clients

[blueadzuki]

It's just a little archaic. In older literature (or fantasy) using "in his/her/my/your cups" to mean "drunk" is pretty common. and "tad" just means "a little". Seems perfectly clear to me.

[steev]

I visit a barber-shop weekly (strictly a social venue for me; haven't cut my hair in 40+ years) where one of the regulars mentioned having been a "gandy-dancer" in his youth; first time I'd heard that term since well before my last haircut.

"A little archaic": that would be me, just a tad behind modernity.

BTW, let us not fail to note that "tad" is a Southernism (USA) in its regionalistic common usage; I don't much sympathize, but I am informed that people tend to be offended when people, not of their apparent group, presume to use "their" language.

I would note that I've been in San Diego, California, and found some people to be really touchy about language; being a person of rather free-form culture, I tend not to understand the pissy possessivity of people who try to limit access to "their" language; WTF do they think has been going on for millennia, long before "their" language was "official"?

It's kind of a landrace thing; IMHO.

[blueadzuki]

Well, I think they build train tracks mechanically by now, so I doubt there is much call for gandy-dancing anymore. Maybe in some of the less developed countries. It's probably like how the job of town lamplighter probably took a dive when towns went electric (or even when they went gas, I don't know if those lamps needed someone to physically light them).

[steev]

Pretty sure they did, not having perpetually-running pilot lights, as did 50's kitchen stoves (the heaters, when the furnace was turned down).

I suppose now, IF there were gas-lights, there would be computer-controlled (based on light-sensors), piezo-electric igniters. There goes another family-supporting job replaced by automation.

Doubtless Trump is going to bring back the lamp-lighter jobs. I'm not holding my breath.

Note my previous post.

[steev]

Returning to bitching about clients: I and a house-mate (another geezer younger, bigger, and less inured to manual labor than I) were working up a place for marketing; the backyard was mostly openwork concrete thingies laid flat with the holes filled with gravel and weeds; our job was: to cut a load of branches off the neighbor's huge, unproductive avocado so as to allow more light and haul off the slash; weed the paving; haul and spread decomposed granite pathway fines to fill the paving (two half-yard loads); and haul and spread a yard of mulch in the surrounding plantings; fine; we did the tree, weeded, conferred with the property-owner about the aesthetics of the fines, brought, unloaded, and started spreading the fines.

So as I was on my way for the second load of fines, I got a call that the owner was "unsure" about that!!! Bugger me running with a corncob! Brought the mulch, instead. I've no idea what this person thinks we're to do with those fines; vacuum them out?; dispose of them where? replace them with what?; finish with the second load?

I scheduled ONE day for this job; somebody doesn't really like things, so I'm supposed to come back to re-arrange the furniture?

Due to the "change of mind", we cut the day short and left, totally knackered; my housemate was so pitiful, I gave him some hydrocodone from what I'd not used after my hernia surgery.

I "eagerly" await further developments in this shitterree.

[steev]

So another shoe has dropped; they wanted the DG fines to go away, so the realtor and I spent ~4 hours blowing and vacuuming out the DG fines; he had to haul that off (my landlady would NOT let me store them; yes, I am a pack-rat and I've maxed out my allowance). Word is that they want the pavers filled with "something dark" for dramatic effect, and planted with baby-tears, so they can eventually walk around barefoot; not gonna work without proper irrigation; that's why the previous baby-tears only survived in deep shade, but what do I know, having only been doing this 38+ years? No word yet whether that's a "go". The realtor is a good guy, so I'll do what I can to get us both through this without mortal wounds, but the lure of money, or even of being paid for what one has done and spent for materials, recedes as one realizes one's days are limited.

They're nice young people, obviously quite affluent and "entitled" (a BMW 'cycle for him and a Moto-Gucci for her), but damn! What wankers! I'm getting too old for this shit; my memory-span isn't enough for me to remember when I could roll with such BS without rancor. Seriously, I'm thinking of retiring if I can get a prescription for Fuckitall.

[richardw]

In my line of work if people piss around and the job ends up taking way longer, who cares, i just smile because i charge by the hour.

[steev]

Me, too, but there are only so many work-hours to the week, and I hate to piss any away undoing what I've done.

[steev]

The contractor got off charging only a few hours of my work; the rest, hours and material, went on the clients; that's good; it was their own damned fault.