Thinking Outside The (Definitely Not Leaking) Box

In 1962, the bathroom in our apartment had a toilet with a wooden box above it; one pulled a chain attached to that box to flush it. The box began to leak, so I called the landlord, who sent over a plumber. The plumber walked in with a hat on and, without doing anything, proceeded to tell me the box didn’t leak.

Me: *Angrily* “Take off your hat, sit on the toilet, pull the chain, and tell me again that it doesn’t leak.”

He refused, so I closed and locked the door from the outside.

Me: “Let me know when you’ve done what I asked.”

I left for work. Later, I got a call from my roommate who said she had been awakened by pounding from the inside of the bathroom and had let the person out.

Then, my landlord called me.

Landlord: “[Plumber] refuses to come back, but he assured me that the box doesn’t leak.”

Me: “Do you really think I would waste your time and mine by calling if the box didn’t really leak?”

My landlord paused for a moment.

Landlord: “I’m sending over another plumber with a new box.”

Me: “Thank you!”