They may be separated by an ocean, speak with a different accent, exchange with a different currency and prefer coffee over tea but it seems construction workers from London to New York are really all the same. You’re assured that the job can be done quickly, that they are the best contractors around, that they’re giving you the absolute best price and that they can do anything you want. Then they take 50% of their fee, do 50% of the work, leave all their equipment cluttering 1/3 of your apartment, a bed of dust on the floor so thick that even you swiffer mopper can’t cope and you spend weeks chasing them on the phone to complete the job.
The cabinets are in, the floor has been laid, the walls have had one coat of paint. Everything is in place. Except that the cabinets have no door knobs, the range has no gas, the dishwasher no connection, the sink no faucet, and that final coat of paint is yet to be completed. Did I mention that the counter tops have been measured three times now? Three times by “the best guy around” who I had to wait a week for to come out in the first place. Everything is “tomorrow, I promise” followed by a quiet “or at the latest, Monday next week”.
And so it is that I am still eating off of paper plates, washing up in the bathroom sink and rapidly despairing of microwaved meals. For the first time ever, I’m happy about the fact that I eat two meals a day at work- because that’s one less at home. In the meantime, I’m threatening to sell my contractors toolbox on ebay, tomorrow- I promise or at the latest, Monday next week.