Nine-ish today, he said. The Wandering Monk was coming to repair the floor so I could finish the bedroom project. He knew my neighbor also needed advance notice so we could collect stored flooring from her.
I have been busting my buns for days to be ready for him. Neighbor J. left her garage unlocked for us.
At 9:30 I texted him.
10:00: Sorry. Forgot.
No word on whether he ever planned to show again.
So are you going to be here today or have you quit?
I texted him back to say those materials were coming out of that garage TODAY and that we need to have a serious talk about whatever’s going on. He swears he’s not quitting and seems upset I’d even think that.
But the evidence has sure been piling up for months. No-show. Ignored texts. Another no-show. Mistakes.
The latest from him, under pressure, is that MAYBE he’ll be here by noon.
Everybody gets one or two. In the Monk’s case three, or four, or five. I couldn’t have done all I’ve done in the last several years without him and I am incredibly grateful. I was always under the impression we had a great working relationship and that I was one of his two or three favorite clients.
But if he doesn’t want to work for me, for whatever reason, I’d rather he just say so instead of wasting my time. The hardest thing about this is that it’s such sadly familiar contractor-type behavior. I thought he was above that.