The Saga Continues...

It occurs to me that I have failed to inform all of you about the final outcome of the great hole in the wall saga. In past dispatches I have shown you the damage...

I’ve also shown you the first pathetic attempt at a remedy, courtesy of the alleged workers from the Helen Keller Drywall Repair Company...

After an interminable delay, a new attempt was made to fix the hole which was only marginally better, forcing Pam to try her hand at spackling. Unfortunately, the finished product wasn’t even close to being acceptable. My library wall looks like it’s in it’s first trimester...

So now we find ourselves in the unenviable position of having to report our displeasure to the powers that be. The reason this is so difficult is because the two workers responsible for such pathetic work happened to be two of the nicest guys you would ever want to meet. The piano mover responsible for the hole to begin with could not possibly have been any nicer or more contrite. His buddy, who he recruited to do the actual drywall repair was also kind and earnest almost to a fault. Making matters worse, each evening when they showed up to work, the piano mover would bring along his two year old son, who he had just picked up from daycare, one of the most adorable little boys ever. So, what we have here are two hard working guys doing the best they can, and being extraordinarily kind in the process. Oh, and they were both African-American. That shouldn’t have anything to do with this, but it does. Why? It’s complicated. 

Here’s the thing. I don’t go in for all this collective white guilt claptrap. I am not responsible for the evils of slavery any more than Mexicans are responsible for the human sacrifice of the Aztecs. Past generations have done some horrible things throughout history, but we evolve and move on, hopefully getting better with each generation. But I do feel an obligation as a white American to go the extra mile when it comes to doing business with African Americans. Some of you are probably rolling your eyes at this point out of either frustration at my misplaced paternalism or my willingness to tolerate shoddy work because of someone’s race. That’s fair. I’m confused by it myself. I guess at the end of the day, you don’t do anyone any favors by letting them get by with poor workmanship. On the other hand, I hate to be the one who lowers the boom. It would have helped if they were both jerks.

So, now a full two weeks after the piano accident, we still have no resolution. Our contractor will have to now intercede and redo the work, delaying further that happy day when we will be free of workers traipsing through our house.