I want you to imagine you inviting me over to your house. I ring the bell, your dog barks, you open the door and let me in. As I walk in, I start to look around and laugh a few times. Then I say something like “whew, that’s a problem.” Then I laugh a little more and say, “yep, that could cost you a thousand bucks to replace.” Would you be laughing? Of course not. Would you care to shove a pair of pliers up my sniffer? Probably and rightfully so.
Which is why I’m so frustrated by service professionals who come to my house and think my problems are kind of funny. Has that happened to you? Over the years, there have been several instances where I feel like I’m a character in a joke.
I’m sure most of the time, the intentions are harmless. Service professionals are amused by what they see, and they also want us to feel comfortable with what they do. But when it comes to doing work and spending money on my house, I’m in no mood to yuck it up like I’m watching Looney Tunes.
Like the guy two years ago who came to fix a toilet leak and laughed at my duct tape job. Oh forgive me man, is that not what you would’ve done? Because you’re a professional plumber who spends time around toilets ALL DAY? I bet you would’ve pulled out the perfect toilet tool and got that puppy back in order pronto. Congrats sir on your crapper repair acumen. I just love inviting random dudes into my house to look at my toilet, laugh, fix the problem in eight seconds and then charge me $150. Woohoo, now we’re having a good time. Why don’t you open that lid and consider what I really feel like right now?
There was also the bug man, who found a termite mound five feet from my house under a splash block. No lie, he guffawed and then said he had to take a picture for his manager. Oh yes please, and print out out for your break room bulletin board with a picture of my loser face beside it. Here’s the poor soul who has a termite army declaring war on his house. Then, he actually had the gall to recommend a $1,000 termite solution. That’s hilarious. Let me chug this Coke and spew it all over myself because I can’t contain my bellowing mirth. I’ll be right back with my magical piggy bank that’s primed to be shattered for this very occasion. And you wanna stay for drinks? We can talk about how bugs are invading the planet and my home will be a disintegrated pile of rubble in a short matter of time.
Basically, when a pro comes to my home to fix a problem, I want sympathy. They need to know that no matter how much I like people, there are 10 million things I’d rather do than have one come to my house, freak out my dog, take up my space and empty my bank account. Truly, I’m grateful for service pros, but just one time before breaking the bad news I would love for one to shed a tear and say, “Man, I’m sorry. This is the worst part of my job.”