Steamed

Dear Stanley Steamer,

I arranged to have my carpets shampooed on Saturday afternoon. I booked the appointment online, and I made sure to put my proper apartment number on there so you would know where to go. You assigned me a 4 hour window during which you would arrive, which was fine because I’ve had worse waits. You arrived fairly early in the window, but your guys were without any equipment. I was puzzled to say the least, but I became very irritated when your guys explained that they would need a portable unit, which they did not have, because they couldn’t use the truck. No shit. You don’t fucking say. I don’t live on the ground floor. In fact, there is no number 1 anywhere in my apartment number, so what the fuck made you think that you’d be able to connect to the truck and run the necessary shit into my apartment to do the job, you fucking idiots? You didn’t realize that, oh… I don’t know… BEFORE YOU LEFT TO DO THE JOB?!? So now I have an appointment to get it done on Monday. Fuck you.

Oh, by the way… When I told you it was water on your boot from the dog’s bowl, dribbled from his mouth, the truth of the matter is he peed on your foot and I played it off. That’s what you get for being a bunch of unprepared dicks. Don’t think for one minute I’m not calling tomorrow morning to demand a discount for a) being made to wait, and b) your stupidity.

Signed,

Steamed

2 Responses

  1. Why didn’t you just get Stryker to uppercut them in the jaw?

    Striker didn’t recognize them. Maybe if I had given them pictures of your face and had them hold them up to their faces he would’ve done it.

  2. …and in this era of foreclosures and businesses going under left and right this is what you get when you contract for “service.” I’m not even talking skill. It wouldn’t surprise me if this D-U-M duo didn’t come back and leave your carpeting in worse condition than before they started.

    They did a good job. Of course the puppy will be chomping at the bit to undo it.

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