A Tattle Tale, Too

The follow-up. I wish I were more impressed.

Last week I revealed how I was accidentally brought into a construction crew via a text message. Here is a quick review: I was accidentally added into a group text message wherein I was believed to be one of the subcontractors and tasked with a specific job. So, I was hired (without my knowing it) to do I job (I didn’t know I was supposed to do) as a guy named Elmo (that’s not me at all).

As the conversation took place—over the course of a few days—I was asked to cover up (figuratively and literally) a problem that was created by the roofers (a company I referred to as Bomb). I was not okay with this plan and tried to figure out who to reach out to so that the owner of the building could be made aware of the fraud.

Well, as I had completed the writing of that story the Tuesday before it posted, I had yet to hear back from my second friend that I almost too late realized could possibly be able to assist me in finding, and executing, a real actional plan (Iknow what I wrote). I had only reached out to him earlier in the day, and well, he’s a very busy fellow so I was alright with waiting. Bonus: He works for the city.

After a brief rundown of the situation and deadline, my friend and neighbor (we’ll refer to him as Fred) let me know that with a phone call or two, he should be able to get some answers in the morning. That was fine with me, as this was the most traction this situation had gained since, well… Since it started, really.

The next morning I eagerly awaited to hear from Fred. I had let him know that I would be willing to send him all the screenshots and whatever else I had gained, to him, if he needed it. At about 10:30, he asked. SCORE! He had been able to come in direct contact with the building’s owner.

I sent him everything, including a color-code breakdown of the who’s-who in the conversations as well as some support notes about what conversations connected to who and what and how and when. Then, I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

I had spilled the beans and nothing?!? Okay. Who knows how it was going? I didn’t. I know, I already mentioned that. Still, maybe Fred was having to negotiate a long conversation about work ethics with contractors or something. Very well. I had already decided to begin what I felt was my second to last resort: Contact the president.

Once my little group had done its research, we knew that Care (see last week’s post) was in charge of the whole operation and who the president of the company was. I figured that if nobody down here could help, maybe this guy would. So, on my lunch break, I called. I had missed him by two minutes. And, honestly, I think the receptionist would have let me talk to him—she seemed sincere. After a brief overview of why I was calling, the receptionist offered to put me in contact with the Care supervisor in my area. I figured why not? Maybe they could help, or maybe they were Boss-Man. Either way…

The receptionist gave me the project supervisor’s name and number. Then, she gave me my local Care area supervisor’s name and number. As soon as she gave me his area code I cut her off and said, “Wait, is the rest of the number [insert a series of seven digits here]?”

You could hear her breath catch, “Yes. How did you know.”

“That’s the guy that told me to cover it up.”

“Hold on. Let me find somebody for you to talk to.” There was urgency in her voice. She wanted this fixed. I liked her. Still do.

The receptionist was able to eventually put me in contact with a New-Guy who, at one point in the conversation, tried to turn the blame on me with, “So, why didn’t you just ask to be removed from the group text instead of making sarcastic remarks?”

NO-Ho-ho-OO! This was not on me. This was on Boss-Man and I let this New-Guy know it. I let him have it. I went off on how bad business practices were not okay. How I was not going to let potentially criminal behavior go without repercussions. How if it weren’t for his employee asking me to do something wrong we wouldn’t be here in the first place. No, sir-e-bob. This was NOT me. This was Boss-Man and the Care company.

New-Guy responded with, “We’ll handle this internally. Thank you.” It was delivered with an air of you-just-a-wanna-be-a-stick-your-nose-in-where-it-doesn’t-belong-do-gooder-with-too-much-time-on-your-hands-and-don’t-even-know-what-you’re-talking-about fellow, so shut up. I was not impressed. Oh, yeah, I found out—in talking with Fred—that Gavin (from the first group text) is the owner of the Bomb roofing company that did the bad work in the first place. Gavin knew his crew messed up from the start. So, who knows how long Boss-Man knew about it?
So angry…

Anyway… Later last Wednesday evening, I reached out to Fred. This is how it went.

The owner now knows and can do whatever she would like with her building. There is little else I can do. That said, I now have the real names and numbers of some of the contractors in the area where I live. I will avoid them at all costs. I am not going out of my way to bad-mouth them, as that would not be the right thing to do. However, if asked, I will provide my perspective from my dealings with them.

This school semester has already kept me far busier as a teacher than I would have expected. Each day that passes I’m filled with the desire to reach out to the president of Care and let him know how things really went. I’m pretty sure New-Guy did not deliver the right message (figurative or literal), as at one point New-Guy asked me “In what context?” referring to Boss-Man saying “Yes.” to covering up the obvious mistake. To which I replied, “In the context that I asked him—point blank—if he wanted me to cover up the mistake and he said “Yes”!” New-Guy sucks.

I think I’ll find some time this weekend to compose a nice email to the president Care and maybe one to the Better Business Bureau as well. At that point, I will have done pretty much everything that I can do. After that, it’s on them (Care, Bomb, their respective employees, the building owner, and whoever else was contacted about this). At least I tried.

The worst thing is, I still have yet to be paid (by a company I never worked for) for a job I never did (because, I’m not Elmo).

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