The Only Good Contractor...

[mrockwell]

Writing

Just beginning to incorporate comments from my beta readers. Only got up to Chapter Three because of the nightmare known as contractors (more below).

I read over on Agent Obscura's blog about the Little Owl mentoring program that pairs published authors (and poets) with teenagers/young adults who want to improve their own musecraft. It seemed like a great way to give back to the writing community, and to share some of my own good fortune, so I applied to be a mentor and I'm happy to report that I'm now waiting to be assigned my very own mentee. It looks like a very worthwhile program, so I'd encourage all of my writer friends (you know who you are!) to take a look, volunteer, and reap some good writerly karma. We can all use more of that, right?

Everything Else

I have mentioned on this blog before how I hate contractors with a deep and passionate hatred that will no doubt earn me several long years in Purgatory. After today, I hate them more.

The stucco repair guy was scheduled to be here at 9 AM. I had to leave at 3 PM, so that should have given him plenty of time to get here, right? Wrong. All the other contractors managed to show up on time (relatively speaking). The stucco guy showed up at 2:20. Without an extension ladder. Even though the service ticket clearly states this is a two story house. Do you want to know how I know it wasn't an extension ladder? Because when he had to get to a spot above a window, he set the ladder up against the glass because it wouldn't reach. So he does his repairs and knocks on my door at 2:50 to tell me he's finished. I go to look and notice a) he only repaired the cracks I taped, and not the larger cracks that were so obvious they shouldn't have required tape, b) he didn't repair the corners of the patio pillars, even though that was specifically called out on the service ticket and c) there were no repairs on the second story. So I asked him, "There are no cracks up there? Really?" And he said, "No. No cracks." Well, how the #@%$ would he know, since he didn't have a ladder long enough to get up there and look? Of course, by this time, I had to leave, so I told him, "Okay, fine, whatever, thanks, get off my property before I shoot you." And when I got back home, I sent my customer service rep a scathing letter of complaint. I got a phone call about 30 seconds later. The upshot is that the stucco company will be sending someone else to my house tomorrow to do the job that should have been done today. Want to bet they show up at 2:30?

Interesting thing #16: When I was in second grade (maybe first) I lost my two front teeth in two consecutive days. I was eating corn on the cob both times. I wouldn't eat it again for years after that because I was afraid of losing another tooth.

Comments

[mrockwell.livejournal.com]

This program sets a specified time limit to the mentor/mentee relationship, so there's no long-term sapping of resources. And nothing quite so ambitious as a novel. You might consider mentioning it to the young man -- they accept applications for mentees, as well (and screen them to make sure they don't have crazy, unrealistic goals), and it's all on-line, so driving distance wuldn't be an issue.

[e-cunningham.livejournal.com]

I'll pass this along. I'm not sure he's willing to scale down his expectations, but it might provide a solution.