Failure to Communicate

Every spring, we have our gutters cleaned out and all our brick work power washed and sealed. (Tim and I used to do it ourselves, but in the long run, we figured hiring someone else to do it was cheaper and easier than hiring divorce lawyers.)

When I called this year, the guy told me they would come on Monday...or Tuesday...maybe Wednesday. Definitely no later than Wednesday (and I thought the cable company was bad for giving me an eight hour window?).

Monday came, they didn't. But Tuesday morning, seven am, we heard a clattering up on the roof. Since it wasn't December, I knew it had to be either the work crew or some really big squirrels and not a jolly old elf. Rushing outside, I found an army of workers scurrying to and fro over the roof, filling large green garbage bags with debris.

As I went to join the crowd of neighbors that had gathered to watch the spectacle (it's amazing what passes for entertainment in this neighborhood), I spied the boss and approached him.

Figuring it had been about a week since I had talked to him, I wanted to make sure he remembered everything I wanted done. As we toured the yard, he nodded vigorously in agreement as I pointed to the porches, the walks, the patio and the driveway.

Yes, yes. Power-washed.

And sealed.

Yes, yes. And sealed.

But make sure you aim the power washer away from the pool so that all the dirt doesn't end up in the pool.

Yes, yes. Away from the pool.

And the cabinets need to be moved off the back porch before you power wash because they are wood (well, fake wood from Target, but definitely not water-proof).

Yes, yes. Move the cabinets.

Okay then, I'll be here if you need anything.

Yes, yes. No problem.

Problem. Big problem. Problemsssss. Plural.

Ten minutes later when I went out to wash down the patio furniture, the "crew" had been reduced to one guy who was not much bigger than an elf (I am 5'4" and I looked like Sheena, queen of the Amazons next to him), who was happily aiming the power washer toward the pool.

He then proceeded to turn it toward the cabinets, which were still sitting on the back porch.

Okay,what we had here was a failure to communicate.

Foolishly, I tried to correct the situation. Using a combination of pantomime, charades and a voice that would make Ethel Merman flinch, I got him to redirect the power washer, and assure me that he would have help moving the cabinets. I just didn't realize at the time that the "help" would be me.

As we hefted the cabinets, one by one, and carried them off the porch, I tried to figure out where everything had gone so horribly wrong. I was distracted from my musings though when my coworker decided to push the dirty water off the porch and into the cabinets we had just moved out of harm's way. What did he have against my poor cabinets?

Eventually though, the power-washing was finished and we were able to tackle the whole issue of sealing everything that had just been cleaned.

Yes, yes. Everything sealed. The crew will come and do it.

Uh, uh. I fell for that once before, and had the calluses and sore muscles to prove it. Besides, I had an appointment and had to leave for about a half hour.

Once again, I tried to convey, in detail, what needed to be done, and once again, we had that same failure to communicate.

When I left, he was busily sealing the brick from the gate to the patio. When I returned, he was gone and he had sealed the brick from the gate to the patio. Period. Didn't touch the patio, the driveway, the front walks, the porches. Just sealed the one walkway and left.

Trying to keep my head from exploding, I called the boss and did my best to explain why he wasn't going to find a check in the mailbox.

Yes, yes, he assured me, it would be finished the next day.

And it was. Or at least the rest of the walks were. But not the patio or driveway. That happened on day three and day four along with a lot of teeth gnashing and hair pulling.

Maybe I should just look into divorce lawyers for next year after all.