Handyman Sucks Donkey Balls: Film at Eleven

This is part two of the story I started yesterday. Click here if you've been avoiding my blog and need to catch up. I'm appalled, but I'll wait for you to come back.

Now...

The back door had been missing a screen door since Inspector Dickwad (thanks, Kara!) made me remove it while he stood there and watched. I think he may have even gotten off on watching me sweat and struggle while he stood his geeky ass there offering no help whatsoever. Lanky bastard. We knew we needed a new one, but with now four kids and one income, it just wasn't a priority.

Last year, the pipe under the kitchen sink started leaking. I asked my Facebook friends in a status update if they knew a good handyman. A friend recommended a guy that we grew up with; his grandfather was the pastor of our church. I remembered that he used to do handy work when we were younger and he had even replaced a lock for me once, so I called him and we made arrangements and blah blah blah. He repaired the leaky pipe, no problem, so I asked if he would look at the door and give me an estimate. For $205, he would buy the screen door, install it, paint the back door (which was peeling from years of weather exposure), and change the lock. Great! Small price to pay for all that quality work, right? 

Oh, how wrong I was. This is that rare glimpse of my being taken advantage of that I promised you yesterday. Is your printer on?

I gave him a check for the full amount because, foolishly, I trusted this pastor's grandson that I had known for 20 years. I remember asking him, "Don't you have to measure the door frame?" To which he replied, "I already did." That was quick, I thought. Boy, does he work fast. He was supposed to come back in three days, which would give him time to order the door, if necessary, and get all the supplies. That would have been Thursday. 

Thursday came and went. He didn't even call. I called and left a very, um, firm message on his voicemail. He called about an hour later apologizing that he was still at work and he had lost track of time, and asked if he could come the next day. 

"Hell, no you can't come tomorrow. I have shit to do that I was supposed to do today that I didn't do because your high yellow ass was supposed to be here installing my fucking door!" Clearly, I didn't give a rat's ass that I knew this guy from church.

More apologies as he attempted to calm me down. I could have let him come on Friday. I really didn't have anything to do, but I couldn't let him monopolize my time. It was the principle, you see. We decided he would come on Monday at 9 AM. By 10:30 on Monday, when he still hadn't showed or called, I was on the verge of a killing spree. I called him again. He was on his way to Home Depot at that very moment TO SEE IF THEY HAD THE DOOR I NEEDED and then he was coming straight to my house. And by the way, I still owed him $45 because he had forgotten to include the price of the paint and the lock. I'm convinced that I heard a vessel pop in my head, but considering I'm still alive and the left half of my body still functions properly, maybe it was my imagination. I recalculated everything, realized that he had forgotten to include those things in his price and told him to just come the hell on because it was going to be really difficult for him to walk with my foot in his ass if he didn't.

Finally, he showed up, installed the door, replaced the lock, but couldn't paint the door because he had forgotten to bring the paint. He'd left it at home, but he promised that he'd come back on Wednesday to finish the job. I was so happy to finally have had my door installed that I didn't really give a shit at that point. Just get the fuck outta my house before I let my husband do to you what he's been wanting to for two weeks now. I gave him $45 cash this time because somewhere in the back of mind, I still felt like I could trust him. I know, fucking stupid. And this was just last year, so I can't blame youth.

Of course, he didn't show up on Wednesday and, of course, he didn't call. I didn't call him this time because I wanted to see if he would even bother to call me and offer an explanation. He never called. It's been almost a year and I still haven't gotten a phone call from him. I sent my "friend" who'd recommended him a message on FB, telling her that he had essentially taken my money and not done the work he was paid for. She said, "I know! He did the same thing to me!" 

What?! Well, why the fuck did she recommend him to me? I don't get it. Are they trying to drive me to drink? 'Cause everybody knows I'm only three shots of Cuervo away from alcoholism. It's a very delicate situation over here.

As you might imagine, if someone takes advantage of my good heart and kind nature, I don't take it too well. I've imagined many diabolical things that I would like to have done to him. I thought of superimposing an image of his head onto the body of a guy 'taking one up the ass' and mailing it to his wife. Thankfully, I still have at least two brain cells left to rub together (also, I don't know how to do that shit), so if he has been harmed in anyway, I had nothing to do with it. 

I swear. 

Turns out the screen door was too small for the frame and he forced it in there with blocks of wood. There are still gaps around the screen, so if you leave the inside door open, flies will find their way into my kitchen while I'm trying to decorate one of my beautiful cakes.

This is a Valentine's cake I did last year for a friend.

There is a big gap around the lock where he cut the wrong sized hole for it. And the pipe under the sink? Still leaky. 

Hubby wants to stuff his head into that gap around the lock. I can't let him do that because he's the only one working. If he goes to jail, we'll starve. 

And hooking ain't what it used to be.

Do you have any home improvement nightmares? Please share. I know I'm not the only (temporary) dumbass.