Jerkwater pricks
Friday I visited a place that makes wrought iron things because I needed a new handrail on my outside steps. Ordinarily, I'd say bag it, but it's rental property and the city will come down on us like a ton of bricks if we aren't up to code. I spend the better part of my free hour driving up and down the same 750 meter stretch of road looking for 1204 fucking North Main. The buildings run so that 1202 is touching 1250. I finally find the place by dint of driving down an unmarked driveway and creeping along the river.

I walk in this shop, have to yell over the clanging and hammering to find the boss and when I walk in the office, I make a joke, "Y'all don't want to be found, do ya?" with a smile. The prick sneers at me and says, "Not really."

Hmm, let's start over. "I need a wrought ir-"

"We don't do anything custom."

"Then why does your sign say 'Custom Ironwork'?"

"We only do custom jobs for builders." Well, I AM a girl, but how does he know I'm not the CEO of the construction company? I'm a little confused.

"I don't need anything custom, I just need to pick out a railing--maybe from the ones in that stack over there?" I point to the workman piling them up.

"Sorry, no can do, you don't have an appointment."

"Can I make an appt now?"

"No, you have to call ahead. Send your husband back Monday and make sure he calls first so I have time for him." and then turns his back on me.

If I'd been thinking, I would have said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought I was dealing with a professional, not a greasy, pigeon-chested, cocksucking useless workshy cnut of a builder*!" and flounced out.

Instead, I hissed, "You clearly don't want any money from me!" and flounced out. If I thought he wouldn't charge me with assault, I woulda slapped that creep.


*UWCoaB patent pending scaryduck
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Sat 14 May 2005, 22:43, Reply)