Hah. I know this means nothing to you, but I drove into downtown Norfolk today to go to work. I lug all my shit to the 4th floor of this building. (Compressor, hoses, cords, guns, chop saw) I had to install one wall of baseboard in two offices. The project manager measured for me and told me the height on the base was 4 1/4". Cool so when I found the base at the lumber yard, they only made it in 5 1/2. No biggie. Yesterday I got that shit home and ripped it all down to 4 1/8 so I would have some wiggle room when tying in to the old shit.
So fast forward back to today. I go to slide my base into place and donk it’s 5/8" too tall. What the fuck? I go into the next office over and donk it’s 3/8" too short! Are you kidding me right now? These offices next to each other have two different base heights and the project manager didn’t get either of the measurements right. Okay… That’s my fault. No biggie. So I back track to Portsmouth across the river and grab some more base. I then back track home and rip this base to the appropriate size. I load up the van and then cruise back to down town Norfolk. This time I brought my table saw in case there was anymore foolishness. There was not anymore foolishness.
The company I did this job for is still waiting on my certificate of insurance for my vehicle. It’s been several weeks now and I have emailed my agent several times to get this show on the road. I gave Sally a call at the business and asked if she had heard anything yet and she says NO. I’m like that’s cool. I’m in downtown town Norfolk right now, I’m gonna swing by their office and find out what their fucking problem is. I pull up on their building and I’m hella confused. I’ve never been here before and it looks sketchy as fuck. I open the door to the place and I’m in some back alley Doctor clinic scam pill mill type shit. I’m looking around and I see some raggedy door that’s closed off to the side that has my insurance companies name taped to it. I’m getting hella better call Saul vibes from this dump hole when I feel a hand grab my shoulder. I see some watery eyed old guy with a stethoscope around his neck. He looked hella sick and he asks me “are you looking for the insurance people,” in a soft and strained voice. I nod yes and he continues on “they don’t work from the office anymore…” Yeah no shit. This place is sketchy as hell. He slowly extends his arm towards me holding a business card that looks to be 40 or 50 lbs as he trembles from its massive weight.
It’s a card for some one in the insurance office. I grab the card and as I’m looking around I’m regretting that I didn’t mask up before crossing the threshold into this probable disease pit. I thank him as I turn on my heels and bolt for fresh air. As I hoist myself into my creeper van, I pull out my cell phone and call the number provided. It goes to voicemail, and why wouldn’t it. I leave a voicemail full of long hard sighs and disappointment. I hang up and head home. Not 5 minutes later I get a call from my agent. She doesn’t have any idea what’s going on or who I am or why I’m upset. I told her to look at her emails and everything she needs to know is in there. She Okie dokies me and says she’ll take care of it right away.
Fast forward to right fucking now. I get cc on an email from my agent to this company. Friggin sweet! It finally happened. My wife opens the email and instantly says “why the fuck did this retarded bitch send them a copy of our insurance policy from 2020?”
Y’all.
Pray for me.
