Is that story about the frog in boiling water a real South African saying or am I just misremembering something someone once told me? In any event, it doesn’t sound like an experiment that would ever pass an ethics committee.
In lieu of a more apposite proverb then, I’ll just explain what I’m actually trying to refer to. We have a glass sliding door that’s been gradually getting harder and harder to open. For years it’s just been something we’ve tolerated but finally I’d had enough of sweltering behind the glass on another hot sunny day, and decided to do something about it.
A quick Google search revealed a number of different people who would be happy to deal with the problem, and I struggled with how to make an informed decision on who to choose. In the end it was a local business with a proper website and a high score on Google reviews.
Kieran answered my call straight away even though it was nearly 5pm, so I took that to be a good sign. Unfortunately our communications deteriorated after that, as he became very unresponsive and hard to pin down. Who hasn’t had problems with tradesmen standing you up after you’ve gone to the trouble and effort of taking time off work to meet with them? This was shaping up to be something very similar. I don’t want to be a Karen, passive aggressive, or a bitch, but sometimes you’re just left with very little choice. Come on, Kieran, don’t make me be that person!
Twenty four hours after our original phone call, including a follow up with photos, we had this conversation:
The following day we had this torturous and prolonged interaction. OK, you don’t need to be glued to your phone like some teenager, but can you be a little bit responsive so we can plan our lives?
Note the grovelling, friendly “!” that I’m forced to add at the end to show I’m not a psychopathic bitch.
Well he arrived “lait” Monday morning and in fact was perfectly pleasant in person. Rather less than medium height (why do they use that phrase in books instead of “short”?), his shorts were startlingly low hanging but luckily revealed only the top half his underwear rather than a builder’s crack. Most importantly, he gave the air of someone who knew what he was talking about. Afterwards, when reporting the conversation to Simon, I couldn’t remember clearly whether he said that that side of the house had settled a bit due to the sandy soil and the couple of large earthquakes we’d had in the past few years, or whether the house was at imminent risk of collapse. We were heartened by the reflection that if it was the latter he’d probably have suggested moving out and calling a builder ASAP, rather than provisionally penciling the job in for the following Friday. Unfortunately Friday delivered some otherwise much needed rain, so it wasn’t until the following week that Kieran arrived in his van with his underling in tow. The job was much smaller than I could possibly have hoped for, and after a couple of hours they were done, sliding door fixed, plus another couple of small jobs done involving windows in the bathroom. The bill came that afternoon and was much less than I’d have been willing to pay so alls well that ends well.
Or so I thought. That evening as we were packing up to go back to Wellington for another week of wage slavery, we couldn’t get the door closed. It kept jamming. I tried ringing Kieran but without much hope, as it was after 8pm by then. I sent him a text asking him to come and fix it the next day, while making plans for leaving a family member behind, when Kieran got back in touch. We had a brief chat and then Lo and behold, he turned up to fix it. This is when I learned a new term, “mohair” which is glazier’s jargon for the black fluffy material that lines the tracks.
It had got bunched up in the process of removing and replacing the glass panels, and was jamming the door. When I expressed my gratitude to Kieran for coming out so late at night and at such short notice, he said he was happy to do it, and he wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he hadn’t. Talk about professionalism! There’s a five star review coming your way, Kieran.