MacGruber must have owned this house before me. EVERYTHING is completely booty-rigged. So many things even a diligent home inspection wont turn up, like false walls in the cabinet covering monstrous holes in the wall from said owner's GIY ethic. Ghetto it yourself, people.
So when the dishwasher starts smelling like a dead carp and I stick my head under under the sink with a wrench and a prayer, it takes exactly three turns, a gentle tug at the piece of linoleum stapled over a gaping hole in the wall, and a near death encounter with a tetanus-laden nail to open the floodgates. My pipes look like those treasures you see hauled up from the ocean floor after 10,000 years of salt water solitude. And not that I can't appreciate the natural patina of pipe rot, but this copper carries potable water to the fruits of my loins. Until you see me huffing rust flakes off a Mesopotamian bed pan, assume i like my pipes clean and functioning.
So I hop on yelp for an afterhours plumber, because toilets and sinks are unionized and part of the deal is they will only fail late at night or on weekends, with bonus points for when your alcoholic Grandpa Dick McKay has just dropped a load of Jimmy Dean in the pot.
Union Jack always has top reviews, but I called him once and got the impression that his high yelp standing has opened doors for him to a toilet repair utopia where.you can pick and choose which jobs you want, and feces smells like lime cilantro verbena body lotion. Besides, I still cant even articulate where i stand on whigs vs torries, how can i talk t-fittings and p-traps in comfort?
Hell, i dont even know what that last bit means even. needless to say, I called Johnny Rooter. Don't know the Rooter family personally, but they have long history in plumbing, I gather. Johnny himself must have had his head down a can, because i first spoke with a dispatcher, who promised a call from the next available technician. Technician, in this instance, is shorthand for 2nd person that calls you on the phone to tell you the same thing the first person told you. But no worries, two call backs later and I was in business.... a plumber was headed by way.
It breaks down like this.... a bit under 50 bones for the after hours service call, plus 150 an hour for labor, plus parts , plus applicable sales tax. The plumber that arrived was named Tom, as evidenced by his name patch. He took one look beneath my sink and declared the entire contraption a very poor attempt at a performance art piece, not only not at all functional but aesthetically foul and without either purpose or meaning. we hemmed and hawed. we pointed at unneeded putty and improperly sized bushings and guffawed. we stopped just short of chest bumping.
tom got to work in a hurry, with soldering irons and wrenches and clamps and files. 2 hours later, the water doesnt leak anymore. things look much tidier. tom is sweating profusely and still in good spirits for after midnight on a friday. and i am out just a bit under 360 bucks. i dont know how the price compares, but tom was a real peach. Mr. Rooter is lucky to have him.