Dear Tile Installers,
What the fucking hell is wrong with you people? I can’t quite comprehend what you’ve been doing for the past three weeks – eating peanuts, taking naps, discarding trash in the yard and pissing in discarded soda bottles. You’ve been doing many things, but it certainly hasn’t been installing tile.
It wasn’t that long ago that I was wide-eyed and eager for the brilliant array of sparkly ceramic and slate displayed through out my soon-to-be new bathrooms. The home that was supposed to close on July 27th, but now won’t because what was supposed to be a one-week job has now turned into three – and counting.
Do you not understand that you are paid by the piece and not by the hour? What is so hard to understand about that? You’ve delayed us more than this deluge of rain and I’m not quite sure how that is physically possible. A blind, one-armed 70-year old with severe arthritis has more speed than you.
I’ve tiled before. I know tile. I am one with the tile. But I have never shit in a toilet that was not connected to plumbing. Do you do this in your own home? Do you need someone to point out to you that you are filthy pigs – YOU know they are not connected to any water source that could wash this gift of crap down to the sewer lines (that also are not CONNECTED to the house yet)! So, tell me, to what do I owe this offering of odorous offal, these bounteous bestowal of bowel movements in the bowls, might I be so bold as to call them philanthropic pilings of poo in the pisser?
I suppose I should be grateful they aren’t dropping trou in the pool!