I sat on the patio yesterday in uncomfortable outdoor temps, attempting this rant on my phone with my thumbs, I didn’t finish.  Today my hands are chapped and itchy from sitting in the cold, but I’m still annoyed and must complete this, thankfully from the comfort of my cubicle!

I am in a unique position because Boyfriend is a general contractor so I have a little more knowledge than the average homeowner. As I’m going on hour three of sitting on the patio watching the construction of my new fence, head pounding, blood pressure surely nearing aneurysm, workers shooting me dirty looks I almost wish I was sitting in the office blissfully unaware.

I bought my house, a textbook “fixer upper,” 11 years ago and on the very long list of repairs needed, the back fence was a high priority.  Behind my house is an open field, I needed a secure barrier between the place I sleep and whatever vagabond happens to wander by.  I’ve since learned that skunks, raccoons, off leash dogs, the occasional fox and drug addled homeless people also frequent the area, so having the perimeter secure is of great importance!

On purchase I knew I would need to spend several months, and several tens of thousands of dollars, to make the house inhabitable, if I hit “comfortable” it was a bonus, but it was a race between projects and funds so I often had to either go with the cheapest solution, or go without. The back fence, well the place where a back fence was supposed to be, as it had just fallen over, was 130’ in length and the cheapest quote for installation was over $10K.

As luck would have it, a guy I knew from high school was willing to help me resolve that fence problem if I kept him in beer.  Beer, being much cheaper than licensed labor, was a rate I could easily afford!  So, he and I spent a couple weekends with a cooler and an auger installing that fence. Total price tag, including beer, was about 30% what the fence company wanted.

It wasn’t a particularly pretty fence, I had to backspace the part about how it ‘stood it’s ground’ because, I think by year 3, it started to fall apart.  First the gate fell off, Boyfriend replaced it.  Then a post rotted out, Boyfriend replaced that, too.  Last year we had a helluva winter and about half the length developed a lean. Boyfriend set a new post to hold it up, but it wasn’t a sufficient repair to withstand another year of wind. The fence was one of the few things I did with my own hands, I was proud of that fence! But the time had come..

Boyfriend has a friend that works at a lumber yard, and that guy recommended a local fence company.  It’s guy code, a general contractor should know better, but why would he pursue multiple quotes when his friend says this place is great?  (Too much foreshadowing?)

The estimator came out to do the measuring stuff, I was putzing around the yard, wasn’t much paying attention, but when I heard the guy with the clipboard ask Boyfriend “is there anything else?” I piped up with my concerns about the gap, frequently left between the bottommost board and the ground on a new fence, and the likelihood the new fence would provide access for small mammals

Over the last ten years I have had to cover many skunk entrance digs.  They are relentless in gaining access to my yard so they can cross into my neighbor’s yard to eat his fruit.  The problem is, skunks don’t want to pay the dog toll, and dogs won’t let skunks just walk on by..  Five.  We’ve been hit five times!  My old fence had an assortment of mismatched boards, half buried in the dirt nailed parallel to the bottom, in an effort to stop the trespassing of the stinkier variety of homeless mammal.

Clipboard guy immediately checks a box “no problem!” he says! Now I want in and ask more questions about the duration and process of the project.  He tells me on day one they take the old fence down, on day two.. “Wait, you are going to leave me, and my two big dogs, with no protection from the elements?” Clipboard guy checks another box “Nope, we can put up a temporary fence!” Huh.  Ok, that’s it for me, I’m satisfied, but listen as Boyfriend details his specifications; pea gravel, deep holes, mixed concrete and furthersuch, Clipboard guy appears to write it all down.

The Monday of install Boyfriend is gathering his lunch, putting on his jacket, about to leave for work, I am standing in front of the coffee maker pouring my first cup and ask “hey, so what’s the plan for the day?”  About to leave, making no effort to hide his annoyance, he replies “what plan?” I remind him I’m in office and can’t be home to manage the fence project. Having all the confidence in Clipboard guy, he tells me, matter o’ factly “Don’t worry about it!”

Very well, I accept!

At 10am a Ring doorbell notification hit my phone. I opened the app to see a man standing on my porch with a flatbed truck full of lumber on the street behind him.  I took a screen shot and sent it to Boyfriend.  His curt “thanks” made me think he might not be in the best mood, considering he was on a jobsite an hour away, but as instructed, I wasn’t gonna worry about it.

When I got home Monday night, I was smug, sure, but smart too, I fully intended to not say one word about the fence. He was venting and stomping, I dipped out back to see what made his forehead veins bulge and was shocked at the mess.  In all the projects I’ve done on my house, all of Boyfriend’s jobsites that I’ve visited, I have never seen such an unorganized jumble of crap.  There were piles of wood everywhere, both old and new.  Post holes had been dug, but left open, no covering, no markers, especially in the dark it was a serious hazard! Tools just dropped when their use was exhausted.  It looked like I’d just missed the rapture.

I stomped back in the house and loudly announced “THERE IS NO FENCE!”  Boyfriend looked at me like I’m an idiot. “No DOG fence!” I corrected. His lightbulb clicked and he went right out to dig through the shed to find the orange plastic fence we’d purchased for some other project and dutifully strung it along the piles of wood.  He did some swears and I instinctively, impulsively, asked “what?”  Like a well-trained dog of Pavlov I was rewarded with a slew of complaints, ending with him pointing to a plastic package of hinges sitting on a pile of cracked fence boards. 

Now I’m no welder, but I know Boyfriend wanted steel gate posts and he’d requested hinges that had some funny name like “wunderswing” and the package he pointed to were the cheap black triangle hinges that you could buy at every hardware store since the 60’s. 

Uhm.

He had tried repeatedly to get in contact with Clipboard guy with no response so I suggested he go to the owner. My sweet little hammer swinger looked at me with equal parts anger and despair and asked “how?” We cubical rats may not be good for much, but we can recognize a corporate email pattern pretty quick. The email address on the quote was “ClipboardGuy[at]FenceCompany” so we can we can safely assume the man we want is gonna be “Owner[at]FenceCompany,” worst case the email bounces back.  Boyfriend pecked out his list of concerns and complaints, hit send and in less than a planck the phone rang.  I smirked.  He answered.  Whatya know, it was the owner!

I’d like to say I listened intently but in truth, I was annoyed, but unbeknownst to me at the time, I’d listened just enough to be useful.  I heard Boyfriend reiterate his list of requirements, items, I must add, were detailed in the quote and were to be paid for – they were not doing a “favor,” this was the job they were hired for!  The owner was apologetic, he offered reassurance that everything would be done as requested.  While their conversation continued, I quietly opened Yelp on my phone to see what kind of reviews Fence Company had.  It was not pretty.

Tuesday I worked from home, Boyfriend left for the day, I put on my layers of pants and socks, multiple shirts, a hoodie, it was going to be cold and I was going to be prepared. Now the fence company owner, anxious to please an irate Boyfriend, sent three car loads of workers to the job. I looked on with marvel thinking things were going to go so quickly! But as I watched from the kitchen window, scrubbing the same coffee cup for the fourth time, I was disappointed in the lack of performance.  Three guys were digging holes, three other guys were just wandering about, one guy had vanished entirely.

Now’s a good time to smoke, unceremoniously let them know someone is here.  I perched on a patio chair and casually looked on.  One of the non-working workers made it clear that my presence was not welcome. Knowing he had an audience; he picked up a breaker bar and hit the ground a couple times and glanced back to see if I was still there.  He made eye contact and scowled. Admittedly I was shocked, as the homeowner I have never had a person, hired to do a job, give me a dirty look.  I settled back and put my feet up, making it clear I had no intention of leaving. 

In Spanish he said something and two other guys laughed. He dropped the breaker bar and walked back to the flatbed truck. I was not tracking his every move, I was watching the job, in general, to make sure the little details were delivered as promised, but his behavior demanded attention. And how would I not notice when he turned the truck radio on, to a Spanish station, and then turned the volume up?  I clenched my jaw and considered my options; not only was this insanely inconsiderate to my neighbors but it was entirely unprofessional!  I could call Boyfriend, I could ignore it, I could walk over and tell him to turn it down?  Thankfully, before I’d reached a decision, one of the other workers went to the truck, turned the music off and closed the door.

A guy walked the length of the property with a tape measure and checked the depth of each post hole.  Typically, the average fence will place posts at 8’ intervals, but the wind can get violent, so in the interest of longevity, Boyfriend insisted on 6’ spacing. I’m sure having to dig 5 additional holes to a depth of 3’ in clay soil didn’t make them exceptionally happy, but it was part of the job. He got about halfway and yelled something to another guy. 

That guy grabbed a bag off the back of the truck, threw it over his shoulder and walked it to the far left.  I couldn’t see the first 5 or 6 holes and thought it would be a bit overkill for me to hike over there to inspect so I waited. One after another, he returned to the truck to get another bag.  When he started dropping bags in front of me, I did boldly walk over to inspect.  Ah good, it was pea gravel.  Boyfriend had insisted that the bottom of the holes were to be filled with rock to promote good drainage, reducing water damage to the post and prolonging its life. I used my phone to snap a picture and sent to Boyfriend via text. While I was staring at my phone another guy approached and dropped a different bag, this one was concrete. With a bit of panic I looked down the row and saw that he’d dropped bags of concrete mix at every hole. I pointed to the bag and said “this has to be mixed before it’s put in the hole.”  The guy nodded and replied “concrete” I said again, while making swirling gestures with my hands “the concrete has to be mixed before you put it in the hole” He stopped and stared, another guy yelled something in the distance and immediately all 8 workers congregated at one of the trucks, one guy on the phone.

I was completely ignorant and had to put my trust in beer guy when I helped build the first fence so when he’d pour the dry bag of concrete into the post hole, I just thought that’s how it was done. You dump the dry powder, then spray it with the hose and poke it with a stick. With my inexperience, it was sorcery! It was perfect!

To be clear, fellow homeowner, it’s not and it’s bad.  Ever make brownies?  You mix that batter and it looks silky smooth until you scrape the edge and you end up with dust on top of your liquid chocolate?  Same idea. A dry pour of concrete will not be uniformly wetted, nor will it uniformly set and you will face a bevvy of problems from there. Prematurely rotted post, a good rain or shift in dirt will loosen where powder remains. No, it’s just all bad.

I called Boyfriend and told him;  I suspect they had planned to dry pour the concrete so I told them no, and I did my best with hand gestures to tell them it had to be mixed. Now nobody is working, they seem to be in a fluster. Boyfriend replied “ok” but got right back on the phone with the owner.

I was getting email alerts on my watch and had to get on the computer to get some work done but I popped the camera to Ring’s live view on my phone and perched it next to my monitor.  I watched as, what appeared to be the lowest man on the totem pole walked back and forth from the hose, coiled at the back of the house, to the farthest post.  I couldn’t take it, work smarter, not harder, dude!  I went out back and on his next approach started unwinding the hose.  I could see in the distance two guys using post hole diggers in buckets to mix the concrete.  At that point I knew everyone on the job hated me.

Roughly twenty minutes later another guy arrived, his body language showed anger.  He had a hopper in the back of his truck – which of course made the guys with buckets happy.  He walked my entire yard, measured things, pulled out a level to check posts, yelled commands at various workers.  Never once did he even acknowledge my existence. My feelings weren’t hurt, my skin is thicker than that, if anything I was pissed, disgusted and partially amused. I will never recommend such an unprofessional group of man-babies.  They look like full grown, adult men, but lack basic work ethic and integrity.

When they left for the day Boyfriend and I went out to put up the temporary fence, which is something that was detailed on their work order.  I picked up several empty cans of soda that had been just dropped in my backyard.  I chased down a burger wrapper that was being blown to the back corner. Then I made the mistake of looking at the other side of the fence.  I didn’t bother with it yesterday, I simply could not, I was exhausted and still had a long list of chores before bedtime, but their mess was worse in the field.  They’d finished their lunches and literally just dropped everything on the ground.  It looked like I’d hosted some kind of music festival, food wrappers, cans, bottles, waxed coffee cups.  I can’t leave it, it’s not my property, but as they were hired to do a job for me, I feel responsible.

I’m in office today, and if I didn’t have dogs that needed to get out of the house for a minute, I wouldn’t have gone home, but being as I am a woman, sans baby, who accepts and honors responsibility, home I went. 

Pulled into my driveway and pushed the button to open the garage door, nothing happened.  Shit! I pushed it again, still nothing.  I so rarely use my house keys, I forget I even have a front door, but since the electronic access isn’t working, I fumbled for my keys.

I get in, leash the dogs and take them out to potty.  There’s a couple guys on the job today from yesterday, a couple new ones. One smiled, one waved. They are probably excited because they’re almost done with me! 

Same, dudes, same!

I take the dogs in and walk over to look at the gate.  Exchange a few words, tell them it looks great, Boyfriend is on his way home and I have to go.

I go in the house, step into the garage to grab a drink, the lights are off.  The fridge is off.  They blew a fuse!  The garage door opener is not working because they blew a fuse.  They had to know!  And it’s not that they did it, I know a guy, it’s no big deal, it’s the fact that they didn’t say anything that infuriates me!

I will have to cool down a week before I can leave a proper review, and believe I will, but it is such a frustration that a well-known local company cannot perform without a babysitter.  The lack of work ethic, the lack of integrity, that lack of basic respect and consideration! but at least I knew.  I knew what to look for, so many home owners open the gate, leave for work and don’t know what happens while they are gone.  The me of ten years ago wouldn’t have known if I’d stood ten feet from the job all three days!

The me of today is the bitch that’s gonna make you do it right!