Handyman Pays for Himself…and Doesn’t Even Charge!!

Zowie! Yesterday Larry Goldstein of Preferred Handyman Services, who came highly recommended on Angie’s List, dropped by to peruse the growing list of honey-do’s that need some skilled attention. He looks at the half-a-page of chores and projects, advises me on where to take the ones he doesn’t want to do (apparently painting the outside of houses in 110-degree heat is not among his preferred services), writes down what’s needed for the projects he will do, and says he’ll e-mail me with an estimate.

While he’s inspecting, I mention that the patio table jiggles so violently it threatens to collapse. It has these little cap-shaped bolt things that appear to hold it together, but I can’t tighten them with my fingers and if there’s a tool for them, I have NO idea what it might be.

He explains that the cap-shaped bolt things ARE caps, and flips off a couple to illustrate. Underneath is a round bolt thing that has to be turned with an Allen wrench. He tightens a couple of them and then proceeds on his inspection tour.

I think…hmmm….  I have a whole package of Allen wrenches out there in the garage somewhere. Bookmark that thought.

Meanwhile, on his way out the door he repairs the laundry faucet and shows me how to turn off the water to that sink in the absence (yes!) (no…don’t ask) of a shut-off valve.

As he’s headed for his truck I say, “Let me pay you for your trip over here.” He says, “Oh, no. That’s not a problem.” I think oooookkkaaayyyy… I was prepared to shell out $60 plus parts just to have him schlep over here and do the most urgent repair — which was that faucet.

Well, I have yet to hear back from him. I hope he resurfaces, because I think he may be God.

This morning, of course, the table still jiggled under my breakfast plate, because once he realized I knew what an Allen wrench is and that I had a lifetime supply of the things, he also realized this was a job I could do. So I grabbed a slot screwdriver, flipped off the li’l caps, found the right size Allen wrench, and voilà!

It was amazingly easy.  And now the table is rock-solid.

Remember the time Ruby ate the lamp cord? I took it over to Hinckley’s, the nearest lamp repair joint I know. They charged $50 to rewire the damn lamp. Within two weeks after I put it back on the table, she chewed the cord off again! That was after I’d sprayed it liberally with Bitter Apple. Well, I could not afford another fifty bucks for another eight feet of puppy fodder, so replaced my favorite living-room lamp with an old clunker from a back room and taped the cord down with clear cellophane shipping tape.

So I asked Larry if he would rewire the lamp while he was puttering with some of the other chores. He says, “Well, they’ll do it for you at French’s.”

I say, “Seriously? I wondered if they would but was afraid to ask. Thought they might be insulted, since…that’s not what they do.” French’s is probably the premier electric supply house in the city — it caters largely to the trade.

“Sure,” he says. “Mike will do it, and if he won’t, John* will.” So he gets on the phone and calls these guys up and asks if they’ll rewire a lamp. Mike says sure, he’ll do it.

How much?

“Ten bucks.”

Holy mackerel.

“Remember to remind them that I sent you.” He hands me a business card to be sure I won’t forget his name.

So the guy saved me the cost of a plumber’s trip, the cost of a new faucet, and $40 on the lamp rewire…and he charged me nothing!

How incredible IS that?
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*Probably not their real names. There’s a reason he figured he’d better give me a bidness card…