Illustration by Denis

 

I AM not faultless, nor am I a frequent fault finder. But one Friday in February I was faced with a faulty faucet. The evening before, I had called my insurance company: “There’s a leak where the cold water faucet meets the wall, and I’m not sure if the water pipe is broken or if the faucet is faulty.” Once ascertaining that it was no emergency, the insurance company said they would send someone on Sunday morning between eight and ten.

Itzik the plumber arrives on Sunday morning. My husband is home. Itzik says the problem is not the pipe but the faucet, and adds, “it’s nothing, I will fix it ‘b’chik’ (in a jiffy).”  My husband retires to his computer. Four hours later Itzik says the faucet above the dairy sink is fixed and that we must pay him 400 shekels. “What?” exclaims my husband. “That’s your participation in the bill, the insurance pays the rest,” he retorts. “Buying and installing a new faucet doesn’t cost that much,” says my husband, “I saved you the cost of a new faucet,” he replies. My husband writes out a check.

The faucet continues leaking. Itzik has replaced the two circles joining the faucet to the wall with two mismatched items which leave gaping holes. Upon returning home, I am not happy with what I see and phone the insurance company. Itzik is recalled and attempts to insert some plastic filler into the holes. “What happened to the chrome circles that were there?” I ask him. He shows me the mangled victims, and says, “You can’t replace them; they don’t make these kinds anymore.” With a huge wrench he forcibly turns the bolts to prevent further leakage. “If it continues to drip you need another faucet,” he says glibly, and leaves.

While teaching students in my home two hours later, I hear a loud boom and the sudden gushing of water. I rush to the kitchen and see water spraying everywhere from a cracked, overly wrought bolt adjoining the hot water faucet. I dash out to close the water main, run back to call the insurance company and sit down to continue teaching my students as calmly as I can.

Itzik returns, removes the faucet, plugs up the two exposed pipes protruding from the wall, and says I need a new faucet. “It’s my fault.” He says contritely, “I should have replaced the faucet immediately instead of trying to save you money. I will buy you another and pay half the cost.” He calls his supplier who tells him a simple kitchen wall faucet costs 420 shekels. Itzik takes the troublesome faucet with him so that he can “match the new one with the identical one above the meat sink.” He promises to return on Tuesday at 17:30 to install it. That same evening however, I price several faucets at the local plumbing supply store. I buy a simple chrome kitchen wall faucet for 264 shekels, and call Itzik happily to tell him I “saved us both some money.”

Itzik does not show up on Tuesday. I call the insurance company and a spokesman gives me Itzik’s cell phone number to call him directly. Itzik assures me he’ll come first thing on Wednesday morning. My call at 09:00 elicits a promise that he’ll be there at 13:00. At 14:00 he assures me he will arrive at 17:00. At 18:00 he promises he will come at 20:00 and at 21:00 he no longer answers my calls.

Thursday morning he says his car needs fixing and that he doesn’t feel well, but promises that he’s coming at 14:00. “I’m no longer going to call you, Itzik” I reply. “My next call is directly to the insurance company.” He doesn’t answer me, but he also doesn’t show up. It’s been a week since my faucet began to leak, and I’ve been without water in my dairy sink for five days.

The insurance company sends a very competent plumber on Friday who installs the new faucet, and three days later a personable supervisor of the plumbing company visits me to review my case. He is appalled at the story and apologizes for the incompetence of the first worker. “It upset my entire week,” I say. “I had to reschedule students and cancel appointments and visits with my children and grandchildren. It affected my mood. “But you know,” I add pointedly, “this story, which I intend to publish can have a happy ending….”  “It will.’ he assures me. “We will be sending you a check for 664 shekels, covering your check and the new faucet.” The check did indeed arrive a month later.

My harried week cannot be rectified, but as my father taught me, “Mistakes can be thought of as experiences, and no man, no matter how incompetent or untrustworthy, is utterly useless; he can always be used as a bad example.”

print Email article to a friend
Rate this article 
 

Post a Comment




Comments

Sholom Weinfeld
2018-03-11
Dear Judy Shapiro, believe it or not I was cleaning for Pesach today while listening to Gladys Gewirtz's and Roz Grossman's "Passover Seder" recording. I am 59 and sang along as I cleaned; just as I did when I was nine years old. A search on the internet for information on these two wonderful women brought me to your Itzik the plumber story; which I enjoyed [I am an insurance agent and writer]. I also read your bio on your Uncle Shimon and your mother and found it quite inspiring. Its interesting to note my 28 year old daughter Malka made aliyah in December. I want to thank you [and Gladys and Roz] for songs that I have sung and enjoyed pretty much my entire life. To clean without this album is akin to asking me to clean with rags. Wishing you a kosher and freilich Pesach, Sholom Weinfeld [Miami, FL].

Related Articles

 

About the author

Judy Shapiro

Judy Shapiro was born in New York City and raised in Borough Park, Brooklyn. Very active in the Zionist youth group Mizrachi Hatzair, known today as the youth section of Amit Women, she came on Aliy...
More...

Script Execution Time: 0.045 seconds-->