Gypped?

The guy with the truck tried to gyp me.

How do you spell gyp?

Anyway, when hubby talked to him about what rubbish there was to pick up on our driveway he was quoted about 250 smakeroos. He said it goes by weight at the depo where he dumps the stuff, they charge by the tonne, and we knew that already.

Actually, I knew there was a charge by weight, I didn't know what the charge was. Would have been nice to know this info prior to the guy showing up here. Hubby knew the amount...

We had a lot of crap piling on the driveway. Basement floor, drywall, old wood, and a bunch of cement blocks from the ripped out porch. Seems he told my hubby that he can take it all.

Good news was the guy was available to come that same day, between 3 and 4 pm.
Bad news was that hubby was at his job at an afternoon shift, leaving me to deal with it.

So I had to run around and get some cash into the house.
Stay awake myself during nap-time so I can direct and supervise the clean-up. (Didn't end up being a problem since some people who shall remain nameless didn't feel like napping that day.)

Ok, so around 3:30 pm Ben and I go outside to hang around, watching and talking with our mason, and waited for the truck.

Ben's excited. He has his loader and shovel handy and wants to help.

Suddenly, my neighbour appears on the driveway. Her hubby is stuck in traffic, her preschooler's stuck in school, her toddler's napping, could she borrow the car....

Yes. She took the car, I took my child, stayed in her house sitting with her toddler who was still napping, and waited for the truck.

She comes back 20 minutes later, all is well, but there is still no truck on my driveway.

By 5:30 pm I have to do two things: stick the overtired toddler in the bath and get supper prepared for the eventual return of hubby from new job.

Of course the minute the kid is in the bath, we hear the beep beep beep of the pickup truck backing into our driveway.

Out of the tub comes the child, back on go the dirty clothes along with some pull-ups, and we go meet the little Caribbean man.

The truck looks suspiciously small.

The pile he has to take looks suspiciously big.

First thing he says is "I don't take the concrete, you have to get a bin".

I say "fine". Just take the wood. At this point, any reduction of rubbish is a relief to me. Let hubby hash out the details later.

We do some small talk while Ben hovers nearby with his loader and shovel, and eventually I tell the guy I gotta get inside to start cooking.

I can see him and the truck from the kitchen window.

I stick the overtired child back in the bath, throw some organic chicken, potatos and tomatos in a casserole dish, work on some dishes, and bring the guy out there a glass of water. It was a stifling day out there.

He ask me "do you have cash in the house".

I say "yes. How much do you think this will cost?"

He tells me - are you sitting down? - $450.

I must have hidden my dismay but I'll tell you, I was not impressed. What is he, Jamacian or something? Back in my flight attendant days, the Jamacian's were the ones that tried everything to get what they wanted, including haggling over prices that are quite obviously completely insane. $450 for a pile of wood? We got a construction bin filled with heavier items for less than that before....

Geez.

Luckily, hubby calls from the college. Not that I had a) a phone number to contact him. Or b) where it's deserted and the phones weren't manned by anyone anyway. And c) he misplaced his cell phone. Again. Fine time for him to be unreachable what with me 8+ months pregnant.

More grief.

Anyway, he called and I answered. I tell him the guy outside wants $450 and I am inclined to give him what he quoted originally ($250) and deal with whatever consequence that may come up.

We agree to give him $350 cash, since he was labouring himself that huge pile in that heatwave.

Hubby refuses to talk to the guy on the phone. I'm not impressed.

So I go back out and tell the guy "my husband left me $350 cash, can you manage with that?" expecting him to take the $ and leave part of the pile.

I excused myself to go check on the wet kid and promise to come back out in a few minutes.

Shortly after, I noticed that he's climbing all over his truck, tying all the loose boards up.

I go back out and tell him in my nicest voice "you are a miracle worker, I didn't think you'd be able to fit all of it on your truck"!

He smiles, and hands me 50 bucks back.

He says "the wood won't weigh that much".

Now...what was that? Was he feeling guilty? Was he afraid that we would complain to Tony, the electrician, who recommended this guy to us?

Or did he just feel like I saw through him and decided that hey, I'm a nice lady with a huge belly and a cute toddler, I shouldn't try to gyp them?

Either way, we parted professionally.

Frankly, I still think he made a good profit on the $300 he got from us, but at least now the weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

Took a meltdown in front of hubby and a long argument to get him to arrange it to begin with and then I still didn't have all the info I needed to make an educated decision about the situation...which is why I would prefer he handle it alltogether...

Whatever. It's done now.

The saga continues.