Today’s pharmacy waiting room story features a roofing contractor on the phone with his client, Veronica.
With a booming voice, the contractor tells Veronica that there is “no way” they’re putting a roof on her shed because it’s not permitted and therefore “illegal.”
Veronica responds and the situation escalates.
“Veronica, the contract says roof for the house, not the shed. We talked about this when I came to your house, Veronica. If you’re saying otherwise, then you are a liar, Veronica.”
The contractor calls Veronica a “liar” about a dozen times. Then he ask if she can “calm down.”
Maybe Veronica calms down, maybe she doesn’t. Regardless, the contractor has a suggestion.
“You should be angry at whoever built that shed without a permit, Veronica. They screwed you, I’m trying to help.”
He mansplains LA’s permitting process. Veronica, one can assume, is neither impressed nor convinced.
“Look Veronica, here’s where we’re at, ok. You’re in a contract and it’s ironclad. So either we put a new roof on your house and you pay us, or we send you to collections and you pay us. I don’t care!”
Veronica objects, but the contractor plays his trump card.
“Veronica, I don’t understand what you’re saying because it’s obvious you don’t speak English.”
He calls Veronica a “bitch,” then hangs up.
Maybe he’s right and Veronica is a liar with an illegal shed in her backyard. Or maybe Veronica is right and the roofer is pulling a fast one.
I don’t know the truth. What I do know is that there’s at least one roofer in LA who is totally off his meds.