Wednesday, February 22, 2012

My Beef with the Locksmith

This weekend, I foolishly locked myself out of a New York apartment. I was putting bags of trash in the hallway to be taken downstairs when the door slammed shut, automatically locking me out.

I was stranded with no shoes and no money. There was also no door man and no hidden spare key. I knocked on a neighbor’s door to get the maintenance man’s number. He informed me that he was not working today and that it would take him 45 minutes to get there, plus a whopping $80 for his services.

Frustrated, I contacted a locksmith who informed me that he could have someone there in 15-minutes for the same price. I went with the locksmith. Another man arrived 20-minutes later, out of breath from the 5-flights of stairs he was forced to climb.

Before starting, he went over pricing with me. According to this ass****, it would cost $80 to unlock the door. It would cost $35 for his services. Plus, it would cost an additional $125 to replace the lock that he was going to have to drill out. I stood there in shock. “What happened to the original $80 price I was quoted on the phone?” I asked. He explained that his co-worker did not understand the work that was needed, which is why he was explaining the different costs before he began. However, if I paid cash, he would “do me a favor” and charge $195 for the entire thing instead. “That’s a scam,” I shouted. “How can you quote one price and then charge three times as much?” The words sounded naïve as soon as I blurted them out. I had to remind myself that I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

The locksmith stood there with a blank stare, completely unwilling to budge. I refused to pay the exaggerated price and he left. I had to call the maintenance man again and beg for his services. Two hours and $80 later, I was back in the apartment. Defeated, I cancelled my dinner reservations that night and opted for Chinese takeout instead.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Who Wants Cake?

I recently threw a massive surprise party for my brother’s 25th birthday. Since my mom owns a bakery I ordered a gigantic cake. I said I wanted it to be “huge.” We decided on a German Chocolate masterpiece. This took two people to deliver. When my father dragged it into my apartment, I asked, “Do you think this is big enough?” He laughed in my face. We now have leftovers for Max’s next 10-birthdays.