Our drywall guy, A________, was bad. Well, I suppose that's not true. He was good for someone who was doing a fairly precision job under the influence of several beers.
He showed up late, left early, took lots of breaks and what was supposed to be a 2 to 3 day job turned into 5, with happy hour starting on the 4th day at around 10:45 AM. It was stressful, frustrating and disappointing. We just wanted the dude out of our house. What's so stupid is we agreed to a flat fee and so the longer he took the less he made per hour. We thought maybe he just wanted to come over.
After he finally finished, on a Sunday morning, he had the cojones to ask for the remainder of his payment in cash. HUH? He said his check cashing place charged $5, so we gave him a fiver and said hurry up and get the heck out, fella. Or something along those lines. He said he'd come back to sand down the joints and we said when hell freezes over...
So we sanded, with the help of Treavor. And the walls were ready for painting and tile. YES.
The beauty of sanding is the dust gets carried on any air flow and settles on everything.
Naturally, Karen and the compound's new favorite toy, the wet-dry vac, went to town. Karen makes cleaning sexy!
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