If you've ever built a rock wall, you know they're not easy to make and are even more difficult to repair. At the time, when I pointed it out to him, he said "Shouldn't be too hard to fix."
Good, I thought, I look forward to having you fix it.
It was nice of him to move the rocks back toward the wall before he left. Hardly what I would call "fixing it", though.Because of mechanical difficulties, Mike had to abandon his truck in my neighbour's driveway that night. It was still there in the morning, but when I came back from running some errands downtown, it was gone. My neighbour and I assessed the damage to our respective yards.
My neighbour's oil tank had been propped up by several logs because it had been hit by the truck and knocked off its post. Fortunately there were no leaks and she told me that Mike had hired Hurlburt Enterprises to repair it.
I hadn't heard from him though, so I got his number from her. I left three messages on his answering machine over a period of several days but never received a call back. I didn't say that I was calling about the garden wall, just that I was "phoning about, ah, wood delivery." Because I was, after all, "phoning about a wood delivery".
Yesterday, my neighbour gave me Mike's home number. I called the home number and got the answering machine there, too. Of course, I left another message.
This morning, trying once again, I finally got through and asked him what he was going to do about fixing my garden wall.
He said (word for word because I was typing out our conversation), "C'mon buddy, there's two inches of snow on the ground and my truck's broken down - don't do this," and then he hung up on me.
Yup, he hung up on me. Now, there's a grown-up way to deal with a problem if I ever saw one.
I called back, but he had turned off answering machine.
What really ticked me off was that at some point he could have apologised. Not once has he ever shown any indication that he was or is sorrowful for his mistake.
Well, he really made a mistake now because I am mad - and you really don't want to get me mad. I have a habit of, um, not letting these things off lightly.
You know why bulldogs look the way they do? They were bred that way. They were bred to be fighting dogs - their short little faces allow them to breathe and hang on when they're biting something - and when they're biting something, they don't let go. It doesn't matter what you do to a bulldog - hit it, kick it, bite it - it won't let go until it knows it has won the fight.
Mike of Mike's Firewood has just picked a fight with me. Well, I am a bulldog and I'm about to bite.
I phoned and left a message on his home number and said, in short, "You've got two choices: deal with this honourably or I'll see you in court." I'm guessing he's not capable of the first option, so it looks like we're going to court.
If he doesn't call back to deal with this by Monday, I've got the registration documents for Small Claims Court all ready to go.
And all I can say right now is, "Bring it on, buddy. Bring it on."