Stop the Madness

I admit it. It is pretty easy to be the best plumber in Birmingham when the bar is pretty low to begin with. However--and maybe it is just me--I would think if I have steady work from a landlord with a gazillion homes, I might be a tad more attentive.

Angie, bless her, has been very patient about the water leak at her home. Frankly, I was under the impression it was fixed after their ineptitude caused a flood of Biblical proportions. When this happened originally, I used my best low-talking teeth clenching, "I expected better from you" speech, patented by mothers everywhere and changed for the occasional vendor.

Sadly, this past week Angie e-mailed me to tell me nope, the bathroom water leak is still there. Because of the timing involved, I asked her to call the plumber. She did. Then I called the plumber and explained I didn't want my tenant to ever call me again about this leak. TAKE CARE OF IT.

Tuesday, the plumber showed up, scratched his head and left. He never touched his tool box. He never did any plumberly things. He just left. Angie still has a broken bathroom. She is unhappy. I am livid.

Wednesday, because I was pretty sure I could not speak to them without using a high-pitched I am furious beyond all get out type of voice (also patented by mothers everywhere), I had Marty Sunshine call.

In all fairness, I was sort of hoping Marty would channel my frustration and give them hell. No. Not Marty. He was super professional and reasonable. This just didn't sit well. I watched him, knowing my ire wasn't being conveyed appropriately.

So, I started ranting in the background, loud enough to ensure the owner's wife took note. I said things like, "didn't charge them for the damage caused by the flood," this particular issue is directly related to "incompetent plumbers who have not done their job" and "I don't appreciate my tenants thinking I am a slumlord because I can't get quality work done."

Marty assures me the owner's wife was taking notes and my message was relayed. Maybe. Maybe no.

Carolsue got a call about 15 minutes later from the plumber who is supposed to meet her at Angie's home tomorrow so she can point out exactly where the water is coming from. Though I don't know what transpired between the time Marty hung up and the time he called Carolsue, he was apparently in a bad mood when he talked to her.

I have told Carolsue to take pictures. Because if this isn't fixed I am calling the board of contractors. I am not paying for an indoor swimming pool. And, I am not a slumlord.