The black olive tree next to the driveway is magnificent. It is as wide as it is tall with a truly impressive canopy of tiny little leaves each of which, when combined with rainwater, leaves a huge orange stain on our roof and driveway.
When I came home from work recently I noticed how stained our white tile roof was. “The roof really needs to be painted,” I told my partner.
He nodded. “And the driveway needs to be pressure cleaned,” he pointed out.
“No point in doing either until we have the black olive tree trimmed, “ I said.
When it comes to home improvements I always insist on three written estimates; I’ve been burned by too many South Florida contractors whose verbal proposals and actual performance are not even remotely similar.
The three proposals to paint the roof were almost identical, so I chose the one in the middle. This did not make the lowest-price contractor happy.
“Why didn’t you choose me?” he asked, none too graciously. “We’re the best. And there’s no way we could have been underbid.”
“You weren’t,” I said. “But your estimate did not include the paint.”
“Of course it did,” he said.
“Um – no it didn’t,” I told him. “I’m looking at your estimate now.” There was a long silence, as of a contractor looking over his notes.
“Oh,” he said. “That line was for a previous job. I forgot to delete it.” I was silent. “But anyone would have known that paint was included in the price.”
“Dude,” I said, “it says ‘Paint not included.’” I was all set to say more but he had already hung up.
We gave the driveway job to the guy who was slightly more expensive than the other two because my neighbor gave a glowing testimonial as to the quality of his work, the punctuality of his crew and the thoroughness of his clean-up.
He showed up on time on the designated day and, as agreed, came to the door to get an initial check for 50% of the price.
When I handed him the check he looked at it, cleared his throat and said, “It’s short.” He handed me the check back.
I was honestly confused. “I thought you wanted 50% down,” I said.
He cleared his throat again. “I do,” he said, not making eye contact. “But looking around, this job is way bigger than I thought it was. Your driveway is really stained.”
“I know it’s stained,” I said. “That’s why you’re here to pressure clean it.”
“Well, I have to charge you more,” he said, examining a grimy fingernail.
“I’m gonna pass,” I said levelly, closing the door. “Thanks for your time!”
“Wait, wait!” He said as I softly closed the door. “I’ll honor the price if you pay cash. We’re the best!” he shouted through the closed door.
After all this drama, the tree trimming project seemed to go smoothly. I gave the contract to the lowest-priced estimate and we agreed on a day and date. But a full week before he was set to arrive I heard the unmistakable roar of a chainsaw in the driveway.
Wondering, I rushed out and found the higher-priced contractor with a cherry picker, a shredder and a full crew of guys in our driveway.
“What are you doing?” I yelled over the chain saw.
He turned the chainsaw off. “We’re trimming your trees,” he said defensively.
“I told you we were using another company!” I said. “I also sent you a text message.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t think you meant it,” he said. “We’re the best.”