Working Stiff - Countdown to Retirement

Edgar knows I'm pulling his leg. Fortunately, he can take a ribbing and has a sense of humour.

Reyn is about as nice a guy as you could want to know, sublime. Read more of his posts and you will see.

It just happened again. He gets paged because a burner on a stove had some sparks. Does he go and look at it first? No, he calls me for advice. My advice is to go have a look and then call me if he has a problem. I think that would give him more confidence and me a little more rest. I intend having a conference with him Monday.

Turns out, he didn't need my input, as I figured. He called back and said their stove was so dirty, the top element shorted. He disconnected the stove and told them we would fix it Monday. I intend getting them to clean it before any work gets done.

I think you're doing the right thing by talking to him about it. Will save you more grief in the end.

And, thanks for the support. Some folks should step away from the keyboard and take a deep breath before typing.

If you are referring to me, reyn, I concede the point.

Hey, we're all friends here. Let's have a cool Lone Star Beer and enjoy the experience.

I guess the sarcasm didn't come through computer, I was joking around.

I guess those smiley things do have their purpose ocassionally.

There is no real issue here, sublime. No one is upset or even thinking about last night.

Nope, I wasn't.

Everything's fine. We're all buddies here.

Anybody know a good joke?

A man walk into the psychiatrists office and says he had a dream that first he was a wigwam and then he was a teepee.

The doctor said he was too tense.





Oops, you said good joke.
Sorry.

Another two days like the ones just passed could result in ole edgar retiring earlier than planned.

Lie down on the couch, edgar, and tell us about your last couple of days.

Well, doc, it all started when I went down to check on a dishwasher not closing. It was a good product- -when bought in 1983. I determined it needed replacing. Ordered new one. That was three days ago. Went back the next day, because she reported a water leak. Seems the drain line attached at the bottom of the sink was loose. A nut had split from stress of old age. Water had ruined the cabinet bottom and run under the dishwasher. It got under the floor tile. At the same time, I discovered some former resident had installed a water filter under the sink, no telling how many years ago. Had to turn off the water to the building and replace the water valve and water line to correct the situation. Had to recruit help to change the drain line, because the strainer was loose by now. The jamb nut would not let go, until I got a chisel and beat on it for five minutes.

By this time, the new dishwasher had arrived. But I couldn't install it just yet, because the floor tile needed replaced, due to the water underneath it. The floor had three layers of tile. I got a heavy bar and began taking up the tile. By the end of the first day, I had the tile up, except under the fridge. Left it for today.

Today, I moved the fridge, finished preparing the concrete and installed the new tile. Then the dishwasher, then put a new bottom in the cabinet. Put back the fridge after caulking around the new floor.

Looks pretty nice, if I do say so. Where's the Ben Gay and Alieve?

Edgar
Edgar, could have been worse. The water could have damaged the floor (unless it was concrete) and you would have had to replace the floor structure.

Lets all raise a glass to Edgar, a guy who takes pride in his work. A rare trait in this world.

BBB

our upstairs floors are an aggregate over very thin wafer board, with joists on 2' centers. In short, a recipe for disaster. I am in the process of repairing one of these floors as we speak.

Rarely a dull moment. A woman calls the office because her oven is on fire. I run all the way. She and her neighbor are on the front porch, waiting for the fire truck to arrive. The fire extinguisher, less than ten feet away, is untouched. "Is it still burning?" I ask. "Yes," she nods.

I grab the fire extinguisher.

"Oh, I didn't see that," she says.

But the fire has died of its own accord. Just then, the fire department arrives in force. "There's a lot of grease in that oven," one says.

"There's no grease in there," she argues.

I'm looking at a great pool of grease and wondering how she can say that.

Next day, a resident calls the office. "My stove shorted out. There was a great flash, and it about melted a plastic jug."

I rush over. The stove is covered with grease and other food stuffs. He is told to clean it up before it will be repaired.

What planet do these people come from?

A resident has food, clothing, papers- -the works- -all in a jumble throughout the apartment. I go in to repair something, he stands at my shoulder, taking the trash I make as quickly as I make it, and disposes of it in an overflowing trash recepticle, making sure nary a speck is left to clutter up his apartment.

These are but a few tales of . . .
The Naked City.

Okay, first thing that comes to my mind is, why doesn't this nincompoop call the local fire department? If it were to develop into something worse, a lone fire extinguisher isn't going to cut it.

I feel for your situation. The idiots abound in that building apparently. What's the demographics like there?

Actually, most of the residents are nice and sensible. We get just enough who don't know **** from Shinola to keep it interesting.