Hurry Up And Wait

This morning, I engaged in one of my favorite pastimes...sitting around waiting for a workman. He told me that he would be here this morning, and technically, he was. Eleven o'clock is still considered morning. Barely. And I was wondering why he said the job would take two days. Silly me.

Of course, he is only the latest in a long line of people that I apparently have nothing better to do than sit around and wait for.

The handyman we regularly use is fabulous...but also habitually late. Saturday at 8am? More like 10:30 or 11. Wednesday at 3:30? That is code for anytime between four and five. If I'm lucky.

The phone company says Tuesday between 8am and 4pm. They really mean Wednesday at 4:30pm. If they actually show up at all, that is.

Having furniture or an appliance delivered? Well, since they don't load the truck until the night before, the most you get is a 12-16 hour advance warning as to which four-hour block of time will be sucked out of your life the following day.

Even if you beg these people, the best they will do is tell you that you are number six on the list. And that means??? (What it means is that they have no idea when the guy will get there, but some Harvard professor did a study and found that by phrasing it that way, people are momentarily confused and yet hopeful, and by the time they've figured out that number six means precisely nothing, the call has ended, and it's too late to question or complain.)

The only time anyone has ever been even close to on time was years ago when we moved from our first apartment into our second.

The cable guy was scheduled to come between three and six on Saturday to hook us up.

At around 2:30, my friend Barb and I were at our old place loading up the last of my clothes while Tim and Tom were at the new place unpacking God-knows-what.

Impatient to be done with the move, and never imagining the cable guy would actually show up within the stated time-frame, the guys left before we got back (Tim blames the fact that we stopped at the Wendy's drive-thru for burgers, but this was before cell phones and, hey, we hadn't eaten since about 6am, so I refuse to feel guilty.)

Anyway, when Barb and I arrived at 3:03, it was to find a note on the door from the cable guy basically saying, "I was there at 3:01 and you weren't. Good luck getting cable anytime this century..."

Oh no. This was my worst nightmare come true. Tim without cable. One of the basic necessities like oxygen or food. In fact, if he had to choose between cable and food, well, let's just say he'd make Kate Moss look like Tilly the Elephant after a month-long binge. As a matter of fact, we had started the move on Friday afternoon when Tim found out the cable had been turned off at our old place at noon. No way was he staying there for even one minute without cable!!!

Frantically, I rushed into the apartment, and, with trembling fingers, dialed the cable company. Surely, the guy was still in the neighborhood. After all, how far could he have gotten in two minutes? Pretty far. Or at least far enough that he couldn't (wouldn't) come back.

I begged, I pleaded, I said, "Pretty please with cream and sugar on top." I think I may even have promised them my first child, but nothing would move them. The best they could do was Monday.

Two days without cable. I think this was listed in the Geneva Convention as cruel and unusual punishment, wasn't it?

As I was thumbing through the phone book, looking for a hotel room, and heaping curses on the cable company's head, Tim returned.What followed was not pretty, and to this day, Barb has not quite recovered from the whole spectacle.

You know those shows where they take old buildings and implode them? Yeah, well, that was mild compared to Tim's reaction. Of course, being the meek, mild-mannered little mouse that I am, I handled it with grace, patience and aplomb. (think Godzilla vs. King Kong)

Afterwards, we found Tom calmly continuing with the unpacking and having a good laugh, and Barb at the back of a closet with her hands over hear ears practicing for her testimony at the murder trial.

On Monday, the cable guy came between the hours of twelve and three. Which means he showed up at five.