Monday, October 31, 2011

What YOUR Plumber Thinks About YOU!

The following is a guest post from the id minded Andrew from the fabulous www.depmodeche.blogspot.com


Let’s call this one, “What your plumber thinks about you.”  It’s a title that’s clear, it’s direct, it’s to the point… something that you’re NOT!.  (Oh, and it’s not just your plumber who thinks this… it’s your electrician, your roofer, your carpet cleaner, your appliance guy, your landscaper… we all talk to each other, folks, and we mainly talk about YOU!).

Let’s start at the very beginning, the message you leave on my voicemail, that rambling, babbling mess, that waterfall of detail informing me of when you discovered the leak, (“I guess it was yesterday morning.. or maybe it was around noon.”), what you were doing at the time, (“I was looking for the silver polish under the sink.”), what your initial reaction was, (“It felt wet but I thought that maybe the glass cleaner leaked… or maybe my cleaning girl spilled something under there… she’s Russian and she doesn’t always understand what I tell her.”)¸ and then what your subsequent thought process was, (“I figured I’d dry it up and check it later… I should have just called you.”).  

This is often then followed by a meandering walk though your daily schedule… “I’ll be home till three and then I pick the kids up at the bus stop.  I have to stop at CVS and then I’ll be home until six, but after that we have soccer.  Tomorrow I’m home in the morning… oh, wait, you don’t work in the morning.  I’ll be home tomorrow at two-fifteen but then I have to run out at three-thirty.  The kids have a dentist appointment at four but it’s just a cleaning, we should be home by five-thirty.  My husband will be home at six, but I wanna be here so I can ask you about a new faucet. I’ll give you my cell number, my home number, my husband’s cell number, his work number, and the fact that one breast is larger than the other.  I know it’s just a small leak under the sink, but I don’t want it to get worse.  I have no reason to believe it will get worse, I just like to worry and create drama where none exists and to put you under pressure.  I’m hoping you can make it TODAY because it would never occur to me that you might be busy.”

Thanks.  Thanks for all of that utterly useless and boring information that I have to listen to while waiting for the only part that matters… your freakin’ phone number so I can call you back!

(Just for comparison, here’s what some OTHER customers will say. “Hey Andrew, it’s Mrs. Notamoron, 215-555-6547, something is leaking under the kitchen sink.  Give me a call when you can.  Thanks.”)

See?  My time is valuable. So is yours.  I’ll NEVER get that time back.  The time I spent listening to your ridiculously long and detailed message is gone forever.  It usually takes me less time to fix the leak than it does to listen to your message.  And here’s the second-to-the-best part, you’ll want to tell me the entire story AGAIN when I call you back!  It wasn’t that good of a story the first time!  But that’s the second-to-best part… the best part is that I can’t call you back because despite the exhaustive, unabridged life-story you left on my voicemail, you either forgot to leave your phone number, said your phone number so quickly that I can’t possibly understand it, said your phone number just as one of your little angels grabbed a handful of hair from a sibling who then let out a scream to wake the dead, or (and you’d be surprised how often this happens) said MY PHONE NUMBER.

Is it that difficult to compose your thoughts BEFORE you call someone?  Can you not condense your thoughts to just the relevant information so that I can get the point and call you right back?  Oh, and just so ya know, telephone numbers aren’t one syllable!  Saying your number isn’t an Olympic sport.  The world is in the shape it’s in today not just because of religious fanaticism, but because of people who somehow seem to not be aware that TUNEFIVVESEVTHREEI is not a phone number, it’s a code word for giving the plumber a stroke.  

(Oh, and for you old people, just so YOU know, it’s VOICEMAIL, it’s not an ANSWERING MACHINE!  I can’t hear your message AS you’re leaving it.  Stop saying, “Andrew, are you there?  Pick up.  Are you there?  Pick up.”)

Of course, the only good thing about your message is that often I can’t hear it at all!  Using the speaker phone on your cell as you pilot the minivan (or the massive SUV, for you moms who fancy yourselves hip) at 75 MPH down I-95 is not the best way to leave a message on someone’s voicemail.  The over-modulation caused by your yelling into the phone is worsened by the wind-tunnel effect.  Or here’s a good one… calling the plumber while you’re on a liquid-lunch with the other soccer moms.  Not only are you rudely annoying the other diners as you yell into your cell phone, but all I can hear is the sound of glass and silverware and the cacophony of the other moms ordering their third glass of something a tad stronger than wine.  You don’t need a plumber, you need a Twelve-Step program.  

Yes, that’s right, the plumber is judging you.  And you, my friend, are guilty of more than just leaving a long message with no phone number.  From the eighteen pairs of shoes you have strewn by the front door, to the bathroom trashcan overflowing with nasty-ass used Q-tips, to the X-rated DVD case in your bedroom that you forgot to hide, to the layer of dust and hair that’s behind your toilet, to the long cell phone conversation you had with your girlfriend about ANOTHER girlfriend while your toddler sat in a dirty diaper, your plumber sees it all and is going to write about it right here.  You’ve been busted, my friend.   And there’s no stopping THIS leak.