LARRY THE SHIT

Buying an apartment that’s just short of a wreck poses a challenge and digs a big hole in your bank account. Such was the case when I bought a two-bedroom co-p that wreck though it was, it had infinite possibilities.  So I hired a contractor who seemed to know what he was doing but soon learned the he was not only incompetent but a pathological liar. Larry the Shit, as I came to refer to him, walked under a black cloud. His car broke down frequently, he was stuck on the highway for hours due to a terrible accident, and the supplier didn’t deliver, whatever.  It was a litany of creative excuses.

He and I agreed upon what was required – an endless list of improvements – and the work began.   His employees knocked out walls, ripped out the kitchen which was vintage 1950 and ditto for the bathrooms. I had never met the previous owner but I took to referring to him as Attila the Destructible. Whatever I touched in the apartment fell apart – the broiler door had missing screws and fell apart, there were fifty three inch nails hammered into the wall of a bedroom closet, ad nauseum, that I yanked out one by one.

The work progresses slower than I would have liked – typical – but friends warned me that would happen. The, one day when I returned fro the officer, I was excited to see that both bathrooms had new sinks, faucets and toilets. I lifted the lid of one of the toilets and it banged down.  Same for the seat.  They wouldn’t stay up. The banjo shelf that extended from the sink behind the toilet was the problem. Actually, it was the toilet because the lid and seat were too long so they could never fully open.

Did I get upset? You bet. I called Larry congratulating him on the completion of the bathrooms.  “However,” I said, “Larry, I want to meet the man secure enough to pee in that toilet because unless he holds the seat up wit his hand, he’ll be missing a vital appendage. Additionally, Larry the gadget one presses to flush the toilet is so close to the sink cabinet, one needs to be a midget to get one’s finger to press it.  And Larry, I ordered brushed chrome faucets and these are shiny.  Not good.”

Was Larry upset? Not more than his usual hysteria. Now he had two options. Replace the toilet with one that was more shallow and with a flushing gadget on the other side of the tank or replace the sink cabinet which was much too large for the space. You know, lower the water or raise the bridge.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. The reason the faucets are shiny is they were out of the brushed ones but I’ll take those back and get the promised ones.” Sure.

The bottom line of this experience was that I never heard from Larry again. I found myself functioning as a General contractor. I ordered anew sinks, faucets and toilets. Larry claimed I owed him money in a lengthy letter. I claimed the same. Stalemate. He got nothing and I paid nothing.  Fair enough.