Does This Ever Happen to You?
Okay, so after a very enjoyable lunch with my husband, I head back to the office. It's a GORGEOUS day out. Temps in the low 70's...no humidity...a nice breeze...sunny. I notice a repair truck parked in front of our building. Since I'm in charge of building maintenance, these things tend to stand out to me.
The truck was from the company that services the heating and cooling (and plumbing) for our building. As I hadn't called him, I was curious why they were at the building. But while Tom (our regular service guy) was sitting in his truck when I walked past, he was on his cellphone. So, I just waved and went inside...intending to catch up with him later. Oh, how I wish later had never come...
Tom, because he knew I'd be curious, came by my office to let me know what was going on. He's good about that. Our upstairs neighbor (who handles their own building maintenance) was having a minor cooling problem. Nothing for us to worry our little heads about. Fine.
But was that it?
Oh, no.
Tom is obligated to tell me that he'd had to run home and change his clothes earlier in the day. Not that I'd asked, mind you. I hadn't inquired as to how his day was going at all. Cross my heart. Further, when he offered that he'd gone home to change, I didn't ask why. (Mostly because it wasn't really my business.) But, of course, that didn't stop this story...
He, and a helper, had been working on a big job at one of the larger hotels here in town. They were just finishing up and his helper had tightened an oil line too tightly. As he was gathering up tools, the line burst and his was sprayed with oil. Primarily in the crotch area of his jeans. (Which he used hand gestures to demonstrate. Use your imagination, folks.) Oh, but it gets better.
He had planned to go home, shortly, and change out of the oily clothes. However, after a very few minutes, the oil began to irritate (burn) his skin. “In a most sensitive area”, as he put it. Then, according to his recounting of the events, he'd rushed home, stripped off and jumped into the shower. Lathering his man parts (my terminology, not his) with body wash and vigorously scrubbing the area with his wife's loofa. Which he reenacted (clothed) with great enthusiasm.
At some point, his wife must have wondered what in the hell he was doing, as she came into the bathroom, noticed the...activity...through the shower door, and demanded to know what he was using in there.
She was heartsick to know what had become of her loofa and discarded it in the trash as soon as he'd finished with it.
Now, I stood there, blinking, wordless, not having a clue how to respond to this conversation. And decided the only thing I knew to do was to blog it. Does this stuff happen to you guys? Do repair people tell you these kinds of stories? How do you respond?
The truck was from the company that services the heating and cooling (and plumbing) for our building. As I hadn't called him, I was curious why they were at the building. But while Tom (our regular service guy) was sitting in his truck when I walked past, he was on his cellphone. So, I just waved and went inside...intending to catch up with him later. Oh, how I wish later had never come...
Tom, because he knew I'd be curious, came by my office to let me know what was going on. He's good about that. Our upstairs neighbor (who handles their own building maintenance) was having a minor cooling problem. Nothing for us to worry our little heads about. Fine.
But was that it?
Oh, no.
Tom is obligated to tell me that he'd had to run home and change his clothes earlier in the day. Not that I'd asked, mind you. I hadn't inquired as to how his day was going at all. Cross my heart. Further, when he offered that he'd gone home to change, I didn't ask why. (Mostly because it wasn't really my business.) But, of course, that didn't stop this story...
He, and a helper, had been working on a big job at one of the larger hotels here in town. They were just finishing up and his helper had tightened an oil line too tightly. As he was gathering up tools, the line burst and his was sprayed with oil. Primarily in the crotch area of his jeans. (Which he used hand gestures to demonstrate. Use your imagination, folks.) Oh, but it gets better.
He had planned to go home, shortly, and change out of the oily clothes. However, after a very few minutes, the oil began to irritate (burn) his skin. “In a most sensitive area”, as he put it. Then, according to his recounting of the events, he'd rushed home, stripped off and jumped into the shower. Lathering his man parts (my terminology, not his) with body wash and vigorously scrubbing the area with his wife's loofa. Which he reenacted (clothed) with great enthusiasm.
At some point, his wife must have wondered what in the hell he was doing, as she came into the bathroom, noticed the...activity...through the shower door, and demanded to know what he was using in there.
She was heartsick to know what had become of her loofa and discarded it in the trash as soon as he'd finished with it.
Now, I stood there, blinking, wordless, not having a clue how to respond to this conversation. And decided the only thing I knew to do was to blog it. Does this stuff happen to you guys? Do repair people tell you these kinds of stories? How do you respond?
posted by SuperWife | 1:36 PM
8 Comments:
He's... hitting on you? Maybe? It, sounds... like... attention-getting behavior? But, horribly, horribly, horribly, inept.
Maybe he just figured you were a sympathetic ear and would commisserate over his trials and travails of the day...
I-I just don't know.
Uh...I find that...a little frightening.
Definitely this is out of bounds of the normal contractor-owner relationship. I don't believe a contractor ever told me anything like this.
Too bad his wife didn't jump in with him and give him a...well...hand.
Maybe that's why he has to share TMI with his customers.
Along those lines:
When I was in university, I would sometimes take the bus home on weekends (it was about a 2 hour bus ride).
One Friday night, the fellow next to me (a couple of years younger than I) struck up a conversation with me, during which I found out 1)he and his buddies would go out on weekends and beat up "fags" for fun 2) he had a 3 year old daughter , 3) had just gotten out of juvie (juvenile detention; at this point I wasn't surprised)and 4) was going to meet his parole officer.
That was in between his trips to the bus washroom to get stoned.
I was quite happy when that trip was over...
Hey, I think we played Magic with that guy today. ;)
Hey, I think we played Magic with that guy today. ;)
Excellent - tell him I said "hi".
Wow, I didn't think stoners even had the gumption to hunt down fags for a round of queer-stomping. Shows you what I know.
Sad day when violent thugs can give stoners a bad name.
(Uh, the management and staff of Tinfoil Hat for Two wish to assure you that the above message does not neccessarily reflect the opinions of the staff and or management of Tinfoil Hat for Two. Aiming for sarcasm, not sure if I hit or not.)
I generally try to stick to "Takes all kinds to make a world"...some days that's harder than others...
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