Embarrassing Moments

Kristinn Leifsson istuner@islandia.is
Sat, 29 Apr 2000 01:15:45 +0100


Talk about embarrassing moments,

wow!

Itīs been quite a while now since I stopped looking very much at anything
in my customersī houses than the pianos and the paintings above them.

This one time I was in a home and the woman asked to tell her when and if  
I wanted some coffee.  
She would be in the kitchen, simple enough.  She went away and disappeared
through a door.

The floors in the house had very recently been lacquered so the fumes were
just awful and might have contributed to that following no-brainer yours
truly committed.  

She had two kids.  These kids, apparently, had a few friends as kids tend
to do,  and all SEVEN of them just had to be playing "hide-and-seek" within
a few meters of me.  
I told the lady before she offered me the coffee that this wouldnīt really
be adequate for me.  She said the standard: "Kids, you have to be quiet,
ok" (except in Icelandic but I wonīt write that, you know, itīs useless.)
Sure enough.  The lady went away and with my sociological intuition I was
able to foresee that the kids would resume their act,  which they did.  I
was really frustrated and even if this was only a rough tuning the lacquer
fumes were really getting to my brain so I killed one of them...got your
attention huh?

No, I went to find the lady of the house to inform her that I wouldnīt be
able to continue like this.  So I walked across the hallway and turned the
doorknob on the kitchen door, which, sure enough, turned out to be the
BATHROOM door! 

She: Iīm on the toilet!

I:  Uh... sorry I thought this was the uh... kitchen!


I turned back only to see the gaping monstrosity of a kitchen, right beside
the piano.


She came out later and proceeded to offer me coffee which I really didnīt
want.

I: Oh, I wasnīt asking for coffee, I just wanted to speak with you and I
thought this was the uh... kitchen...

She: Oh...I see...


Well, I told her it was either me or the kids and... (thatīs got an
interesting ring to it) she made them shut their cake- as one would put it
-holes.

On the following fine tuning appointment she was really paranoid... not
because of the disgusting perverted piano tuner... but because she didnīt
want to make any noise.  
She told me she had refrained from opening a door on the floor below
because one of the hinges had a little squeak in it!  Come on!  They tend
to behave like that, customers, donīt they? 

Always take the coffee right up front,

Kristinn Leifsson,
Reykjavík, Iceland



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