This, I've noticed, is not the land of 'Do it Yourself.' Instead, it is the land of 'Let Me Give You the Number of Handyman X So He Can Do It While You Mindlessly Surf the Internet'. It's nice but it's taken some getting used to.
Wanna hang curtains? Frau Z will bring her "design team" to your flat to "Hmmm. Hmmm." in every room, frantically measuring while simultaneously suggesting "fantastic" ideas, paint colors, and fabrics that you must have(Dahling). As the hours turn into days of planning, you begin to wonder whether said curtains will outrank your entire apartment in price.
Wanna paint your walls? Herr Y can paint and buy all of the supplies for the low-low price of your first born child (auf Euros, bitte.) That is, as long as you don't mind that he leaves for 4 hours mid-paint to do God knows what without prior notice and expects payment in cash when he leaves 3 days later.
Need light fixtures installed? Herr Y and his eldest son will come with their tool belts and ladders ready to do your bidding. Seven light fixtures and five hours later they leave just after smashing their large metal ladder into your newly installed crystal-ish chandelier. "Oh," J says, "I never liked that damn thing anyway."
Wanna hang some pictures? Herr Y and his brother Herr Z will come to your house sometime between 7:59 and 8:00 am to critique your taste in art, discuss the basics of "art hanging symmetry," debate with said brother about whether brother's very bad taste has no place in this discussion, pester you until you take his advice about placement, measure, and your hang the art. This service is free, of course, the art hanging will only take 15 hours and cost you a pound of flesh.
So today, we're getting pictures hung, light fixtures installed, and curtain rods attached by Herr Y, and Frau Z has come by to make the final measurements on "THE MOST EXQUISITE CURTAINS EVER CRAFTED" (Dahling). In spite of their funny habits, they are very nice people and do very good work, even if I'm never quite sure of the terms of the deal.
There's this language gap, you see, particularly with Herr X. He speaks fluent Polish and German and I speak ein bisschen Deutsch, un petit pur French, and enough English to get by. So, let's just say that we have a bit of a challenge communicating.
Each time he comes to the flat, he rings up by saying "I Am..." The first few times I paused waiting for the "here" but it never came. I'm always tempted to finish the sentence or to suggest that he announce himself and then I remember our own language predictament and stop myself. Those who live in glass houses have no business throwing stones.
A few weeks ago, for example, John walked into his office visibly sweating when he ran into the HR manager. She asked how he was doing and in his desperate attempt to demonstrate his new German skills he said, "Ich bin heiss." But he was confused when she blushed, paused, and then said tentatively, "Yes." When he came home, he told me the story. I laughed because while he had literally said the right thing, in German it translates to mean, "I am hot for you." Ha. So much for office decor.
Remembering these and other blunders, I'll continue to overlook Herr X's misfires in English as he ignores mine in German. He just asked, "Excuse. You commin me show where die lamp go in sleep room." I replied slowly in German, "Yes, I with you commint." (Head shaking frequently, "Ja, ja, ja.")
Wanna hang curtains? Frau Z will bring her "design team" to your flat to "Hmmm. Hmmm." in every room, frantically measuring while simultaneously suggesting "fantastic" ideas, paint colors, and fabrics that you must have(Dahling). As the hours turn into days of planning, you begin to wonder whether said curtains will outrank your entire apartment in price.
Wanna paint your walls? Herr Y can paint and buy all of the supplies for the low-low price of your first born child (auf Euros, bitte.) That is, as long as you don't mind that he leaves for 4 hours mid-paint to do God knows what without prior notice and expects payment in cash when he leaves 3 days later.
Need light fixtures installed? Herr Y and his eldest son will come with their tool belts and ladders ready to do your bidding. Seven light fixtures and five hours later they leave just after smashing their large metal ladder into your newly installed crystal-ish chandelier. "Oh," J says, "I never liked that damn thing anyway."
Wanna hang some pictures? Herr Y and his brother Herr Z will come to your house sometime between 7:59 and 8:00 am to critique your taste in art, discuss the basics of "art hanging symmetry," debate with said brother about whether brother's very bad taste has no place in this discussion, pester you until you take his advice about placement, measure, and your hang the art. This service is free, of course, the art hanging will only take 15 hours and cost you a pound of flesh.
So today, we're getting pictures hung, light fixtures installed, and curtain rods attached by Herr Y, and Frau Z has come by to make the final measurements on "THE MOST EXQUISITE CURTAINS EVER CRAFTED" (Dahling). In spite of their funny habits, they are very nice people and do very good work, even if I'm never quite sure of the terms of the deal.
There's this language gap, you see, particularly with Herr X. He speaks fluent Polish and German and I speak ein bisschen Deutsch, un petit pur French, and enough English to get by. So, let's just say that we have a bit of a challenge communicating.
Each time he comes to the flat, he rings up by saying "I Am..." The first few times I paused waiting for the "here" but it never came. I'm always tempted to finish the sentence or to suggest that he announce himself and then I remember our own language predictament and stop myself. Those who live in glass houses have no business throwing stones.
A few weeks ago, for example, John walked into his office visibly sweating when he ran into the HR manager. She asked how he was doing and in his desperate attempt to demonstrate his new German skills he said, "Ich bin heiss." But he was confused when she blushed, paused, and then said tentatively, "Yes." When he came home, he told me the story. I laughed because while he had literally said the right thing, in German it translates to mean, "I am hot for you." Ha. So much for office decor.
Remembering these and other blunders, I'll continue to overlook Herr X's misfires in English as he ignores mine in German. He just asked, "Excuse. You commin me show where die lamp go in sleep room." I replied slowly in German, "Yes, I with you commint." (Head shaking frequently, "Ja, ja, ja.")
1 comment:
HILARIOUS!!! i'm in the living room trying to stifle my laughter because everyone is sleeping--i'm giving you a high five when you wake up for this blog--still laughing!!
tia
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