I came to the Levison Towers this weekend – not to get work done, but to get dry. I live in an older house, and the plumbing poltergeist seems to plague me. We had the septic system cleaned about a year ago. We’ve had the pipes snaked on numerous occasions. Yet, for reasons that only the house knows (I would say only God knows, but rumor is he was a carpenter, not a plumber), the plumbing acts funny on occasion (funny “peculiar”, not funny “ha-ha”).
Washing a load of clothes produces water in the shower. Taking a shower produces water in the adjacent bathtub. The adults in the house are scared to flush a commode. I’ve asked my teenage sons not to flush at certain times, but this produces quizzical looks, as teenaged males don’t necessarily have a great grasp on the whole “flush” concept anyway.
One good thing about living in a major metropolitan area is that professional help is easy to find. I watched late-night television for 15 minutes and found my hero. His name was Mr. Pipes, and his ad seemed very trustworthy. He claimed years of experience, numerous awards, had been voted a “Super Plumber” and was complex clog certified. While he spoke on television, background footage showed broken, leaky pipes. He was earnest that he had yet to be beaten by a clog. As his commercial came to an end, I was moved by the smiling faces of his clients. The background music didn’t hurt, either.
I called and made an appointment. As I hung up the phone, I couldn’t help but focus on the fact that plumbers are not required to add disclaimers to their advertisements by the state Wrench Association. As the carnies would say, “Ya pays your money, ya takes your chances.”
Mr. Rusty “Just call me Rusty” Pipes showed up at my house almost on time. Actually, he was about an hour late, but I didn’t care. I sat inside and read old magazines while I waited. I looked out the blinds onto my driveway when his van pulled up. It was not quite as shiny as the TV commercial portrayed it. When he got out of his van, it was clear that Rusty wasn’t quite as shiny as portrayed, either. I was not put off. I was hiring a plumber, not a beauty contestant after all. I let him into the house.
Rusty came in and sat down at my kitchen table. He was wearing coveralls with his name, “Rusty” on a patch on his chest. “Rusty,” complete with quotation marks so I would know this was not his Christian name. I was instantly comforted to see a plumber dressed as I expected a plumber to dress. I understood why my clients seem more relaxed when I am wearing a suit than when they show up on casual days.
I explained my woes, and he listened with appreciative nods and knowing smiles.” I’ve handled lots of situations like this,” he reassured me. “Sounds like a jammed Fitzer valve. The ball bearings in those things are persnickety little buggers. It’s all bearings these days.” He gave one of those chuckles that I have heard lawyers give clients – grandfatherly, familiar, calming. I wasn’t completely convinced that he knew what he was talking about, and I certainly didn’t. Still, I was relieved to have a professional on my side.
“I’ll need you to fill out some forms first,” he told me. “And we need to talk about payment. I’m not one of those leak chasers who waits to bill you until they see the extent of your problem. I will tell you my hourly rate right up front. It’s $200 per hour.”
“How many hours will it take?” I asked.
“Hard to know for sure really. We don’t really know how the clog is going to behave until we get at it. Plumbing is an art and not a science after all.”
I filled out the forms which seemed extensive. I wanted him to fix a clogged pipe. I couldn’t see a reason for confidentiality clauses, publicity releases or agreements to arbitrate any disputes.
“What could we possibly dispute?” I asked him. “Either you will fix my problem or you won’t.”
“Oh, that. Well, we wouldn’t have a form if we hadn’t had a problem.” He again smiled a reassuring smile. “Once we’ve cleared your clogged pipe, I can’t guarantee that it won’t clog again. It would be very costly to have a jury determine whether we did our job correctly in case there is an argument. McDonald's coffee and all of that. You must agree to binding arbitration before we will unbind your pipes. It’s a legal thing. You know how lawyers can be.”
I do indeed know how difficult some lawyers can be. I also knew how it felt to be desperate with a problem I couldn’t solve, hiring a professional I didn’t know who made vague promises – both about his services and their cost. Much like my clients must feel. I signed the papers, and Mr. Pipes took them from me, dropped them in his bag and prepared to leave.
“Wait!” I blurted out. “What about the plumbing repair?”
“Oh, this was just the preliminary conference,” Mr. Pipes assured me.
Mr. Pipes promised to send out his associate first thing in the morning to get started. I received a confirming call from his paraplumber, Flo, later that afternoon.
©2012 under analysis llc. under analysis is a nationally syndicated column of the Levison Group. Spencer Farris is the founding partner of The S.E. Farris Law Firm in St Louis, Missouri. The choice of a plumber is an important one, and should not be based on advertisements alone. Comments or criticisms about this column may be sent c/o this newspaper or directly to the Levison Group via email at comments@levisongroup.com.