One should avoid calling a house repairer on a Friday afternoon.

3 min read.

I have a few residential rental properties. At times, after a tenant leaves, one tends to renovate the property. Every now and then, a tenant apprises you of a problem which needs to be sorted out sooner than later. The two interesting incidents, hereinbelow narrated, happened recently.

A property had just been vacated by the previous tenant and before advertising I decided to have a redo.

A friend gave me the number of a reliable decorator. I contacted him. He came, looked at the work to be done and gave me a quote, which I accepted. He said he would start work next Thursday morning and would finish it by Wednesday the following week. His name was Richie, a bald-pated person at the cusp of sixty and sturdy as a walrus.

On Friday at about 1.30 pm, I visited the property just to see the progress.

Richie and his mate Anthony were packing and it looked that they had finished the work for the day.

I enquired: “Have you finished for the day Richie?”

“Yes, doctor”, he cheerly replied.

“Is it not too early?”, I queried further.

“No doctor. Don’t you know today is a Friday?” He gave me gap-toothed smile.

“Yes, I know”, I confirmed to him.

But I was not sure what had it to do with finishing the work by 1.30 pm. I knew that Friday prayers are held in the town’s two mosques at 2.15 pm.

He was born and bred in the town. I suspected that he could not be a Muslim, who would be attending Friday prayers at a mosque. Other possibility could be that his wife was a Muslim and he converted. Or he could be a Jew. But for them Sabbath is observed every week beginning on Friday and ending after dark on Saturday. But that begins Friday evening, and it was too early for that.

I was bemused and could not reach a definite conclusion.

I did not want to probe him about his religion. It was his personal matter.

 I ruminated about the riddle I faced. Thinking that the issue should be approached discreetly, I suggested:

“Don’t you think you’re getting late?”.

He confirmed:

“I would go home, wash and change the clothes”.

 I doubted if he would reach the mosque by 2.15 pm.

I had a real rush of relief when he dispelled all my doubts decisively and gushed:

“Thereafter I’ll go to the pub.”

I received a message from a tenant telling me that there was a little leak into the kitchen from the upstairs bath. I looked at the local directory, copied a number and rang up a repairer. According to the advertisement, he had twenty-five years’ experience and appeared to be a competent person to do the job. In the ad I could read his name as Micky.  From his voice he sounded to be in his fifty-something. 

It was about 12 noon when I called him. He answered my call honorifically and appeared to be enthused for getting work soon after the one he was doing. He informed me that he would be happy to look at the job. He gave me his schedule of the rest of the day.

According to him, he would finish the work he was doing by 5.30 pm. Then he would go home, have tea and some rest. He should reach the property without fail at about 7 pm.

After he told me the area of the town where he lived, I reckoned he could reach the house in fifteen minutes i.e., almost the same time that I would take from my house. He advised me to text the address of the property, which I did.

Just to be sure at 6.45 pm I called him on his phone. I reiterated the conversation which took place between us:

I said: “Is it Micky?”.

“Yes, it is. Who are you?”, he mumbled.

I replied:

 “It’s Dr. Chaudhry. Do you remember me I spoke to you today at noontime to repair my rental property. I texted you the address as well.”

He balked at the idea of repairing a property that evening, to which he had earlier made a pellucid commitment. He answered dismissively:

“No, you must’ve got a wrong number. My doctor’s name is different.  I don’t think he would call me at this time. I’m fine.

I was puzzled. I had spoken to the man earlier and he seemed an affable and agreeable workman. But after a few hours he was spurning the job outrightly.

I clarified: “No, I’m not that doctor. I’m the landlord of the property you promised to visit this evening.”

The penny dropped:

“No, I didn’t. You must be mistaken. Don’t you know it is a Friday evening? I’m at the pub near our house.”

Before long, I realised as he was slurring his words, he was sozzled surely. I hanged up the phone.