BISH PLZ
The air conditioner repairman was supposed to come today. I cleared my calendar (seriously, I had other stuff to do) and I rushed home after work and nobody. fucking. came.
So I called the contractor and they were all "whut?" and then said that they'd tried to get in touch with Mr. Borges and he never answered them and so they cancelled the appointment. And then I asked who the hell Mr. Borges was and there was a long, awkward pause. Apparently the contractor was under the impression that Mr. Borges is the homeowner here. And I was like, "Bitch, there ain't no Mr. Borges here, he's probably the poor dipshit who got his ass foreclosed on without paying his goddamn electricity bill"* (no, not really, but that would've been cooler). And she was all, "whut." So I made a new appointment -- the earliest she could fit me in was Wednesday, she said.
I was pissed.
So I called the home warranty company who sent me to this contractor in the first place, and reported the story that the repair contractor told me, which was that the warranty company sent them out-of-date information. And the warranty company read off the information that they had attached to this address -- my name, my phone number, my information.
Which means that the contractor (Parrish Services -- avoid 'em like the plague, northern Virginia!) most likely just looked up the address and got the contact information from a previous claim -- a, like, years-old previous claim.
So I informed the warranty company that this contractor sucks ass, and asked to be referred to another. She found me one that will come tomorrow. Hooray!
So instead of sitting here stewing in my muggy, humid, hot-ass apartment, I squeaked. And shit got done. I love that.
*And the electricity bill thing I know because, basically, I had to pay the past-due balance as part of my closing costs. Asshole.
Anyway. Yes.
Tomorrow night, there is an awesomeness on the schedule: Artomatic. It's apparently this centralized multimedia festival of music and performance art and studio art and film and awesomeness. Cannibal Cheerleaders and Hamsters from Hell, FTW! I convinced Neil that he spends too much time in his apartment, and by means of agreement he suggested this. Sometimes he just impresses the hell out of me, you know?
So I called the contractor and they were all "whut?" and then said that they'd tried to get in touch with Mr. Borges and he never answered them and so they cancelled the appointment. And then I asked who the hell Mr. Borges was and there was a long, awkward pause. Apparently the contractor was under the impression that Mr. Borges is the homeowner here. And I was like, "Bitch, there ain't no Mr. Borges here, he's probably the poor dipshit who got his ass foreclosed on without paying his goddamn electricity bill"* (no, not really, but that would've been cooler). And she was all, "whut." So I made a new appointment -- the earliest she could fit me in was Wednesday, she said.
I was pissed.
So I called the home warranty company who sent me to this contractor in the first place, and reported the story that the repair contractor told me, which was that the warranty company sent them out-of-date information. And the warranty company read off the information that they had attached to this address -- my name, my phone number, my information.
Which means that the contractor (Parrish Services -- avoid 'em like the plague, northern Virginia!) most likely just looked up the address and got the contact information from a previous claim -- a, like, years-old previous claim.
So I informed the warranty company that this contractor sucks ass, and asked to be referred to another. She found me one that will come tomorrow. Hooray!
So instead of sitting here stewing in my muggy, humid, hot-ass apartment, I squeaked. And shit got done. I love that.
*And the electricity bill thing I know because, basically, I had to pay the past-due balance as part of my closing costs. Asshole.
Anyway. Yes.
Tomorrow night, there is an awesomeness on the schedule: Artomatic. It's apparently this centralized multimedia festival of music and performance art and studio art and film and awesomeness. Cannibal Cheerleaders and Hamsters from Hell, FTW! I convinced Neil that he spends too much time in his apartment, and by means of agreement he suggested this. Sometimes he just impresses the hell out of me, you know?