4 Min Read

Man, if you’re going to jump ship and abandon me when I need you the most?

At least let me down gently…


“Well, we better be done by next Friday…that’s my last day on the job.”

“Wait, what? Like, last day on this project?”

“Oh, no, last day with this company. I’m moving on to bigger and better things in a few short days!”

Shit. This is not the conversation you want be having with the project manager of your slightly-more-complicated-than-usual home “restoration & remodeling”.

Yet here I was, almost 4 weeks into a home reno adventure with Daniel–our project manager–and this mother ----- couldn’t have bothered to mention this earlier? That party foul alone renders his right to anonymity null and void. I’m using your REAL name buddy here on out–no alias for you!

“Uh, congratulations?”

That was just about as a cordial of a response to this news that I could muster. I mean, good on him and all, but I know how this story ends. The Boss Lady reminded me of that fact the instant I told her, “Welp, Daniel’s last day is Friday…”


The Boss Lady and I? We like to be non-traditional. And not just with our home renovations. Nay, this trend started from our very first shared occasion of note: our wedding.

Despite being reliable members of our local church, we changed things up a bit and opted to have our matrimonial ceremony and reception in the butterfly garden of our local life science museum. But because of this unique setting, we needed a wedding coordinator who knew the place inside and out, so who better to ask than the director of said garden of butterflies?

We were quite ecstatic when she agreed. I couldn’t even help myself from shouting from the rooftops “She said ‘YES’!!!!!”

Okay, so I wasn’t that jubilant. But having her at the helm killed quite a few birds with one stone, so we were happy to have her on board.

Fast-forward 2 months to our wedding day. Guess what she casually mentions when she met up with the Boss Lady that morning? That’s right: “Oh, by the way, today’s my last day on the job. You’re wedding will be my last official act as the butterfly garden director before I head on down to Wilmington. How exciting is that?”

Cool, cool…

Later that evening, our festivities were going relatively smoothly. We somehow managed to awkwardly place 100ish guests along the path that wound through the garden.–and most of them even had a view of the happy couple!

We got to the part where the Boss Lady and I exchanged rings, wiped the sweat off each other’s brows (it was sooo ----- hot and humid in there), and shared our first kiss. You know, the usual. And then…it was time to escort the guests out of the stifling December heat and to the reception.

But did we get the orderly and peaceful transition that we had paid for? Hecks no.

Instead, complete disarray and chaos ensued. As the late(?) great Jeff Foxworthy would say, “It was pandelerium!”

Apparently our “wedding coordinator” decided to peace the ----- out early, because, hey, it was her last day. She had already gotten her $50 Target thank-you gift card–no reason for her stick around to see the job through, right?

Thanks for leaving us hanging like butterfly pupa, Tiffany. Dammit. I really wish I could remember your real name right now…you deserve all the public shaming I can conjure up!

Anyways, I found it all just a bit too ironic, considering that “commitment” was the whole ----- theme of the night and all…


Needless to say, we’re a bit leery of any ass-hat that is supposed to be working on something for us while they’re on the way out the door. So, yeah, Daniel was making us a bit nervous.

But, the good news is that history doesn’t always repeat itself.

The bad news? It usually does.

I should have known something was up when he would continually evade my simple question, “So when are going to have the mantel installed?”

He would reply with something vague like, “Yeah I looked at it.” Yeah, that tells me NOTHING.

Lo and behold, the Wednesday of his last week, he pops in at our house unexpectedly to do a quick final walk-through. And of course, I ask him about the mantel again. The mantel–the $300 piece of wood sitting in front of our fireplace, covered in paint cans, instead of being sanded, stained, finished, and suspended safely 5 feet off the ground.

“Oh, that…yeah we couldn’t figure out how to install it without possibly destroying the whole fireplace, and no one wanted to be liable for that. We’ll credit you back what we were going to charge you for the install.”

You. ‘Ve. Got. To. Be. ----- Kidding. Me.

I paid this ----- to literally “Leave the mantel hanging”, and instead he just decided to figuratively leave us hanging. A bit on the nose, don’t you think, Universe?

The point of the story is…well you get it, right? Never be anybody’s “last job”. They’re bound to screw you over one way or another.

Just don’t expect them to screw your mantel into your ----- fireplace like you hired them to do in the first place, though…yeah. maybe I’m bitter just a wee bit…


Special thanks to the Woolly Mammoth for heroically posing for the mantel picture…and going above and beyond getting me out of the home reno fiascos I managed to get myself into over the last 5 weeks.


Content created on: 7 May 2021 (Friday)

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