Mr Helpful

A question was recently asked on the forum about a piece of advice we would give ourselves at the start of this journey and it triggered a memory that I thought I would share.

In the time between magistrates and crown, the panic clearly set in for OH who, not being one to display emotion and being a practical person, decided he was going to get things around the house fixed. He turned into Mr Helpful.

A man appeared to quote for bi-fold doors (I've never asked for or wanted bi-fold doors) Another came to quote for a new roof (which we still need) The real surprise though was the decorator.

We had a regular guy who did the painting and decorating for us who was very reasonable but this new one was found in the pub. A deal was struck before I was even asked if I wanted any decorating doing which at that point I didn't. My life was unravelling quicker than the band could play on the titanic and I didn't want to see or deal with anyone. I was asked what the colour of the paint was in the living rooms, I couldn't have even told you the colour of my eyes at that point so inevitably I said the wrong colour. Mr Helpful came back with some sludgy coloured paint from the local DIY store and the decorator - who we will call Mr Feckless turned up to start the job. I was mildly surprised by his scruffy, toothless appearance, I'm not one to judge and a quiet word with Mr Helpful and he assured me he came with lots of recommendations (from drunk people in the pub no doubt) I just couldn't take to the man but put it down to anxiety over our general situation.

Mr Feckless cracked on with the job and after a false start with the sludge coloured paint we got the right one and the right amount for the size of the rooms he was painting. He was very chatty and confident in his abilities although he was always shouting up for me to check things. A plumber came to remove the radiator while he painted the wall behind it. It was during his time here decorating that social services got involved and I was upstairs quietly hysterical having being forced to ring and disclose to a family member, trying to keep quiet in case he overheard what I was saying.

There was an almighty scream. I raced downstairs to find water spraying all over the newly painted walls, Mr Feckless had his fingers stuck in the radiator pipe trying to stop the water. TURN THE BLOODY WATER OFF he yelled. I quickly turned it off and ran the taps to empty the pipes, threw him a towel and rang Mr Helpful. He promised to deal with it, the plumber came and sorted out the pipe and reattach the radiator. Mr Feckless dried the walls.

We needed more paint as he'd run out, I noticed paint on the carpets and furniture. He sanded the doors between the 2 rooms, the glass was scratched to hell. I snapped. I told Mr Helpful to get Mr Feckless out of the house or I would smash his face in and to not expect a single penny from me. I wasn't paying to have the house trashed.

Someone asked if I'd recommend him, I told them I wouldn't trust him to paint my nails. To this day I still see the scratched glass panels and feel my heckles go up, I knew I should have gone with my gut feel about the man.

Mr Helpful retired from his role, there were no further suggestions made for home improvements. Now I find myself worrying about employing trades in case they know about OH or know someone locally who will tell them about us. We've had small jobs done, a plumber and electrician, a tree surgeon who all came in unmarked vehicles. A blessing as the worry is there that someone might ring them and tip them off. Maybe I shouldn't worry, what business is it of theirs as long as we pay for the work they are here to do. Reputational risk maybe. The roof will have to keep leaking for now, courage will be plucked up at some point to tackle the growing list of jobs that need doing. Mr Helpful will be kept at bay.