Before I climb onto my platform and start bitching and moaning about another topic, let me first say this:
Thank you all for the many nice comments throughout my last series of posts on the story "Big League". Some of you were under the impression that I was writing about taking my own son to his first Major League game. This actually was not the case. The story for the most part was fiction, but some of the events of the day were based on memories I had of my first game.
My mom and dad took me to my first game at Candlestick Park 30+ years ago to watch the Giants play the Padres. It was a beautiful sunny day and the Giants did win the game as I recall. I remember being so excited to go to the game that I literally was sick before hand. I know we drove across at least one bridge, but I'm not sure which one(s) it was. Got to go down to the field and meet a couple of the Giants pitchers, and although I don't recall, I'm sure I got to enjoy a hot dog too.
The comment Eric made about the Giants not winning, but that he had fun anyway, came from a similar comment that my own son made recently. Like the father in the story, I too was blown away by the grown up tones of someone of his age.
So again, thank you! I'm sure another story will jump into my head and beg to be written. When it does I'll be happy to share it.
You are all an incredible bunch of people. I feel fortunate to call you friends.
Now for the Jeckle side of Hyde.
Back in September of '07 we did a job for a contractor at an elderly care facility. We were told by the project manager of this construction company that there was water damage to the ceiling in the dining room at the facility. It would require two layers of 5/8 inch sheetrock on the ceiling that was ten feet tall. It would also require several other sheets of rock to be installed on a drop down soffet.
No problem, we negotiated the price and scheduled the job. We loaded the 24 sheets of 5/8 inch sheetrock into the truck and delivered it to the jobsite.
Now for the problem. When we got ready to install the rock, we discovered that it required two layers of 1/2 inch rock instead. This meant we would have to load all of the 5/8 inch material into the truck and take it back to the supplier, purchase the new material and restock the job all over.
I called the project supervisor and explained the problem and that this would be an additional $400.00 for the labor and restock fees. He agreed to this and told us to proceed.
This is the part where I should have stopped everything and made him put this conversation in writing, but because time was of the essence and I trusted him, we continued. Go ahead . . . say it . . . ”MORON”.
Fast-forward five months. We were paid for the original contract amount, but never for the change order. (the additional amount) I have had numerous conversations with various people at the construction company. Every one of them resulted in the same story; we will look into that and get back to you.
If you’re getting the aroma of bullshit wafting across your nose right now, you’re not alone.
For some miraculous reason, not once have they received any of my faxes, or emails. Strange! Oh, and did I mention that the project manager that hired us no longer works for the company?
Well I’ve decided to write this one off. I’m tired of dealing with them, so I have copied my final email to them for your enjoyment.
Somehow I don’t think I’ll be seeing any payment from them now (not that I ever would have anyway)
Apparently you have no intention of every paying for this change order, so I guess you win.
Just another case of a large company bending the little guy over and putting it to him up his back side!
Please know how disappointed I am with your company. How convenient for you that Dan no longer works for your company and that you were able to drag this out for five months so there isn't any way of him being available to speak the truth into this matter.
I have spent entirely too much time chasing your deadbeat company around on this.
Please consider this an invitation to kiss my hairy white ass!
Now run, don't walk to the next poor small contractor that you can screw and let him know how much you don't care.