Home Improvement

Note: I am design challenged when it comes to this blog. Be prepared for different looks to cycle through, perhaps some of them ratchet, until I figure it out. I'm on a journey. Any tips on how to make these Blogger templates look good, lemme know! Now back to our regularly scheduled program...

Like I said last week, this new-in-town situation has resulted in different inventory. On a macro level the quality has been an upgrade. But my personal pipeline upgrade has been mainly in terms of quantity. In b-school (men:women::2:1) we used to say, "the odds are good, but the goods are odd." So if you can believe it with less than 60 days on the ground and a dozen of those away, I already have a nutso bizarro story to tell.

My dear friend JLo (seriously, that's who she looks like) is a part time realtor. She diligently shepherded me around town to help me find a place when I first got here. In fact, she even offered her 2nd bedroom to me for as long as I needed and cooked me dinner to boot! And a whole lot of other above and beyond awesomely nice things, plus a lovely crystal pitcher with matching glasses as a housewarming gift, so this is a shout out to JLo, you're the best girl!

Anyway, I digress. We had a couple of days of looking that were pretty discouraging until one day, we happened upon the palace where I currently reside. Let's call my new residence, Villa Vizcaya.

I took it on the spot.

It needed a fresh coat of paint and my new landlord graciously offered to do so. Since that was happening, I asked if they would let me choose the color, and I (rather, JLo) provided the paint I chose.

When I arrived to move in on Mon Aug 6, the paint job was done but it was mad sloppy. The contractor wanted to touch up the paint so I left my FIVE LARGE suitcases and air mattress there and took an overnight bag back to JLo's house. 22.2 miles away. Let's call this so-called contractor, who is actually not licensed as a contractor in the state of Florida but refers to himself as such, "Home Improvement".

Home Improvement is a somewhat vertically challenged skinny Caribbean fellow. Not particularly handsome. Let's give him a five for fitness. I know he's fit because the first thing out of his mouth was how he competitively does xyz sport. zzzzzzz Sorry, were you talking? I dozed off for a second.

Just as cocky but a foot shorter and without the gold medals.

Anyway on that Monday he asked to meet me the following day at the new apartment to discuss the paint job and some additional clean up details that were left undone as of my move in date. When I arrived at Villa Vizcaya on Tuesday, he started running lame game. First, he pointed out how crappy the paint job was and said, "I'm going to do the whole thing over". Which meant, because he thinks too highly of himself to get dirty and plus didn't know how to actually DO anything, that he would hire another crew. He actually had the face to mention how it was going to cost and he would lose money on the job. I'm thinking...um...didn't you get paid $1600 for 1100 square feet and mess it up the first time? In Miami? #Jussayin. Anyway I said to him...as long as you're in here I'd like to paint accent walls here and there, and do a couple of other things, install a deadbolt, fix the curtain rod, etc. How much $?

"I'll let you know how you can pay me." I SWEAR. Bible, as my girls (in my mind we're friends) like to say. Skeevy.

Cross your fingers I don't get a cease and desist for using this,
I don't make any $ off this blog Mama Kris! 

I thought to myself...awesome! He's gonna wish he took a check after it's over. For a few reasons. One, if I were the kind of girl who charged for that sort of thing, the value of a few handyman tasks would be worth like 1 minute of my time not because I'm Sunshine from Harlem Nights but because it's a gross way to earn a living. Two, more importantly, I wasn't interested. Remotely. Three, just how lame and gross is that, for the guy with the keys to your new crib to be hitting on you after he botched the job then has to do it over and acts like he's such a great guy, doing this awesome fantastic thing and deserves some applause. And he wasn't even finished with the work before he asked me to write him a reference/recommendation! (Excuse me while I throw up in my mouth a second.)

Sunshine's been holding it down, go girl!

By day two of this ordeal, he was up in my face asking me personal questions, making comments about my color palette, my wardrobe, my perfume, a scar on my arm, tagging along and ruining my serenity at breakfast, telling me to take off my sunglasses so he could look me in the eyes (which annoys me IMMENSELY), opining unsolicited on my wall plate selection, and just generally pressing up on me in the most totally unprofessional and inappropriate way. One night I got home from a day of errands to get my overnight bag to drive the 22.2 miles back to JLo's...and he was jamming with his iPhone on my Bose speakers talking about, "I hope you don't mind". YES. I do. It is 7pm. Get the f*ck out! Home Improvement often seemed to come by after work hours because oh yeah, he's in charge of finishing properties at the Taj Mahal down the street mainly, and doesn't deal with anyone who has a property value less than $400k. That's a parking space in NYC boo, don't try to impress me.

Mind you, I was still living out of a tote bag 22.2 miles away while PAYING RENT at Villa Vizcaya. As he leisurely or perhaps just incompetently, dragged out this job because he was thinking with the wrong head, delusionally, and didn't get any of the additional stuff I asked for done at all. Like the lock. Or the curtain rod (rather, he did that halfway and another handyman, a cute one, fixed it after). Leaving things like his sunglasses in my apartment so he'd have to stop by and pick them up. Oy vey. Just go away.

My blood pressure continued to percolate over the course of the several days it took to repaint and do virtually nothing else in my place. One day he sent me back to Home Depot for new dimmers when I had the right ones all along because he didn't know wtf he was doing. It took him five evenings in a row caulking the baseboards to sort of get it right. I reminded him daily to secure the closet shelves because I had a whole lotta clothes coming. The closets didn't get done until the last second. And various other little things that I've already forgotten about.

Finally, on Sat Aug 11, I was able to inflate my air mattress and sleep in my new abode. 5 nights I was homeless because of this clown. But I was happy at last. The new paint job was great even though the painters messed up the curtains themselves and I ended up replacing them. My closet shelves weren't wobbling. I had a new lock and Home Improvement no longer had a key. It was all gully until I unpacked a suitcase and hung up 20 items. Just 20 because that's all the hangers I had, because I bought them that day. Lightweight dresses. Blouses. Tank tops. Nothing heavy. Then...

Seriously?

So I kirked out. Loudly. In his ear. Apparently Home Improvement is not familiar with the concept of anchoring shelves in wall studs. Because he's a minimalist as he told me about himself along with a bunch of other crap I gave two snits about. NO, I do NOT care about your relationship with your father or your former fiancee...I'm just being polite because you put me on the spot asking me to breakfast and then didn't even pay! Violating my serenity as mentioned above. Boo hiss.

About the apartment...the owner's realtor made everything ok. She's awesome. The handyman she sent was much easier to look at, had his own tool box, and fixed everything just perfectly in one day. Yum. And to be fair, the 2nd paint job is really quite good. Not that Home Improvement touched a brush.

Ok so, the end. Right? Nope!

This Wednesday I got a call from a Private Number. This is after the flirty text I had gotten from Home Improvement after I moved in but before the closet died. I shut that exchange down by replying, "who is this"? I had deleted his number. Anyway, since I use this phone for business I answered the blocked call.

I-think-it-was-Home-Improvement: Hey is this Black Swan? [mispronouncing my government name the way many Anglo Caribbean people do including Home Improvement.]
Me: Yes this is she, who's speaking?
I-think-it-was-Home-Improvement: This is your secret admirer [sounding just like Home Improvement]. Are you going to be home today?
Me: Who is this? Who gave you my number?
I-think-it-was-Home-Improvement: I don't think I should reveal that now, are you going to be around?
Me: If you don't tell me who the f*ck this is right the f*ck now I'm f*cking calling the f*cking police. [I learned a lot on the trading floor.]
I-think-it-was-Home-Improvement: What? Huh? Doh! *click*

Seriously? Does he not know how incredibly creepy and weird it is to call a woman who just moved to town and lives alone and ask her if she's going to be home? And how transparent it is because only a couple of folks even know where I live and everyone else has an alibi? But also how incredibly scary because what if it's NOT him and it's some pervy creep I don't already know who was looking at me through my windows while Home Improvement couldn't fix the curtains, and now is gonna come get me and feed me to the gators on some Dexter sh*t?!?!?

New season Sep 30, can't wait to see what happens with Deb!

I called the police and my cell carrier immediately. And notified my management office/doorman that if anyone wants to see me they must call first and show identification. And real talk, I'm thinking about a gun. Don't worry, I'll learn how to use it.

My last secret admirer was a guy named Golden Crews in the 11th grade. He used to slip me little notes in my locker written with perfect penmanship in purple marker, my favorite color. But then his father wouldn't let him take me to the homecoming dance because he said I ugly because I was too dark. Or maybe that was before and Golden only liked me in rebellion against his father, who was married to a white lady/Golden's mom. Golden ended up dating my NQW** good friend but I didn't care because we all dated each others' boyfriends back then. Today I'd stab a beeyatch in the neck for that. But that's another story.

Two take aways:
1) Men. Please think with your brain and not your other brain.
2) If I disappear, Home Improvement did it!




**New to the vocabulary along with ratchet. NQW = not quite white. Replaces the old school and frankly clunky "light bright almost white" in my lexicon. Thanks to one of my guy friends for turning me on to that one. Ratchet = wack or raggedy.