My main drain was clogged. Sewer drain, you dirty minded rascal.
After 3 hours of trying, I admitted that the 50-foot drain snake I had on hand wasn’t enough to reach the clog. Sewage was still filling our downstairs tub and toilet. So my wife called a plumber.
The following day, the plumber arrived 20 minutes after the end of the 6 hour window we were quoted. He parked his van facing the wrong way on our street, left it running and retrieved a commercial sized drain auger from the back.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes!” I exclaimed as I met him at the curb. “We’re so excited to get the house smelling normal again.”
“U huh.” He replied.
“I’m Alex.” I said.
“Hey.” Hey replied.
He’s not in a great mood, I guessed. Well, I’d make things easy for him.
“Main drain access is right here in the yard. I’ve removed the cap, and there’s an electrical outlet for the auger right there.” I said, pointing.
Wordlessly, he went about the job at hand. Ten minutes later he returned his machine to the van.
“It’s clear,” he said flatly.
“Wow, that’s awesome! I’m impressed at how fast you are.” I complimented.
He climbed in his van, closed the door, and began writing up an invoice. A few minutes later he emerged and handed me a sheet of paper.
“Six-hundred dollars,” he said. “And I don’t take checks.”
Considering the $3,600 an hour rate I was charged, I think maybe I’ll go to trade school to be a plumber. Considering the plumber’s gruff demeanor, maybe it’s not as much fun a trade as I might have wished.
In any case, the whole experience left a lot to be desired. But the most disconcerting part to me was that not once in our one-sided interaction did he make eye contact with me.
That plumber may have a vibrant personal life. Maybe he is a world class guitarist. Perhaps he heads up a great number of community outreach programs for his church. Or his oil paintings are in great demand world-wide.
To me, he was the gruff, creepy, ridiculously expensive plumber that I would never hire again.
And to me, he was his work.