good job.

I’m just going to start right in on my tirade today. I am flabbergasted by what people will accept as good work. Plain and simple, just blown away by what people will turn in as finished and what those accepting said work will put up with.

I think it started in high school, when I copped out my senior year and took “college prep” English instead of AP English. I thought for sure that we, in AP classes, weren’t doing so much more than everyone else, so it probably wouldn’t be a big deal to skip out on it, since I was pretty good with the word anyway. O how wrong I was. How insanely wrong. If the output of my fellow students was worthy of college in any aspect, I shudder to think – or maybe, now fully understand – what is wrong with our society.

Our sweet teacher, Mrs. Kennedy would choose a few papers to read aloud in front of the class. These were seemingly meant to be anonymous, but when she was finished, she would go to the front of the author’s row and set the paper lovingly down on the first desk, to be passed back. After a while, we all started noticing the pattern of crappy paper followed by my paper, as if she meant to subtly let the class know that their work was sub-par. However I think they already knew this and just didn’t care. It was good enough to turn in and receive a passing grade. Her expectations were clearly quite low at the time, so I felt more embarrassment than elation at having my work held up as the gold standard. They didn’t care and now they resented me, too.

And therein lies the problem.

I have seen this theme repeated a zillion times over the last 15 years. Apparently the rest of the world did not grow up in a house even remotely resembling mine. A house where, if any of the clothes were not folded properly, the whole basket was dumped out to be redone. Where the tiles on the kitchen counter were regularly scrubbed (by the 4 junior members) with bleach and a toothbrush, or where hospital corners were required when making the bed, every time. I do not exaggerate. The phrase "do it right the first time and you don't have to do it again," was a popular favorite among the parents in my family.

The blessing (I have obviously come to terms with this) in all of that was that we 4 small victims grew to develop a scrutinizing and perfectionist’s eye to each task we took on and subsequently do very well in any situation requiring detailed and comprehensive completion. Knowing that the rest of the world operates like my aforementioned classmates, this is surely annoying and unnerving to our fellow project members and coworkers. But such is life.

So what we are leading up to is this: I moved into a new apartment a couple of weeks ago; one that was being “completely refurbished”. I saw the halfway point - when the drywall was up and taped but not painted and the floor was dusty and bare - loved the space and signed the lease. Because who doesn’t want a completely refurbished apartment in the greater New York area? It’s like striking gold, if it’s also affordable, which my place is. Finally, after an alarming series of move-in mishaps, which I’ll have to detail at a later time, due to their volume, I was finally able to inhabit my apartment on the 5th of the month. And that’s when I started to notice.

The contractor seemingly wants to be paid for his work, yet very little of what he has done is deserving of remittance. As I write this on the 23rd day of the month, the apartment – which he promised the landlord would be finished on the first – is still not complete. There are holes in the floor, through which critters will inevitably crawl, and the floor received no sanding and only one coat of varnish. It's like walking on tiny rocks and someone in the basement potentially has several nifty periscope locations. There are leaking showers, racks that are not hung, doors unpainted and left with their original, drab, vinyl coloring, dribbles of paint on the floor, the windows, the remaining doors and the faux brick fireplace (which is missing a few faux bricks as well).

The funny thing to me is that the apartment is still worth what I’m paying for it and I have no complaints whatsoever where my landlord is concerned. I just hope she doesn’t plan to pay this gentleman for such shoddy work. He looked at me with scorn and disapproval when I asked him about several of the remaining items to be completed. Clearly, he did not want to be called out on his lackluster delivery. But would he stand for this in his own house? Would a 3/4 finished mantle be all right in his bedroom? I think not. So why is he getting away with it? Why is it all right for him to trot off to his next sucker’s project, leaving me so miffed that I will most likely spend my own money to correct his inferior workmanship.

Because he must have sensed that in addition to my disgust with his lack of finishing and detailing ability, I’m also anal enough that I can’t just let it be. No, no. Even though most parts of the house are perfectly functional for a renter like myself, I will be the one with the spackle and the sander and the tin of paint remover, making my borrowed castle pristine, for no apparent reason.

But seriously….what the fuck? Is it so hard to just do a good job?