Finally came the powwow between Mark and I - that moment of reckoning that we had both dreaded - what to do about the half likeable leech on our fiscal well being. We never said anything when he would repeatedly disappear for a half hour at a time in search of some tool in his little trailer abode or the day John 'searched' for 3 hours one morning for a $3 part before mentioning this quest to us. Mark could have driven into town for a replacement and back again in that amount of time with John actually doing something productive in the interim. But three weeks into this 'one week' extravaganza, he would now not commit to any fixed estimate on cost or completion date because we were apparently changing the scope of work on him. It never occurred to us that eliminating whole tasks such as covering in the trailer bottom or eliminating one entire bathroom would extend this farce. If he was referring to my proposed room lay-out as opposed to the existing, he was correct except that he listened intently and then went ahead and plumbed according to the existing lay-out anyway. When we questioned him on his lack of attention to the sewer, he said that this was not considered part of the 'plumbing' system?!?! Were we supposed to drill outlet holes low in the walls for all the water and waste building up in the trailer? Beyond that bombshell, he now refused to guarantee that we would ever have a functioning system in the end - he was after all just a pipefitter. The thrill was gone and we were fast losing that loving feeling.
*
Two things happened to bring this festering carbuncle to a head: We decided to now only pay John when he had completed the promised work, in hopes that this incentive would quicken up his pace. Secondly, I forced myself to drop a hint to Willy the well man about the rate of progress versus John's rate of compensation. Now, you can't really tell if Willy is listening since he mutters and goes off topic a lot but apparently my comments seeded into very fertile ground ... and would hit the proverbial fan in a big way as we would soon see.
*
John did not show up from town as scheduled for the next milking. When he did show up with his chauffeur/assistant a couple of days later, it was apparent that he was here for an unpleasant confrontation. Their eyes were spider-webbed in red and it was obvious that they had been drinking heavily both before and during the long ride into the canyon. How lovely.
*
From what I could piece together later from his snippets of drunken blather, Willy had indeed passed the word on. Willy's son who had been generously providing lodging for John plus a company cell phone had rescinded those courtesies in disgust. The terms which must have flown about became clear when John muttered "Hmpphh, a crook ... I'll show him ... I'm taking his generator back ... a crook indeed, hmphh!!!"
*
Like me, Mark is not a normally aggressive person but he was in rare form that day in not backing down to John's drunken verbal bluster. I tried to interject some valid points into the debate and John told me "YOU ... stay out of this!" I obliged but began to feel
that ever dreaded anger of protectiveness building up. It was that same buried and personally loathed rage of PTSD that gave me abnormal physical strength when that literally blinding fury had been reached. This same incited wrath once had me counter attack four classic (but rare) Harley buttholes who had physically attacked me for no justifiable reason. On that occasion, I flung them off like rag dolls and attacked the head provocateur of the assault. They scattered and retreated with mouths agape. It was necessary for self-preservation but I was not proud of my accomplishment and now, with this drunken John, I was trying to keep that powerful anger under control. I hoped that he or his helper would not attempt any physical aggression with Mark for I knew that I would lose it with no holds barred.
*
To his credit, John did not succumb to drunken bravado and escalate the confrontation beyond words. Instead, he gathered his borrowed tools with a concluding "Well then, you can kiss-my-butt" and they departed foot-to-the-floor, covering us in a rooster tail of dirt. I had still been hoping for some rational resolution of the matter up until they stopped just up the road and hopped out to unload some of the copious booze which they had been imbibing. Again, I will credit John for being reasonably discreet in this operation but his assistant turned to face the trailer and vigorously wagged his miserable member at us. From that point on, I lost any residual empathy for either of them.
*
To this day, we are not comfortable completing his plumbing job due to the PEX system of piping that he insisted upon. We did go out and buy the outrageously priced set of tools to replace his borrowed ones (over $200 for 2 unimpressive pieces) but have not had the heart to rework this inherited disaster and still remain without indoor plumbing to date.
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The most unfortunate peripheral damage of this encounter was Willy's obvious embarrassment - I am sure he felt responsible for the whole affair even though he really wasn't. As much as we still adore him, he did not stop by again with the exception of replacing the faulty well pump and retrieving his tow-behind trailer. That, to us, was the biggest insult which John had laid upon us. Willy was a fine and rare soul, the type you may be lucky enough to encounter once or twice during an entire lifetime.
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Humor of the day: (from Jim, my buddy in upstate New York)
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ATTENTION!!
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ALIENS ARE COMING TO ABDUCT ALL THE GOOD LOOKING AND SEXY PEOPLE.
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YOU WILL BE SAFE, I'M JUST E-MAILING TO SAY GOODBYE.
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