Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--
I mentioned that Toney and I want to replace our kitchen floor and
countertops, right? Well, we haven't really gotten into the flooring
yet, but I think we're about ready to say fukkit on the counters.
Suddenly the ones that are on there right now are looking pretty darn
good to us, and I think we'll just keep 'em. Thank you very much. Life
is too short to go around voluntarily seeking-out infuriatingbullshit.
I think Gandhi first said that. And I'm not certain of the exact
function of the stomach lining, but common sense tells me I'd better
try to maintain it. Ya know?
Before I launch into a full-bitch, I thought I should tell you that
Toney has a problem with the term "countertop." She says it's
redundant and stupid. The words counter and top mean roughly the same
thing, she contends, so why combine them? People don't go around wearing
hatcaps.
I can sorta see her point. But we have to live in this world, and the
world calls it countertop. There's no fighting it, so just embrace it.
Right? Just go with the flow.... Yeah, that's what I say out loud. But
the truth is, she's gotten me to the point where I now feel
self-conscious using the word, and I'm cringing all over the place here.
This is highly concerning. I think my wife is turning into me, slowly
but surely. She wasn't always like this; she's always been the voice of
reason. How can we survive with two Jeff Kays running the show? ....Will
somebody please hold me?
Anyway, we went to Lowe's a few days ago, and sat down at a little desk
in the kitchen department. A man in a comedic vest was there to help us,
and everything started out well. We'd brought along a rough drawing of
our counters, with the dimensions and everything noted. He seemed
pleased we were so prepared, and began crunching the numbers. And when
he was finished, the total sounded agreeable to us. A bit high, but not
shockingly so.
Then we got to the fine print.
The total didn't include a sink, he said. But wait, I shouted, I thought
there was a free sink? No, that's only if you buy counters from
the D, E, and F categories, and you've chosen something from C. Well,
how much is a sink then? About seven hundred dollars: five hundred for
the sink itself, and two hundred for installation. And that's when I
nearly swallowed my tongue for the first time.
We went through the whole deal. I had him run the numbers with counters
from the D category, and guess what? The prices were within $11 of each
other. So there was no obvious way to get around the extra seven hundred
bucks.
Unless, of course, we compromised and just went with a stainless steel
sink, or something like that. That's not what we wanted, but it might
very well be the only sane option. Because even if I were a millionaire
with a million dollars in my pocket, I ain't paying seven hundred
dollars for a kitchen sink. I mean, what am I, a complete douche?
We hemmed and hawed, and pretty much decided to go the stainless route.
The final price still seemed fair, and who really gives a crap anyway?
It's a sink.
But there was more....
The guy told us we'd have to remove our old counters ourselves, and
they'd have to be gone by the time the workers arrived to do the final
template. Then it would be a week to ten days before the new counters
could be installed. We'll have to go all that time with no countertops?!
I hollered. Yes, he said, all matter of factly. Then he informed us that
they won't touch the plumbing, that it would be our responsibility.
What the hell, man? So, they basically just carry the thing in? That's
what they call installation?! Will we have to provide a catered lunch,
as well? How about a masseuse?
Visions of Van Halen contract riders
danced in my head. Sweet sainted mother of Esther Rolle!
Oh, he added, we'll also need full payment up-front.
The drive home was a lot of fun. After I exhausted my full arsenal of
cuss words, and invented a few new ones as well, we decided to call some
Mom 'n' Pop cabinet shops and see what they could do for us. If they
start talking the same shit, I said, we'll just have to live with our
current counters. Toney agreed without hesitation.
But it wasn't the same shit, it was different shit. We left
messages at about eight different places, and two called us back. One
said they were backed-up about three months, but they'd love to do our
project if we could wait. Three months. Ha!
The other one, though, sounded promising. The guy was speaking my
language when he said, "All you'll have to do is move the toaster
for us. We'll take care of everything else." He asked me to fax him
a rough drawing with dimensions, and I told him I'd do it the next
morning from work. And I did. I had high hopes; I have limited abilities
when it comes to handyman stuff, but I was reasonably sure I could move
a toaster.
About an hour after I faxed the dude, he called my cell phone and was
giving off waves of attitude. "Um, I just received a drawing,"
he spat, all sarcastic and pissy, "and I'm not exactly sure I know
what I'm supposed to do with it. What is your question?" Then he
gave me a little exasperated chuckle, as if it had now reached the point
where it was funny, all the idiots he had to deal with throughout a
given day.
Man, that really boiled my peanuts. I reminded him we'd spoken the day
before, and he'd asked me to send him that information. "I
don't just go around faxing random people drawings of my kitchen,"
I said. "It's not like I sent one to you, another to Applebee's,
and one to Chrysler Motors."
He backed off a little, and apologized. He said he'd send me an estimate
"in just a few minutes," and did. It was a detailed proposal
that jumped and jerked out of my fax machine, and when I saw the final
price it was my turn to laugh. I mean I was having a great time
looking at those numbers. Quite enjoyable. I'm chuckling right now, just
thinking about it.
He wanted to charge us $49 for fuel to drive back and forth to our
house. I think it's about twelve miles each way, so apparently he'd be
traveling via aircraft carrier. And $300 to unhook our old sink, then
hook up the new one. Three hundred dollars!! Another $100 to rip out our
old counters, and on and on it went, until it became full-on comedy.
So, like I said at the beginning of this questionable update, we're
currently at the fukkit stage.
--
I mentioned that Toney and I want to replace our kitchen floor and
countertops, right? Well, we haven't really gotten into the flooring
yet, but I think we're about ready to say fukkit on the counters.
Suddenly the ones that are on there right now are looking pretty darn
good to us, and I think we'll just keep 'em. Thank you very much. Life
is too short to go around voluntarily seeking-out infuriating bullshit.
I think Gandhi first said that. And I'm not certain of the exact
function of the stomach lining, but common sense tells me I'd better
try to maintain it. Ya know?