fixin’-to-Fix.” I reply: “I don’t care what sex the repairperson is if he or she can fix my sauna.” The voice says, “Let me check our appointment schedule. This is, uh, two-thousand and twenty-two? Three?”
It is annoying when handypersons are late, but much worse when they are early. “I had two cancellations and one not-at-home, so I came at nine instead of noon.” I am standing there in my Donald Duck PJs, with a shaking cup of coffee in my hands. Yes, hands, plural. I hadn’t taken the first sip.
Then there are the cable guys. When we moved to our new house after Hurricane Harvey destroyed our previous villa, we called to have someone come and connect our cable. It took — I kid you not — seven visits for the cable to connect.
Speaking of Harvey, did you have problems finding a repairperson after Harvey? Thousands of Houston homes were damaged by that disaster, and it was near impossible to find anyone who could repair anything. This led to out-of-towners coming in to help. “We’re an old Houston institution,” he says. “We’ll be here to follow up on any problems.” I notice his truck at the curb, with the side panel reading: “Serving Omaha since 2017.” It was the same in February of last year when Ice Storm Uri broke pipes, ruined ceilings and trashed furniture. Repairers were MIA. They probably had their own home disasters.
This is not to knock our repairpersons. I have yet to meet a surly one. They are always cheery, most put on foot covers before they come in, some wear masks and only a few announce that they tested positive for COVID-19 that morning. We need them because they can paint, tape, wrench and hammer better than we DIY types can, even when we try. (Don’t ask about the stove burner, the firefighters and the cancelled insurance policy.) Pest controllers are good. They show up on time, do their job in about 15 or 20 minutes, and leave. I only wish they would come back the next morning when I walk into the kitchen and find half a dozen dead roaches on the floor.
A homeowner hires a plumber to fix a kitchen drain. When the plumber is finished, he says: “That’ll be three hundred and fifty bucks.” The homeowner replies: “What! I’m a lawyer and I don’t charge that much.” The plumber says, “Neither did I when I was a lawyer.”
The A/C repairers should be honored along with our first responders to terrible situations — cops, firefighters, EMS medics and, of course, the Astros’ bullpen. There is no torture quite like having your air conditioning go out on a Houston August afternoon. You call Air Apparent. “We notice from your phone number that you have not called us before. Now that you are sweating like Greg Abbott going through a Planned Parenthood clinic, you call us. Have you no shame?”
True story. Recently I called my A/C company for a semi-annual check-up. The fixer checked out my A/C system and said everything was fine. He charged me $105. Two weeks later, water started dripping down beneath the A/C unit, ruining the paint and warping the wall. The very same repair guy came out and unclogged the drain. He only charged me $99. I finally got a contractor to repair the wet walls. He checked my A/C — and unclogged the drain.
I am still at my front door and at 4:45 here comes the repairer who promptly fixes my sauna. She’s quite good.
Lynn Ashby is a Houston-based columnist. Contact him at ashby2@comcast.net.
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