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a funny story
Bruce_6
Member Posts: 67
guys just like this...........scary!!!
Laurel & Hardy, Plumbers
We had a slab leak in our house, while still under warranty. The builder sent technicians from the installing plumber to take care of the problem. The good news is that they seemed to be technically competent to handle the plumbing. As far as the rest
The leak was located under the slab in the master bedroom closet. I pointed out the general area where I thought the leak was and not wanting to be a pest, I left them to do their job. I was reading in the living room when the first plumber (Call him Laurel) came out and asked, "How do you unlock the closet door?"
"Well," I said, "You don't because there's no lock on the door."
"Oh," said Laurel and disappeared.
I sat for a minute then decided I better check and see what was going on. I went to the master bath room and heard the other plumber (call him, Hardy) exclaim, "Ouch, that hurts" from behind the closet door.
"Watch it," said Laurel, "that's a sharp knife."
"I just figured that out," muttered Hardy.
I asked, "Is something the matter?"
"He's locked himself in," said Laurel.
"I can't see what I'm doing," said Hardy.
No light was coming from under the door, so I suggested, "Try the light switch. It's on the right, next to the door."
Light poured out of the bottom of the door. "Hey, that's a lot better."
"He's trying to take the door handle off," explained Laurel, "It's the only way he can get out."
Remembering the comment about the knife, I asked, "Do you want a screwdriver?"
Laurel just looked at me, like the concept of a screwdriver to remove a screw was foreign to him. Then again, maybe it was.
I went to get a screwdriver, but by the time I got back, Hardy managed to get the door handle off. He was standing there holding the knife in one hand and wiping blood on his shirt with the other. I left the room to keep from laughing.
A few minutes later, I revisited the scene. Laurel was busy trying to reassemble the door handle. He couldn't quite figure out how to do it, so he left it hanging halfway on the door (it only took me five minutes to fix it after they left).
Since Laurel couldn't get the door handle back on, he was afraid he or Hardy might lock themselves in again (even though the door doesn't lock, never had before, and never has since). Laurel decided to tape the door's bolt open (apparently it never occurred to them to simply leave the door open). All he must have had was some kind of super tacky black duct tape because he covered the door with it. Once applied, parts of it never came off. There are still black marks around the door handle that won't come off. Eventually, I'm going to have to repaint the door.
Laurel located the leak. Trying to be conscientious, he carefully moved the refrigerator back from the wall in the kitchen and took everything off the top. "These might come off when we jackhammer," he said.
I appreciated his thoroughness. However, the refrigerator was fifteen feet away from the leak. Laurel failed to move my wife's treasured breakables that were placed around the master bathtub, around five feet from the leak. Of course, once Laurel started jackhammering, the breakables broke.
Laurel finished the jackhammering and located the leak. He then declared he had to run to the supply house, but that Hardy was staying. A few minutes later Hardy came out and asked for a cup. I thought he was thirsty, so I have him one, filled with ice water. He looked at me like I was strange and disappeared back into the bedroom. I went back to my book in the living room.
A few minutes after that, Hardy came walking out the front door carrying a bucket. He repeated the process a few minutes later and again, a few minutes after that.
Curiosity got the better of me and I went to the closet. Hardy was on the floor over the slab leak using the cup I gave him to scoop water from the hole in the slab and fill the bucket. He was using one hand to scoop the water while he held the other, cut hand, in the air so that he didn't get it dirty (or dirtier). The water was gradually rising in the hole.
"Don't you have a pump?" I asked.
"Pump?" Hardy looked befuddled.
I had to leave to keep from laughing.
After a while (i.e., enough of Hardy's bucket trips that I lost count), Laurel returned. They eventually got the water under control, though the cup was ruined in the process.
Laurel came out to tell me someone from the shop was coming by to pick up Hardy for another job, since he wasn't needed to finish up. I decided to run some errands and told Laurel I was going to Lowe's.
"Could you pick up some rebar?" he asked, "I forgot it."
About the time I returned with Laurel's rebar, the mini-pickup from the shop showed up for Hardy. The truck had been hit somewhere down the line. One rear quarter panel was pushed in so far that the top of the tire was exposed. The bumper was bent straight up over the tailgate, then forward, then sideways, then down, in a pretzel configuration that looked more like a preformed radiator hose than something done to heavy gauge steel. By now, this was the type of vehicle I'd come to expect from these guys. My wife and I call their installation truck, the Exxon Valdez, since it's as big as a tanker and leaves an oil slick everywhere it goes.
Laurel eventually finished. He didn't clean up, though he did move the refrigerator back. He left to door handle hanging partially assembled, with back tape holding the bolt. He never offered to replace the cup or pay for the rebar (remember, this was warranty work). Fortunately, he did get the slab leak fixed.
While this sounds like a funny plumber story, it's really a scary one. Later, when the builder was asking about the repair, he mentioned that the plumbing contractor had sent their best crew to our house. Now that's scary.
Laurel & Hardy, Plumbers
We had a slab leak in our house, while still under warranty. The builder sent technicians from the installing plumber to take care of the problem. The good news is that they seemed to be technically competent to handle the plumbing. As far as the rest
The leak was located under the slab in the master bedroom closet. I pointed out the general area where I thought the leak was and not wanting to be a pest, I left them to do their job. I was reading in the living room when the first plumber (Call him Laurel) came out and asked, "How do you unlock the closet door?"
"Well," I said, "You don't because there's no lock on the door."
"Oh," said Laurel and disappeared.
I sat for a minute then decided I better check and see what was going on. I went to the master bath room and heard the other plumber (call him, Hardy) exclaim, "Ouch, that hurts" from behind the closet door.
"Watch it," said Laurel, "that's a sharp knife."
"I just figured that out," muttered Hardy.
I asked, "Is something the matter?"
"He's locked himself in," said Laurel.
"I can't see what I'm doing," said Hardy.
No light was coming from under the door, so I suggested, "Try the light switch. It's on the right, next to the door."
Light poured out of the bottom of the door. "Hey, that's a lot better."
"He's trying to take the door handle off," explained Laurel, "It's the only way he can get out."
Remembering the comment about the knife, I asked, "Do you want a screwdriver?"
Laurel just looked at me, like the concept of a screwdriver to remove a screw was foreign to him. Then again, maybe it was.
I went to get a screwdriver, but by the time I got back, Hardy managed to get the door handle off. He was standing there holding the knife in one hand and wiping blood on his shirt with the other. I left the room to keep from laughing.
A few minutes later, I revisited the scene. Laurel was busy trying to reassemble the door handle. He couldn't quite figure out how to do it, so he left it hanging halfway on the door (it only took me five minutes to fix it after they left).
Since Laurel couldn't get the door handle back on, he was afraid he or Hardy might lock themselves in again (even though the door doesn't lock, never had before, and never has since). Laurel decided to tape the door's bolt open (apparently it never occurred to them to simply leave the door open). All he must have had was some kind of super tacky black duct tape because he covered the door with it. Once applied, parts of it never came off. There are still black marks around the door handle that won't come off. Eventually, I'm going to have to repaint the door.
Laurel located the leak. Trying to be conscientious, he carefully moved the refrigerator back from the wall in the kitchen and took everything off the top. "These might come off when we jackhammer," he said.
I appreciated his thoroughness. However, the refrigerator was fifteen feet away from the leak. Laurel failed to move my wife's treasured breakables that were placed around the master bathtub, around five feet from the leak. Of course, once Laurel started jackhammering, the breakables broke.
Laurel finished the jackhammering and located the leak. He then declared he had to run to the supply house, but that Hardy was staying. A few minutes later Hardy came out and asked for a cup. I thought he was thirsty, so I have him one, filled with ice water. He looked at me like I was strange and disappeared back into the bedroom. I went back to my book in the living room.
A few minutes after that, Hardy came walking out the front door carrying a bucket. He repeated the process a few minutes later and again, a few minutes after that.
Curiosity got the better of me and I went to the closet. Hardy was on the floor over the slab leak using the cup I gave him to scoop water from the hole in the slab and fill the bucket. He was using one hand to scoop the water while he held the other, cut hand, in the air so that he didn't get it dirty (or dirtier). The water was gradually rising in the hole.
"Don't you have a pump?" I asked.
"Pump?" Hardy looked befuddled.
I had to leave to keep from laughing.
After a while (i.e., enough of Hardy's bucket trips that I lost count), Laurel returned. They eventually got the water under control, though the cup was ruined in the process.
Laurel came out to tell me someone from the shop was coming by to pick up Hardy for another job, since he wasn't needed to finish up. I decided to run some errands and told Laurel I was going to Lowe's.
"Could you pick up some rebar?" he asked, "I forgot it."
About the time I returned with Laurel's rebar, the mini-pickup from the shop showed up for Hardy. The truck had been hit somewhere down the line. One rear quarter panel was pushed in so far that the top of the tire was exposed. The bumper was bent straight up over the tailgate, then forward, then sideways, then down, in a pretzel configuration that looked more like a preformed radiator hose than something done to heavy gauge steel. By now, this was the type of vehicle I'd come to expect from these guys. My wife and I call their installation truck, the Exxon Valdez, since it's as big as a tanker and leaves an oil slick everywhere it goes.
Laurel eventually finished. He didn't clean up, though he did move the refrigerator back. He left to door handle hanging partially assembled, with back tape holding the bolt. He never offered to replace the cup or pay for the rebar (remember, this was warranty work). Fortunately, he did get the slab leak fixed.
While this sounds like a funny plumber story, it's really a scary one. Later, when the builder was asking about the repair, he mentioned that the plumbing contractor had sent their best crew to our house. Now that's scary.
0
Comments
-
as Dan would say-
in the land of the blind---hehehe0 -
Seems to me......
you need a hobby !!
MJ0 -
you mean
this isn't a hobby??
0 -
you need not pick on the handicapped
what if someone reads this to them?
MJ0 -
Something is happening,
> guys just like
> this...........scary!!!
>
>
>
> Laurel & Hardy,
> Plumbers
>
> We had a slab leak in our house,
> while still under warranty. The builder sent
> technicians from the installing plumber to take
> care of the problem. The good news is that they
> seemed to be technically competent to handle the
> plumbing. As far as the rest
>
> The leak was
> located under the slab in the master bedroom
> closet. I pointed out the general area where I
> thought the leak was and not wanting to be a
> pest, I left them to do their job. I was reading
> in the living room when the first plumber (Call
> him Laurel) came out and asked, "How do you
> unlock the closet door?"
>
> "Well," I said, "You
> don't because there's no lock on the
> door."
>
> "Oh," said Laurel and disappeared.
>
> I
> sat for a minute then decided I better check and
> see what was going on. I went to the master bath
> room and heard the other plumber (call him,
> Hardy) exclaim, "Ouch, that hurts" from behind
> the closet door.
>
> "Watch it," said Laurel,
> "that's a sharp knife."
>
> "I just figured that
> out," muttered Hardy.
>
> I asked, "Is something
> the matter?"
>
> "He's locked himself in," said
> Laurel.
>
> "I can't see what I'm doing," said
> Hardy.
>
> No light was coming from under the
> door, so I suggested, "Try the light switch. It's
> on the right, next to the door."
>
> Light poured
> out of the bottom of the door. "Hey, that's a lot
> better."
>
> "He's trying to take the door handle
> off," explained Laurel, "It's the only way he can
> get out."
>
> Remembering the comment about the
> knife, I asked, "Do you want a
> screwdriver?"
>
> Laurel just looked at me, like
> the concept of a screwdriver to remove a screw
> was foreign to him. Then again, maybe it
> was.
>
> I went to get a screwdriver, but by the
> time I got back, Hardy managed to get the door
> handle off. He was standing there holding the
> knife in one hand and wiping blood on his shirt
> with the other. I left the room to keep from
> laughing.
>
> A few minutes later, I revisited the
> scene. Laurel was busy trying to reassemble the
> door handle. He couldn't quite figure out how to
> do it, so he left it hanging halfway on the door
> (it only took me five minutes to fix it after
> they left).
>
> Since Laurel couldn't get the door
> handle back on, he was afraid he or Hardy might
> lock themselves in again (even though the door
> doesn't lock, never had before, and never has
> since). Laurel decided to tape the door's bolt
> open (apparently it never occurred to them to
> simply leave the door open). All he must have had
> was some kind of super tacky black duct tape
> because he covered the door with it. Once
> applied, parts of it never came off. There are
> still black marks around the door handle that
> won't come off. Eventually, I'm going to have to
> repaint the door.
>
> Laurel located the leak.
> Trying to be conscientious, he carefully moved
> the refrigerator back from the wall in the
> kitchen and took everything off the top. "These
> might come off when we jackhammer," he said.
>
> I
> appreciated his thoroughness. However, the
> refrigerator was fifteen feet away from the leak.
> Laurel failed to move my wife's treasured
> breakables that were placed around the master
> bathtub, around five feet from the leak. Of
> course, once Laurel started jackhammering, the
> breakables broke.
>
> Laurel finished the
> jackhammering and located the leak. He then
> declared he had to run to the supply house, but
> that Hardy was staying. A few minutes later Hardy
> came out and asked for a cup. I thought he was
> thirsty, so I have him one, filled with ice
> water. He looked at me like I was strange and
> disappeared back into the bedroom. I went back to
> my book in the living room.
>
> A few minutes
> after that, Hardy came walking out the front door
> carrying a bucket. He repeated the process a few
> minutes later and again, a few minutes after
> that.
>
> Curiosity got the better of me and I
> went to the closet. Hardy was on the floor over
> the slab leak using the cup I gave him to scoop
> water from the hole in the slab and fill the
> bucket. He was using one hand to scoop the water
> while he held the other, cut hand, in the air so
> that he didn't get it dirty (or dirtier). The
> water was gradually rising in the hole.
> "Don't you have a pump?" I asked.
>
> "Pump?"
> Hardy looked befuddled.
>
> I had to leave to keep
> from laughing.
>
> After a while (i.e., enough of
> Hardy's bucket trips that I lost count), Laurel
> returned. They eventually got the water under
> control, though the cup was ruined in the
> process.
>
> Laurel came out to tell me someone
> from the shop was coming by to pick up Hardy for
> another job, since he wasn't needed to finish up.
> I decided to run some errands and told Laurel I
> was going to Lowe's.
>
> "Could you pick up some
> rebar?" he asked, "I forgot it."
>
> About the
> time I returned with Laurel's rebar, the
> mini-pickup from the shop showed up for Hardy.
> The truck had been hit somewhere down the line.
> One rear quarter panel was pushed in so far that
> the top of the tire was exposed. The bumper was
> bent straight up over the tailgate, then forward,
> then sideways, then down, in a pretzel
> configuration that looked more like a preformed
> radiator hose than something done to heavy gauge
> steel. By now, this was the type of vehicle I'd
> come to expect from these guys. My wife and I
> call their installation truck, the Exxon Valdez,
> since it's as big as a tanker and leaves an oil
> slick everywhere it goes.
>
> Laurel eventually
> finished. He didn't clean up, though he did move
> the refrigerator back. He left to door handle
> hanging partially assembled, with back tape
> holding the bolt. He never offered to replace the
> cup or pay for the rebar (remember, this was
> warranty work). Fortunately, he did get the slab
> leak fixed.
>
> While this sounds like a funny
> plumber story, it's really a scary one. Later,
> when the builder was asking about the repair, he
> mentioned that the plumbing contractor had sent
> their best crew to our house. Now that's scary.
0 -
All righty, then...
Sure, Mr. Smith... ANYONE can make fun of a crack jackhammer crew, CAN'T THEY?! How about making fun of some highly paid professionals? Something is happening, and you don't know what it is.... Do you, Mr Smith? *wink, wink*
*** The following are actual questions asked by actual lawyers in actual court. Shamelessly stolen from Rolly and Wells, Salt Lake Tribune.***
Q: Mrs. Jones, do you believe you are emotionally stable?
A: I used to be.
Q: How many times have you committed suicide?
.
Q: Was that the same nose you broke as a child?
.
Q: What happened then?
A: He told me, he says, "I have to kill you because you can
identify me."
Q: Did he kill you?
.
Q: Was it you or your brother that was killed in the war?
.
Q: The youngest son, the 20-year-old, how old is he?
.
Q: Were you alone or by yourself?
.
Q: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his
sleep, in most cases he just passes quietly away and
doesn't know anything about it until the next morning?
.
Q: How long have you been French Canadian?
.
Q: Do you have any children, or anything of that kind?
.
Q: I show you exhibit 3 and ask if you recognize the person
in the picture?
A: That's me.
Q: Were you present when this picture was taken?
.
Q: Were you present in court this morning when you were sworn in?
.
Q: Now, Mrs. Johnson, how was your first marriage terminated?
A: By death.
Q: And by whose death was it terminated?
.
Q: Do you know how far pregnant you are?
A: I'll be three months on Nov. 8.
Q: Apparently then, the date of conception was Aug. 8?
A: Yes.
Q: What were you doing at that time?
.
Q: So you were gone until you returned?
.
Q: She had three children right?
A: Yes.
Q: How many of them were boys?
A: None.
Q: Were there any girls?
.
Q: You don't know what it was, and you don't know what it
looked like, but can you describe it?
.
Q: You say that the stairs went down to the basement?
A: Yes
Q: And these stairs, did they also go up?
.
A Texas attorney, realizing he was on the verge of
unleashing a stupid question, interrupted himself and said
"Your Honor, I'd like to strike the next question."
.
Q: Do you recall the time that you examined the body of
Mr. Edington?
A: It was in the evening. The autopsy started at about 8:30.
Q: And Mr. Edington was dead at the time, is that correct?
A: No, you stupid ****, he was sitting on the table
wondering why I was doing an autopsy0
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