Just Say NO

My friend had just purchased her first home. She had a hundred different ideas for her new condo—ranging from new patio doors, to landscaping, to re-tiling the bathroom floor. She had a new paint color chosen for each room, and ideas for new light fixtures. She needed a washer and dryer, a new dishwasher, and a new refrigerator. Oh, she also wanted a new bed and mattress, new linens, a new couch, new barstools, and new drapes.

She set about rectifying all these desires at once. I am not kidding. She called in favors from everyone she knew. She called on old boyfriends to help haul and install appliances. She called a plumber friend to address her plumbing issues; she called a hottie she’d picked up at Home Depot to get a deep discount on a storm door. Then she called me.

I like my friend. She is funny, creative, energetic, and generous. She would do anything to help her friends. She would give you her new storm door if you really needed it. So when she called me and asked if my brother could install her new patio doors, I felt extremely guilty about the voice in my head that was shouting out, “Oh, hell, NO!” I’m sure I sounded fairly cagey in my conversation with her. After all, I didn’t really want to commit my brother’s abilities or his time—but most of all, I just felt like I didn’t want to commit to this arrangement. I didn’t want to be anywhere in the middle, beside, in front of, or behind this arrangement.

I finally agreed to call my brother, and ask him, to call her. That would be the end of it for me—after all, the two of them could work it out. My friend was capable of explaining her needs herself, and my brother was capable of determining his availability and willingness to take on this project by himself.

I was wrong.

The project seemed straightforward to me:

1. Contractor inspects door opening to determine appropriate size of doors to install.
2. Contractor works up estimate after considering scope of job, schedule, and costs. (If at any time during installation, scope of job changes due to unforeseen complexities—very common with remodeling—contractor shall review issues with client, and if necessary, revise estimate.)
3. Contractor submits formal estimate to client.
4. Client agrees and signs estimate.
5. Client purchases doors.
6. Doors are delivered.
7. Contractor installs doors.
8. Client pays contractor.
9. Client is happy, contractor is happy, and therefore, I am happy.

It really did seem that simple. I was wrong.

This is how it actually went down:

1. Client convinces contractor that the doors she has already ordered are the correct size.
2. Contractor gives a verbal estimate for the project based on similar jobs he’s done, neglecting to include any calculation of time and materials involved.
3. Client thinks job includes finishing trim work. Contractor does not.
4. Client receives a delivery charge for the doors that she was not expecting to pay (increasing the overall cost of the project).
5. Upon beginning installation of doors, contractor determines that the opening for the doors is sub-standard, making the project much more complex than anticipated, and increasing the installation time involved (see #2 above).
6. Client agrees that any additional labor required should be compensated.
7. Contractor requests that all furniture be covered for the second phase of installation, in order to prevent sawdust from covering everything.
8. Client apparently forgets this request.
9. Client expects to find doors neatly installed, trim work finished on her return. She definitely didn’t expect to find sawdust all over her new couch.
10. Client actually finds doors installed, trim unfinished, and sawdust all over her new couch—and everything else.
11. Client decides she will not pay for any extra time due to the unfinished trim.
12. Client calls me and asks me to intervene.
13. I do—consumed with guilt and believing I can solve the issues at hand.