The "highlight" of my social life

For a short while, there was a "thing" going around our social circle of having theme parties. Mercifully it seems to have died off, however before it did, we were invited to a party where we were to dress as characters from a fairy tale and do a presentation based on the story.

If it helps to visualize this, most of the people involved are, or were teachers.

Moonrabbit chose "The Fisherman's Wife" for us. I went online, and through the magic of Google, found a bunch of fishing jokes. I memorized a bunch of them, and figured out how to string them together as a standup routine. I was the surprize (and surprized) hit of the party!

I thought I had them together in a file, but all I could find were some of the ones I used and some of the rejects. Without further ado...

Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish, and
he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day.

What Do Fish Say When They Hit a Concrete Wall?

Dam!


Four married guys go fishing. After an hour, the following conversation took place. First guy: " You have no idea what I had to do to be able to come out fishing this weekend. I had to promise my wife that I will paint every room in the house next weekend." Second guy: " that's nothing, I had to promise my wife that I will build her a new deck for the pool." Third guy: " Man, you both have it easy! I had to promise my wife that I will remodel the kitchen for her." They continue to fish when they realized that the fourth guy has not said a word. So they asked him. You haven't said anything about what you had to do to be able to come fishing this weekend. " What's the deal?" Fourth guy: " I just set my alarm for 5:30 am. When it went off, I shut off my alarm, gave the wife a nudge and said, " Fishing or Sex" and she said, " Wear a Sweater."


Three blondes are sitting by the side of a river holding fishing poles with the lines in the water. A Game Warden comes up behind them, taps them on the shoulder and says, Excuse me, ladies, I'd like to see your fishing licenses.
We don't have any, replied the first blonde.
Well, if you're going to fish, you need fishing licenses. said the Game Warden.
But officer, replied the second blonde, we aren't fishing. We all have magnets at the end of our lines and we're collecting debris off the bottom of the river.
The Game Warden lifted up all the lines and, sure enough, there were horseshoe magnets tied on the end of each line. Well, I know of no law against it, said the Game Warden, take all the debris you want. And with that, the Game Warden left.
As soon as the Game Warden was out of sight, the three blondes started laughing hysterically. What a dumb Fish Cop, the second blonde said to the other two, doesn't he know that there are steelhead trout in this river?!

A man is out in his row boat when suddenly a passing speed boat raises huge waves and the man's oars fall overboard! He is stranded out in the middle of the lake!
After about two hours, he sees another row boat going by with a man and two women in it! The first man yells, "Hey buddy, can I borrow one of your oars?" The other man yells back,
"They're not whores ... they're my sisters!"


Every Sunday afternoon everyone in the neighborhood would meet at the nearby cross roads and country store to compare their weekend catches. Everyone had normal size fish except this one old farmer who had always brought in huge fish. The game warden heard about this and showed up one Sunday afternoon. After inspecting the old farmers fish, he turned to the farmer and said "If you don't show me your fishing spot , I'm going to have to close you down." The farmer replied by telling him to come out to the farm in the morning and he would take him fishing. The next morning the game warden shows up with his pole and the farmer tells him to climb onto the tractor. They head out into this big field until they come to a little pond. The warden is scratching his head because all he sees is a rotten old skiff, when he expected a large lake and something closer to a yacht. The farmer said to get in and they start rowing out to the middle. About this time the warden notices that there are no fishing poles. As he is about to say something, the farmer reaches into a box and pulls out a stick of dynamite, lights it and throws it into the pond. After the water and smoke settle, he paddles around picking up the fish. The warden's jaw is on the deck. He can't talk for a minute. When he finds his voice, he starts in on the farmer about how he can't believe what just happened and starts screaming to the farmer about all the regulations he has broken. While this is taking place the farmer calmly reaches into the box grabs another stick of dynamite, lights it, hands it to the warden and asks him if he is going to fish or talk.

A blonde wanted to go ice fishing, so after getting all of the right tools, she headed toward the nearest frozen lake. After getting comfy on her stool she started to cut a circular hole in the ice. Then from the heavens a voice boomed, ''THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE.'' Startled, the blonde moved further down the ice, poured a thermos of hot chocolate and started to cut yet another hole in the ice. The voice boomed, ''THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE.'' This time quite scared, the blonde moved to the far end of the ice. Then she started another hole and once again the voice said, ''THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE.'' The very scared blonde raised her head and said, ''Is that you, Lord?'' The voice answered, ''NO. IT IS THE MANAGER OF THE ICE RINK.''

Celiac Disease on The View

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4v-9U8GbLu0

and a PSA

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HCO97hKJb-s&mode=related&search=

Altered Dolls-an art project

Moonrabbit and her many artsy friends have a current project called altered dolls. Each person starts with some form, and it is passed to each of the others, who add something to it. When everyone has worked on each doll, it comes back the to first person.

They have previously done this with altered books and altered boxes.

The handcrafted ceramic face and "hair" are Moonrabbits' additions to someone else's doll form.

What I got out of meditation and Yoga

Green has a post about Yoga which got me thinking about what I have gotten out of yoga and meditation.

Meditation came first, and eventually led to my being almost comfortable taking a VERY beginning yoga class.

In a word, meditation gave me Perspective.

As a journeyman perfectionist of long standing, I was, after much trying and reading, able to let go of the notion of "doing it right". I help this acceptance by thinking of it as "Practicing Meditation" rather than DOING it. It takes the pressure off, and reduces the negative self talk when I catch my mind wandering. I just begin again. It was by watching my thoughts intrude, welling up out of nowhere, and feeling my reactions to the thoughts that I realized that thoughts are only in my mind and are not REAL things. They come and go, and I can watch them or not. When emotions attach to the thoughts, I can chose to fully feel them, or let them pass by going back to concentrating on awareness of my breathing.

So rather than BEING an emotion now, I try to just FEEL the emotion. I am not perfect or consistent in my practice, and actually, I don't formally meditate much anymore unless I'm feeling stressed.

As for Yoga, I take a very beginning yoga class. I have learned to not overdo the poses most of the time. I have learned to let go of those poses that are impossible for me. I try to laugh inside thinking "yah right, what should I do while you're doing that?" I have learned to quiet my inner perfectionist most of the time. You're not supposed to compare yourself to others, but I usually look to see if anyone else's knees are next to their ears when sitting cross legged. I take a perverse pride in being the "worst" student. I figure that anyone else who's comparing can say "Well, I'm better than HIM."

I'm usually the only guy, and oldest person there. But I'm there.

I'm pushing for a "Geezer yoga" class.

The Guided meditation at the end of yoga is different than individual meditation where one can just concentrate on the breath.

To borrow from 12 step programs, "Take what you can use, and leave the rest"

Trivia answer

Since two out of the three people that read my blog have checked in, and the third should know the answer from listening to Moonrabbit and I talk about it...

The item is a Navajo water drum! Apparently made between 1920 and 1940, they were filled with water to various levels for different pitches then covered with hide. It is covered in pine pitch to make it waterproof.

The appraised value is $750.

This was an item in my step fathers collection that we are donating to a Native American museum. In the few notes we found, he thought it was a cooking pot.

Guess What?

This isn't a contest, there is nothing to win except bragging rights.

The challenge is this, identify, specifically, the item in the picture and it's professionally appraised valuation.

Domestic transcript

Keeping in mind we are celebrating our 30th anniversary this July...

Had we been under domestic surveillance Friday night, part of the transcript would have read as follows:

Me: (Raised voice to be heard in front room) Is it OK if I shut off the computer?
Her: Yes

Me: Do you want me to leave the laundry room light on?
Her: Yes

Me: (Figuring I'm on a roll with the affirmative answers) Do you love me?
Her: What did YOU DO!

Fool us once, shame on you.

In a case of corporate-consumer kiss and make up, MoonRabbit and I are the owners of a new, Silver, 2007 Honda Odyssey LX. All is forgiven, but I wouldn't buy a 1999-2004 Honda Odyssey without a long term warranty on the tranny. We felt like we got a good trade in for the dead un, MSRP on the new, a package at a discount and an extended warranty with another discount. We normally don't go for extended warranties, but we're a bit gunshy I guess.

Oh, and they threw in the bridge!

Oy! Such a headache!

No, I'm not jewish, but those words best convey how I'm feeling right now. (BTW, I DO have a literal headache)

It all started last night about 9pm, when wife unit (Moonrabbit) called from her cell phone that her car was having serious issues on an unlit country road about 5 miles from our house, and had pulled over. After brief phone triage, I went to the "rescue". Her Engine light had come on, and the car, a 2003 Honda Odyssey, was popping out of gear sporadically. I checked the manual, and checked that the gas cap was on tight. We were actually closer to the Honda dealer than home, so we dropped it off about 9:30 pm.

We have been Honda owners for over 20 years, so I was confidant that the problem was minor. Having said that, we have had more problems, though minor, with the Odyssey than any of our previous Civics and Accords. About 10:30 am I got the call from the service department. Our 2003 Odyssey, with 59,100K miles on it, needs a NEW transmission! Estimate $4600! Warrantee ran out at 50K.

I transformed into Seriousyak.

So, from about 11 until 3:30 we have been shopping, looking at a new Honda Odyssey vs Toyota Sienna. A service rep came through, and made an offer to repair for about $1000, as a good will gesture. I am inclined to go with a new vehicle, since this one seems somewhat unreliable. We were reminded several times, that if we had ONLY bought the extended warranty, it would be covered. I reminded them that if they feel I NEED an extended waranty, I'm not buying their vehicle.

The Sienna vs Odyssey is just about a tie. Honda appears to be making a very real effort to keep us as customers. We haven't made a decision yet. Keep ya posted. (pun intended)

I never would have been a contender

Iris Uber Alles is playing baseball.

She is probably as good now, as I ever was. The only consolation is that IN MY DAY there was no T ball, no softball, and to the best of my recollection, very little actual coaching. The only advice I remember was "Just let your bat meet the ball." (But of course I still closed my eyes and swung like mad at the first 3 pitches.)

Part of the problem may have been the mandatory nature of my participation. I was asked by maternal parent unit if I wanted to play baseball like my two studly brothers before me, who had clothed themselves in glory with their multi sport prowess.

I declined, and was signed up anyway. (For my own good)

My 45+ year old memories are limited, but include the following.

By observation, I realized I was the 2nd worse player in the league...until the worst one quit.

Some idiot, during a practice, decided to try me at catcher, where I took a pitch right in the forehead, knocking me out for the first time in my life. I'd like to think it wasn't the very first pitch, but I can't remember much.

Banished to right field, I was reasonably content, I lucked out and got assigned to a very good team, (The Cardinals!) which eventually went on to win the championship...without me. Because they had an extra player, when the previously mentioned worst player quit, I got sent to his team. Fate having a sense of humor, caused that team to be sponsored by the local mortuary, meaning they of course had black and white uniforms. They were perennially the worst team with the worst morale.

So who did we play my first game? Remember fates sense of humor? My old team naturally. Did the "coach" tell my old teammates ahead of time? No way! So I had to keep explaining why I was wearing the "wrong" uniform. My only fond memory of this time was that most of my old teammates were righteously indignant for me.

I played a couple of games before I decided that my brothers had used up all the sports glory for our family. (but I was wrong) Without even consulting parental unit, I called up, quit, and arranged to return the uniform.

Many years later, I got a job with Parks & Rec, and spent some time COACHING! "Just let your bat meet the ball". I did have a moment of glory when a game of slow pitch was arranged between the maintenance crews and the playground directors. I was the winning pitcher! (in slow pitch the idea is for the team to hit the ball) Maintenance had all these huge apes who would swing for the non existant fences. Our fielders would stand as far out as they had to to catch the balls. A bloop over the infield would have been a home run, but they kept hitting them long.

My oldest brother became quite a hero (linebacker) in High School football, and I was of a size that I had potential to be a good lineman, and based on my brother's performance I got a lot of pressure to play.

I joined the band instead. (First chair Alto and Baritone Sax)

The all new Amazing Quest!

Last night, watching "Amazing Race", it occurred to me that there is a remarkable similarity to trying to obtain a building permit.

1. Drive 25 miles to the county seat to obtain a building permit.
2. On arrival, and after waiting 3o minutes and being directed to the wrong desk, find out there is a Detour!
3. Return home, get special form filled out by architect.
4. Week later drive back to county seat, wait 30 minutes, clear first station "Zoning" sent to 2nd station "Wells & Septic", Pay, non refundable permit fee of $630, Detour!
5. Because the county has no record of a septic system on your lot, you must have a verification inspection and have system pumped. This may include locating unknown leach field. 2 copies of site plan and floor plan required.
6. Drive 25 miles to county seat, obtain permit, Pay permit fee $409. Call Environmental Specialist to schedule appt for tank verification.
7. Roadblock! The name and phone number you were given is incorrect, obtain correct name and phone number, schedule appt.
8. Contact septic tank pumping contractor, make appt slightly earlier than Inspector so that tank is empty on arrival.

Come Thurs pm we'll see what new twists and turns await us! Remember! Our shit is THEIR bread and butter!

Poop story standby alert

After a second two hour wade through building permit bureaucracy, following immediately on the heals of our tax preparation appointment, it was determined that we need to have the septic system inspected (Verified) which of course opens fate to a wide range of possibilites. Fortunately, I KNOW that it is a concrete tank (no falling though rotten tanks tops here!) But more plans need to be drawn, permits applied for, and appointments made. And, considering the tank hasn't been pumped in maybe 25 years, a pump out. (This also means I will call in professionals, and not be tempted to do it myself.)

In hindsight, to make this a truly wonderful day I should have had a dentist appt, but that's not until the 30th.

Still life with Lily

If Boski wants to flaunt cute kitty pics in an attempt to woo readers...

BRING IT ON!!!

Mind games

Once again, Drunken Housewife, has inspired me! If you visit her site, think soft lovely thoughts, perhaps sing a lullaby.

ANYWAY, many, many years ago I worked with a man who probably could have been crowned as King of the Passive/Aggressives. I remember three stories he told me. The first two involve cruises.

#1. He and his wife were on a cruise many years ago before it was popular among younger people, so most of the passengers were elderly. It seemed EVERYONE was curious how this young couple could afford the cruise, so he told them that they had won an all expense paid vacation, plus money just by returning a coupon in the mail.

#2 As the boat approached S.F., He was in the bar, with an Australian bar tender, who remarked about what a magnificent sight the GG bridge was. My friend, not missing a beat, says, "Yes, it's great, but it's not as wonderful as the original" He proceeded to weave a tale about how the original had come down in the "Great Quake".

#3 Before most of you were born, there was a time when gas stations were predominently full service. My friend had worked at a station during a time when the parent Company advertised that the attendant would brush the bugs out of your radiator if asked. This station had decided that it was easier to blow the bugs out with the air hose. The problem was that only the "lower" island (it was on a slope) had an air hose. One day an elderly lady drove in, and my friend heard her ask "Could you use your wiskbroom?" to which he replied cheerfully, "Just pull it down, and we'll BLOW IT OUT!" Apparently, the question had actually been, "Can I use your restroom?" The lady drove off in a huff, and wrote letters of complaint on up the chain, which caused calls to the station, which when the story was retold caused enormous entertainment. He told me this story with a straight face. I believe the story, I'm not so sure of his innocence.

Neighbors Part two

New neighbors, whose lot abuts the rear of bad neighbor, take on this family as a “project” to help them learn how to parent. They become friends with new neighbors (Earth Mother and High Tech Father and 3 sweet girls) , making a positive impact on them. At least for awhile. New neighbors tell bad neighbors “like it is.”

Mom gets off drugs (supposedly) and gets a job working for the Peacock County Health Dept. She embezzles money and ends up arrested for embezzlement, and then arrested for drugs in our County. She went to trial and landed a year in jail. During this time the Older son (16?)becomes, essentially, the head of house. Dad works constantly and there are male teens constantly at the house—partying a lot. Daughter eventually goes to live with a neighbor after Mom begs the neighbor to take daughter in. Felt daughter would be safer, and they might be capable of dealing with her lice infestation.

Several times a week during the early morning hours, a car would drive by shouting loud obscenities and threats toward Elder son . Someone has not been playing well with others in school. It wakes us and other neighbors up. This continues off-and-on for several months.

Upon release, Earth Mother gets Mom involved with her daughter’s school. Mom’s in therapy as well as daughter.

I approach Dad, the bad neighbor, about helping him get rid of the non-working vehicles. Earth Mother also pushes Mom and Dad to clean up yard and get rid of cars. Earth Mother and I pay for 1 car to be towed. After several more weeks, Donna’s car finally gets towed. The 3rd car was to be given to son. Eventually it disappears.

Elder son has plans to join Coast Guard. He drops out of high school. He has belonged to Sea Scouts for a few years. Not sure what happened, but THAT bridge is burned. He starts getting drunk and starting fights downtown. (underage) He is arrested, is not bailed out. After he eventually goes before a judge on a Friday, and is given probation, he is arrested again on the same charges on the following Monday night. This fight was a drug dispute with a Coast Guard sailor! (Another bridge burned) He does some more time, and upon release gets a job as an apprentice electrician. So now he’s making more than his step dad. When work slows, he is laid off because he is the only employee who has problems showing up on time and taking off a lot of days when he didn’t feel well. More drinking, more fighting, more jail, another good job in an auto body place. Now he’s driving.

Oct/Sept 2004 – Mom and Dad decide to marry. We pull weeds in their driveway anticipating their wedding and to reward them for cleaning up the driveway. Had wedding in their backyard, inviting some of the neighbors.

2005 – Small trailer is placed in their driveway, right next to our bedroom window, to be used “by the boys” as a place to hang out with their friends. Becomes a nightmare—loud parties, drinking, fighting. Teens in and out all day long, even when “boys” not around. Trailer has widows knocked out, etc. Mom and Dad begin to place plants around it to “hide” it more from view.

SWAT Team shows up and arrests Younger son for home invasion and pistol whipping the resident (But he was a drug dealer!) Caught with a gun. Sent to locked facility. Did some major time, almost sent to the “Big Q” .
Cite home owner for code violations. Back yard finally gets cleaned up.
Home Owner tells us he is evicting Dad and Mom. Says he thought about evicting them many times. This does not happen, however.

2006 – Mom “disappears” for 3-4 weeks, and returns with a new boyfriend. Mom and new boyfriend stay at Earth Mother’s house. Dad moves out of house, and Mom and new boyfriend remain at Earth Mother’s house to “housesit” while Earth Mother and High Tech Dad move back to Oregon. Later, they move to another rental owned by Earth Mother and High Tech Dad.

2006 - House finally becomes vacant, landlord does half ass job of fixing it up, new renters found.

Neighbors Part one- a kinder gentler time ends

My beautiful bride wrote most of this...

In May we will have lived in our house for 30 years. We have seen a lot of neighbors on the whole block come and go. We still are only the 3rd longest residents of the block. Our northern neighbor for about 15 years was an elderly lady named Winnie. She was born in Wales but moved to our town as a young girl. She married, and had a son. She was about 80, and widowed when we moved in. Hers was the oldest house on the block, having been moved from across the street sometime long ago. Although she did not have a car, she had a driveway that would accommodate 4 cars, 2 deep, 2 wide. She had a gentleman friend name Emmitt who would visit each day, parking his 1959 chevy in the driveway. She was wonderful, kind and cheerful. Oh, and she was quiet. Eventually her son moved her into his house in Reno. She outlived him by about 5 years, just passing away this last year at over 100.

The house was "flipped" by some "frugal" investors. The next owner was a husband, wife and 2 kids. They were a bit reclusive, but still....quiet. He got a new job south of SF, so they moved and rented out the house.

Renters move in. Couple, with 2 sons, about 9 & 10 (hers) a toddler daughter (theirs). Dad and I share the same first name.

First morning we hear thunks on the side of our house. We step outside, the 2 boys are throwing rocks at the side of our house. Request for a cease fire was met with attitude.

They never seemed to finish moving in, but instead left boxes, appliances, furniture, tools, and other household stuff in boxes in the four car driveway. Their stuff managed to inch its way closer to our yard as time went on. Several times I had to move wood or other long things they had leaned against our house. Occasionally, they’d make room for a non-working car. It looked like Al’s Junkyard. They kept saying they were going to finish and get rid of the stuff. Finally, we wrote a letter to the owner, who apparently called them. By the time he got there at the end of the week, it all disappeared, except for a couple of non functioning cars. Within a week or so, things started piling up again, though not as many boxes. Now they had space for additional non-working cars. I think they had three, at one point.

Within the first several years, small things begin to go missing. Mom starts driving off with guys in sports cars and big burley biker dudes. The male half (they are not yet married, that comes later) who has blue collar workaholic tendencies, looks depressed and works even HARDER, and constantly. Does lots of "improvement" projects of dubious quality around the property. "Stuff" has been accumulating, and continues until they leave. Throughout their stay, male half would do primarily woodworking projects late into the night, highlighted by hammering and use of a high pitched planer. I would have to walk over and ask him to stop after 10pm, EACH TIME!

We had a hot tub put in our back yard, Elder & younger sons sat on their roof, smoking and watching us use the hot tub at night. I think they wanted to see us skinny dipping. Kept finding burned cigarette butts on our patio.

One night we heard a loud noise in our backyard as we happened to walk around the side of the house. Younger son had jumped over the fence and was in our backyard—he had scraped himself and was bleeding. He had no explanation why he had jumped our fence. We escorted him home pretending that we were worried that he had hurt himself.

Additional family came to “visit.” They stay for about a year. Names like Justice, Rebel and Independence (Indy) At least 10 people living in the small house. This situation went on and off for several years, one person even living in the drafty carriage house at one point, and a tent in the back yard during winter another time. One friend who stayed there and/or hung around a lot, my wife calls “Swarthy Man”. He seems to be Dad’s best friend. Another frequent guest is Donna. Donna periodically contributes to the non running car collection when a jilted lover ruins her old BMW by putting sand in the rebuilt engine.( she loves the BMW more than ANYTHING)(actually she has two) Donna is a chain smoking, loud mouthed, big boobed, blond bimbo. One year, around Christmas when my late mother in law was visiting from out of state, Donna side swiped MIL’s car the day before she was set to leave. Fortunately, swarthy man has an auto body shop, so he fixes it for free in a couple of days.

Dad manages to knock over our garbage can in the street awaiting pickup, spilling it out. I happened to be walking out the front door when this happened. He made no effort to pick it up so wife did (with some attitude, admittedly). He called her a bitch. Around this time He “went away” to a county lockup for 6 months somewhere for not paying child support.

Mom asked me to give Younger son a lecture about the hazards of messing with matches—being a fireman and all. She’s mostly concerned about fires as she had found him lighting matches and setting small things on fire. WE see him lighting small fires. I am still impressed with the prophesy of my "chat". One of the things I told him was that he was just one of those people who always gets caught.

Mom gets a new boyfriend, but Dad still lives in the house. Boyfriend was just out of jail and sometimes stayed at the house. Big fights. Dad leaves loudly, many times. They separate, but Dad comes back within a few weeks and boyfriend leaves (back to jail?) Rent a room to a Latin couple with a baby. This lasts for several months, giving way to the couple leaving and family members and swarthy man coming and going all the time. At least 8 – 10 people there again off and on for another couple years.

Neighbors

After a period of blog blank, where I couldn't think of ANYTHING to write about, Drunken Housewife ,has once again inspired me.
The only problem is this. For the worst neighbor, it is a ten year long epic tale which includes, but is not limited to, at least two felony convictions, SWAT teams, drunken family fights, Meth addiction and recovery, numerous abandoned/run over cats, lies, betrayel, abandoned vehicles in the driveway next to our bedroom, a crappy trailer which replaced the abandoned vehicles and became party central briefly, Sea Scouts, and lice.
I don't know where to begin.

Is it paranoia,cynicism, an overactive imagination...

Or is it a CONSPIRACY?

I got a notice from SBC that "our" contract is about to expire and I can UPGRADE to double my download speed for just a few bucks more. At the same time, it seems like things are running SO SLOW recently. I've done disk cleanup, Ad Cleanup, checked the defrag.

I have pictures of cats, and I'm not afraid to use them!

You can't win if you don't play. How many of YOU tried to come up with a fitting nom de blog for Iris Uber Alles?

Local vs Big Box or online buying

Somewhere recently, I read about a father/son discussion about where to make a purchase (shoes?). Dad presented the son with the idea of price vs supporting local business and people. I was reminded this afternoon of another factor in the equation. Service. It almost seems automatic that local business provides better service, but that is NOT always the case. About a year ago, she who must be obeyed, decreed that we needed new, preferably granite counter tops. This would be a substantial investment, and I thought we should shop locally. We first went to a granite company just a few blocks from our house. We walked in the door which chimed, announcing our arrival. We walked past a door where there was a person on the phone. We waited, and waited, and waited, and waited some more. Eventually another person walked in without acknowledging us, rummaged around for a car part and left. We waited some more, looking at a few samples that were laying around. Finally the first person came in, and we explained our interest. He seemed bored, offered us a couple of samples and we were on our way. No one met us when we returned the samples. Another local company specializes in kitchen and bathroom remodels. As soon as we indicated that we only wanted a new counter top, they lost interest. Still wanting (for some reason, are we masochists?) to support local business, we thought we could buy the new sink and faucet. We were shuffled off to Jessica, a cheery young girl about 20. We explained the measurements of the counter which were custom made. We loved a Farm house sink and picked a faucet to go with it. The sink did not have holes for the faucet, it would have to be in the counter top. I explained several times the space limitations. I got a cheery "Oh, It'll be just fine" The sink is a special order, no return. There is (or I should say there WAS a 25% restocking fee) $1300 later the sink and faucet arrive. I start taking measurements, there is NO DAMN WAY this is going to work. Jessica cheerfully refunded the money for the faucet (minus 25%) and when I asked if they could at least help me try to sell the sink, "Oh NO, we couldn't do THAT"
We eventually sold the sink for half price on Craig's List, bought a sink that WOULD work from a local hardware store (which got bought out by Home Depot right after we got it) and had the counter done through Costco, where we had a personal rep who walked us through the whole thing, meeting with us at the granite company etc.
I can deal with surly teenaged help, but the attitude of some local business's is just beyond my understanding.