Today was laundry day. Sort lights and darks, grab some quarters, head down to the basement and… the hot water tank is leaking.
Not like there’s a small puddle that may or may not be condensation, but a 4″ wide stream that is visibly flowing into the storm drain. Probably at about the rate you’d see when you leave the faucet on while you’re brushing your teeth.
Good. So I throw my first load in the washer (because I only use cold water to wash clothes, shouldn’t affect anything) and head back upstairs to submit an online maintenance request to RPM. Marked it high priority. Because obviously.
So after I get off the phone with them regarding my account, shortly before 10am, I get a call:
Him: Hi, this is (unintelligible) from (unintelligible again) Plumbing, got a message about a hot water tank?
Me: Ah, yes, thank you! (that was quick!)
Him: Yeah, I’ll be there in about a half hour/45 minutes to take a look.
Me: That will be great, just give me a call when you get here so I can let you in, the doorbell doesn’t work.
Him: Sounds good. And it may be from a different number than this one, just so you know.
Me: That’s fine I’ll pick up. Thanks!
So I wait. I move my first load of laundry into the dryer, but I don’t start the second one yet because I figure he’s going to have to turn off the water to check it out. Or something. And he should be here soon, so it can wait.
11am comes and goes. I don’t hear anything from anyone. Around 1130 I start the second load, because at this point, whatever. If I have to interrupt the cycle, so be it.
Noon. Still haven’t heard anything. Move laundry into dryer. I need a shower… but I know as soon as I step in he’ll call. So I wait. And I start channeling my inner Gladys Kravitz, checking to see if every car door I hear is the plumbing guy. It never is.
2pm, enough is enough. I call back the number he originally called me from. I don’t even know the guy’s name. A female with a relatively high voice picks up:
Me: Hi, I’m Liz Remizowski, I called earlier about a leaking water tank, someone said they’d come out to look at it, but nobody’s been here yet, I was just wondering if I could get an update.
Her: Uh…. hold on. (Muffled phone, yells to whoever it is. Yelling in the background, probably children? Is this the guy’s home phone?)
Me: (repeat what I said above)
Guy: Yeah, I was already there.
Me: (…) Oh, okay. So… what’s happening?
Guy: It needs to be replaced. I submitted an estimate.
Me: Okay, what’s the timeframe on that?
Guy: Whenever the owner gets back to me on that estimate.
Me: (Christ almighty) Heh, yeah, good luck with that. Alright, thank you.
There are several things about this that really irked me. One: he never called. Not before, not after. Even after he said he would. All the maintenance guys I’ve dealt with call twice: once for “I’m on the way,” and again for “Hey I’m here.” Both as a courtesy to let me know they’re in the house and to keep me updated, since I’m the one in contact with them about what’s going on. This guy bypassed both the courtesy of letting me guard my front door and of keeping me informed – either while he was there or when he was done. You’d think I’d like to know the status of the only hot water tank in the apartment, since I live here.
The second thing: He has to wait for Pete to approve it. Knowing Pete, the basement might flood while we’re waiting. May have to resort to sponge baths.