CONTENT WARNING: Mention of gun violence

I am a forty-year-old woman maintenance assistant for a city. There are not many women on my team, but we are crucial for parts of the job (liability stuff). I also dye my hair with henna. In the sunlight, it often glows bright like copper. I don’t know what compelled a random man old enough to be my father to approach me, but my hair is often the reason. I’ve been hit on many times before, and it likely won’t be the last. This time, however, is by far the strangest interaction I’ve ever had.

Today, I was asked to meet several of my leads on a repair job in a heavily homeless-populated area. My team never cleans there because it’s unsafe, but a pipe burst, and it was an emergency. And we were understaffed that day. So, my boss trusted me to drive four blocks to the repair site. The moment I get out of the truck, ZOOM!

Some random, old man in an American flag hat has snuck up behind me, positioning his scooter between my truck’s driver door and me, but not between my leads’ truck. There in the truck sat three of my leads (tall, dark, bearded men wearing the same uniform as me). I was safe.

First, assuming this was a man looking for directions or assistance, I don my customer service, always-be-polite-to-the-public state of mind.

The dialogue that follows is an approximation of our interaction.

Me: “Can I help you?”

Him: “Come here often?”

Me: “No. This is my first time here.”

Him: “Oh. So, you’re here to clear out these bums.”

Me: “That’s not my job.”

Him: “What is your job?”

Me: *Gesturing to my leads behind me.* “We are maintenance.”

Him: “So, you can do something about the holes in the fence? Those bums are cutting holes there. There. There.”

Me: “That is an excellent observation. I’ll be sure to pass it along.”

Him: “While you’re at it, you should take a shotgun and blow their heads off.”

Me: “…I’m sorry, but we as city employees cannot condone violence.”

Him: “Fine. Maybe, I’ll do it.”

Me: “Just don’t do it in front of me. I’ll be obligated to report it.”

After he scootered off, I turn to my leads.

Me: “Will one of you ride with me. I suddenly don’t want to drive alone.”

I’m renting out an apartment to a friend of mine since this summer. Of course, one week after the new laws are in effect (raising VAT from 6% to 21%), my water heater breaks down.

I call a large and well-known company that services these and request a specific model from Brand A because I really dislike Brand B for reasons that aren’t relevant to this story.

Note: Brand B has recently been bought by Brand A, but the internal mechanism is still different. 

I called the company, and they want to come over the next day to make an offer. I specify to them it HAS to be Brand A. 

The guy comes over and seems friendly enough.

He takes a quick look at the old unit (which was beyond repair) and says it’s almost impossible to fit in Brand A, it won’t fit in the provided space, the pipes will have to be moved, etc. etc. He stresses that since the takeover, Brand B has improved quality, matching Brand A (not what I read online, but the internet isn’t always reliable).

I reluctantly concede and tell him to make a quote.

Later that day, I received an email with a quote. It includes:

• A new chimney lining, because the old one is too worn for 500€
• A heater for 2500 €
• 500 € for the working hours and transport costs
  Totalling 3500 €

I look up the model they suggest to see if the price is right. I find the SAME Brand B and model on their own (!) web shop, priced down from 2500 to 900 €.

I also looked up the dimensions of the device I wanted to compare it with their suggestion (given the limited space for installing it). The device I wanted is … smaller than the Brand B one. 

So, I email them:

Me: “I’m sorry, but your quote is unacceptable. You sell the exact same device on your website for a third of the price. Your guy misinformed me of the dimensions of the devices, in order to push one that he preferred for some reason (probably because nobody wants them, and you can’t get rid of your stock). And finally, your guy never even looked up the chimney. How could he possibly know it’s worn? I had expected more from a nationwide company. These kinds of sales ‘techniques’ are something I might expect from a small-time, self-employed bad excuse for a handyman, but not from [Company]. I will be looking elsewhere for the honest service I expect to receive for my money.”

Of course, they never even respond.

So, I try the opposite: I find the nearest, self-employed plumber without personnel or even a decent website. I call him and he answers in a heavy local dialect:

Plumber: “Haaallo?”

Me: *Explains what’s going on.*

Plumber: *Interrupting me.* “Wait… Are ya tryin’ to heat the whole house or an apartment?”

Me: “Apartment.”

Plumber: “Manneke—” *Which means literally ‘little guy’.* “—you’re shooting an elephant gun at a mouse. You don’t need all that stuff. You want Brand A for an apartment? You need [cheaper model]. Same size. And all that crap about pipes not fitting and needing a new chimney? I’ll come take a look today after work. You live nearby anyway. Let me guess, you asked for a quote at Company C? Yep… could’ve guessed. Their marketing guy is too dim to understand that ‘66% off – web shop only’ only p***es people off when they receive a quote. Of course people are gonna look up the price online. And first thing they find? Company C with a 66% lower price than the quote they just gave out. Best part is? People buy that thing online and then call company C to install it, and they flat out refuse, saying they don’t install devices that people bought ‘from the internet’. Anyway, I’ll be there in a few hours.”

So, the guy shows up.

Plumber: “First of all, I don’t s*** where I eat. I live three blocks away. People in town know me. You’ll see me in the stores and on the street. You know where I park my car. So you won’t be getting bad quality work from me. I need to be able to leave the house without getting hassled by angry clients.”

Me: “Most convincing sales pitch I could think of.”

Plumber: *Takes a look at the heater and the space.* “Alrighty, piece of cake. The Brand you want is more expensive than Brand B, but in the end, you’ll have spent less than with company [A]. You don’t need a new chimney. I’ll do the whole thing for 2999 €. Ten-year warranty instead of the standard two.”

Me: “That sounds good. But what if I paid you cash in hand?”

Note: In Belgium, taxes are immense, so a lot of self-employed people take smaller jobs without paperwork; you pay them cash, everyone’s happy. It’s very common, it’s called “zwartwerk”, translated literally as “black (market) labor”.

Plumber: “I can make you a quote for 50€ because the device has to be officially inspected after ‘you’ installed it ‘all by yourself’. That needs to be on paper. Pay me the rest in cash, it’s only 2200€.”

So folks: shop local, compare service and prices, and when asking for “zwartwerk,” don’t leave a paper trail, ask it face to face!

I worked for a plumbing contractor who had a retail store for seven years. There are many stories from those days. This is one of them.

I was helping a guy at the counter with some minor repairs, and he commented that he wished he could find a plumber who could get rid of the sewage smell in one of his bathrooms. Upon inquiry, he told me that in the mornings, it was so bad they literally couldn’t use that bathroom.

From experience, I knew that this was caused by some sort of leak in the sewage piping, usually the trap under the sink, letting noxious gases escape. I explained that to him, and he said they’d had a number of plumbers come out, change the trap, tinker with this or that, all with no success. He was ready to give up.

I told him that we’d fix it, but if it wasn’t in the accessible pipes under the sink, it was likely to be expensive. He said he didn’t care, he just wanted to be able to use the bathroom. So we sent out one of our plumbers, and told him to ‘fix’ it.

Turned out, it was a broken sewer main under the floor, and it took a full day and more to get it squared away. By the time the plumber was done, they’d removed the entire (concrete) floor to the bathroom and half the bedroom, to find the break. And there was so much raw sewage that had leaked out, they had to shovel it into five-gallon buckets, and had a three-foot-high mound in the backyard.

But the bathroom didn’t smell of sewage anymore (once the backyard was cleaned up). The bill was $2,500 (thirty years ago), and the homeowner gave the plumber a $500 tip in cash.

Plumbers often make more than doctors or even lawyers. And they’re underpaid.

Caller: “I have a problem.”

Pause.

Me: “…What is your problem?”

Caller: “The water.”

Me: “What is wrong with your water?”

Caller: “There’s a problem?”

Me: “What is the problem?”

Caller: “The water.”

Me: “Okay, we have identified that your problem is with some part of your water. What is the problem?”

Caller: “The water.”

Me: *Going for the most common issues.* “Is there no water coming out of your faucet?”

Caller: “No, we’re getting the water; there’s just a problem with it.”

Me: “Okay, is it dirty? Is it leaking from somewhere it shouldn’t be?”

Caller: “Yes.”

Okay, I’ll stick to just suggesting one problem at a time.

Me: “Which one? Dirty water or a leak?”

Caller: “Yes.”

Me: “Dirty water?”

Caller: “No.”

Me: “So it’s a leak?”

Caller: “No.”

Head desk.

Me: “…how about I just come out there and identify the problem?”

Caller: “But I already told you. I have a problem with the water.”

I ended up going out there myself. The problem wasn’t with the water; it was an old faucet that had rusted to the point where it was very difficult to turn. I loosened it for them and told them to buy a new one. As far as I could tell, they were locals with no language or developmental barriers; they just didn’t know how to communicate.

 Related:
H2-OMG!, Part 8
H2-OMG!, Part 7
H2-OMG!, Part 6
H2-OMG Shut Up!
H2-OMG!, Part 5

Flushing my home toilet would occasionally cause the flapper to disconnect and the tank to perpetually drain until we fixed it. As we had a plumber coming to fix an unrelated issue, I wanted to ask the qualified individual to look at it; I had some idea of the cause, but two of the possibilities were problems I could not accurately gauge. However, at the time of this incident, I was in high school and the appointment was for the middle of a weekday, so I had to trust my dad.

I made sure to show my dad the issue one time when it happened again. Before I left on the day of the appointment, I made the point one last time.

Me: “I don’t know if it’s the chain, the flapper, or the thing it’s hooked on. Just have the plumber look at it; we can fix two of those ourselves.”

When I got home from school, the plumber had since left and the unrelated job was complete.

Me: “So, what did he say about the toilet?”

Dad: “I didn’t show him.”

Me: *Facepalming* “Why not?”

Dad: “I can fix it myself.”

Me: “Are you sure? Because if it’s the thing the flapper’s hooked on, I’m pretty sure we have to replace the toilet.”

Dad: “I know what I’m doing.”

Me: “So, what is the problem?”

Dad: “I know how to fix it!”

Me: “That’s not what I asked!”

Dad: “I CAN DO THE JOB!”

Me: “I’m not debating whether you can do a job! I’m debating whether you know which job to do! That’s why I wanted a professional to look at it!”

The fight continued until the end of the week, when my dad announced that he had done the job: he had replaced the fill valve. The perfectly functional fill valve. And since it was a float-cup mechanism, rather than the ballcock mechanism we were accustomed to, he broke it about two weeks later when some debris got in the mechanism and caused the valve to not close.

Guess what I spent the next weekend doing. Alone. By choice. As my mom dragged my dad out of the house.