The first couple times it happens, you chalk it up to one of the many premiums you pay for living on the nicer side of town. But after getting monkey-wrenched a few times you realize it’s no coincidence you get price jammed every time you call a repair or handy man from the trading room. These guys are dumb but they’re not stupid… or maybe it’s the other way around… Anyway, I’m not sure, but you get the point. They may not know what the fuck equity trading means, but somebody somewhere along the way taught these guys that all that trading room commotion they hear in the background means more money and bigger mark-ups.
Unless you’re having some renovations done, the only time you really need to deal with these blue collar criminals is when you’ve got an emergency. Perhaps a pipe burst, maybe your refrigerator full of food broke down after a Costco trip or maybe your 5 year old wanted to see what happened after flushing a half eaten apple wrapped in orange Play-Doh down the toilet.
These “C Students” may have lacked aptitude, initiative and showed little enthusiasm back in high school, but now…. Now they’re armed with a complete set of tools from APEX Tech, have complete control over the handy man market and a monopoly on every auto repair shop in the United States. The only thing worse than having some greaser with a toothpick hanging over his lip looking under the hood of your Mercedes (who at best scored 700 on his SAT’s) is having to bring one of these borderline inmates into your home. But fortunately and unfortunately for me, my wife is usually the one who has to deal with these overpriced dipshits. You don’t have much of a choice when the weather man’s calling for 95°, the air conditioner goes out and your expecting some of the other stay-at-home’s over for coffee and to watch The View.
Now my wife and I have an understanding… I work, pay the bills and handle all business transactions for the family. My wife sends the kids to school, stays in close contact with her family and makes cupcakes once a year when the bake sale comes around. Unfortunately for me, in my house, a business transaction is defined as anything that requires picking up the telephone and talking to anyone who is not the mother-in-law.
It seems that it my house, things usually breakdown in the late afternoon. This way I’m always guaranteed the panic call at 3:59. If something did ever starting acting up before 11 a.m., chances are nobody would ever know (because somebody’s still sleeping). From here it’s my turn to get on the phone and try to get somebody who can get over to my house and fix the problem. After leaving messages on 15 different repair service answering machines (who’s outgoing messages sound like they were recorded in the 1970’s), I wait for a call back. When these Carhartt jacket wearing, money sucking parasites do start calling I have to try and explain a problem that I don’t fully understand myself. I didn’t see what happened. “My wife said a pipe burst. “It may be the water main, maybe she ran over a sprinkler head or maybe the dryer vent fell of the wall…. I don’t know. Just go fucking fix it. And no… Next fucking Tuesday is not good enough.” Just to make it things even more fun, when I finally find someone to come today, I have to tell him he can’t come between 2 and 4 because my wife can’t cancel her Pilate class.
And when one of theses high school drop-outs actually show up , my wife always feels the need to phone me and give me the play-by-play. It’s bizarre. She calls from her own house, but yet she whispers into the phone like she’s hiding under the bed from Michael Myers. “He tracked mud all over my floor”…. “Do you think I should offer him something to drink?”…”The man said he needs to get into the attic – should I let him?”…. “Do I tip him..? How much do I tip?”… “He said this is probably much worse than we realized and there’s no quick fix.”… “He just cut a hole in the shower wall the size of manhole cover but he says he’ll leave me the number of a good tile guy.”…
They’re not bright but they’re clever. I think it more instinctual than anything else… like a tick with pencil behind it’s ear latching itself onto a nice golden retriever. They rely on the limited knowledge of the consumer. They’re fully aware the wife will believe and agree to pay for anything he tells her while the man of the house remains confined and beats his head into his desk in a galaxy far far away. However, take my advice. When something breaks down and you have to call for an emergency repair of some sort, go place the call from a nice quiet office. If you do need to call from the trading desk during market hours and they ask about all the noise… Don’t say you work in a trading room. Tell them you’re calling from a police station.
-Dopey
