The great model making saga
Just a quick self pimp first. My october sale in my mayfly78 and inkdoodles shops is coming to an end. A little tip: I have a very busy day tomorrow, so I won't be taking the sale down until the night, which gives you and extra day if you are feeling impulsive.
So I've been very busy this week making models. I think that's the proper term in english. We call them maquettes in greek, from the french. Some guy came to the shop on Friday and commissioned two models.
[Huge long ass description of the whole saga]
So on Friday this middle-aged indian (probably, not sure) speaking broken english comes into the shop holding the interior of a rather complicated clock asking for someone who can make a model out of it. He gets directed to me.
At first I think he's having me on. He says he's there on behalf of a girl who's studying architecture - I'm assuming his employer. She was given as a project to make a model of the inside of a clock. I studied architecture. They never made us do ridiculous things like that. I really didn't want to deal with him and was rather abrupt, but he was persistent. He called her and I talked with her. I stated my terms, half hoping it would scare them off. I couldn't tell them in advance how much it would cost, but I'd charge them for materials and equipment bought and count how many hours it would take me and charge them £15 an hour. I was assured money was not a problem.
He then goes and gets a typewriter and tells me he needs a model of that too. Talking with the girl we agree that it doesn't have to be precise and exact, it's more to convey the idea of a clock and the idea of a typewriter. I am told they need the clock by Monday. I tell them it's not possible, because I am working over the weekend and won't even start on it till Monday. I also say I will think about it and get back to them.
Saturday after a lot of missing each other I finally manage to get the girl on the phone. We agree on how I will make the clock and that I will finish it by Tuesday evening. I also ask for a downpayment before I begin. She says no problem, she'll send her driver on Sunday to the shop with cash.
He doesn't show, making an excuse about having to take her on a day trip to the countryside, but says he will put the money in my bank account. I send the girl - it's her model, she's the employer, he's just the go-between - my bank details and ask for £100 to begin. I buy as many materials from the shop I work as I can for the project but decide not to start work until the bank transfer comes through.
You see as far as trustworthy-ness is concerned, it's very simple for me. If I know you - you are a friend, a good acquaintance, a friend of a friend, have the recommendation of someone I trust - then I will assume you are trustworthy until proven wrong. If I don't know you, then I will assume you are untrustworthy until proven wrong. Simple.
The bank transfer doesn't go through until midday, at which point I get a text message from the driver asking when it will be ready. I tell him tuesday evening.
And this is where things start going wrong. I didn't manage to pick up all the stuff I needed on Sunday, so I have to go down-town again to pick up the rest. And this is the Monday after the storm, when trains weren't running and tubes were being delayed. It took me forever to get to the god-forsaken area where the model-shop was and back. I didn't get home until five! What a waste of a day!
I worked until late at night and from early the next morning to have the clock ready.
When I meet up with the driver - because the girl obviously has more important things to do than deal with the projects that are going to get her through university. I just hope she's getting the degree for fun and never practices - he asks where the model of the typewriter is! Sometimes you just want to punch people. There is nothing I hate more that people assuming that what I do is easy. If it was easy, his privileged employer could have done it herself, assuming she could drag herself away from partying.
I tell him there is no way I would have had the time to do both, and in any case I had agreed on having the clock ready by tuesday, not both. It comes out that the typewriter is for a different person, and there is yet another project for a third person. I am starting to think this guy is some sort of project pimp. And of course wondering if he's getting a cut from the whole thing. As long as I get the amount I ask for, I don't really care.
Anyway he seems to think it's reasonable to ask me to go straight home and work on it to have it ready next morning. I say no way, I have other obligations I can't just cancel. He has the cheek to ask me to put aside all my other obligations and commitments to just work on his model. I really felt like telling him to fuck off, but I stayed professional and said I'd try to have the model ready by the next night. He says midday. I say no way, evening or night. We leave it at that.
Things get even worse now. I had left the typewriter inside a locker at work because I hadn't been able to carry it home earlier. The typewriter was too big to fully fit in the locker for me to close the door, BUT it was undoubtedly in a locker. I go to the shop - I had set up the meeting with the guy right next to shop - to pick it up, only to find out that the previous day they had gone on a crazy cleaning up spree and cleared out the staff rooms. Including throwing away stuff that were in lockers! Including my typewriter!
In what world is it reasonable to take a typewriter out of a locker in a staff room and throw it in the trash?!? I complained to the manager, and he said it was my fault for not labelling it! I am now going to make labels for every single one of the items I leave in the staff room - coat, hat, scarf, bag - politely requesting they refrain from throwing them away!
The good news was that a colleague saw it in the trash and thought it was a waste and took it home. The bad news was that she had plans for the night so I couldn't pick it up then, and next morning she had to leave early to be at work in the shop at 9.00. I live an hour away from the centre. Despite waking up early, running out the house, suffering through rush hour, I didn't make it home till almost eleven.
At twelve thirty I get a message from the driver asking me if the model is ready! I say of course not, I said evening!
I make a big hash of it, because you can't make a neat model of a typewriter so fast, and abandon some more ambitious plans I originally had to go with simpler solutions, but I end up having it ready by four-ish. I text him I can meet up and give it to him, and tell him how much they owe me. He had said he'd bring me cash.
For the second time in the same day I rush out the house to go half-way, this time, down town. Because I don't trust people, and he had been rubbing me the wrong way since the previous day, I started to worry he'd try to weasel his way out of paying me.
I wasn't completely wrong. The first thing he does is look at the model and start finding faults. Fuck him! He's a driver, not a model maker. I tell him for better results they have to give people more time. And besides I had been told that exact accuracy wasn't necessary.
Then I was proven right as he tried to haggle with me by saying I was asking for too much and he had thought it would come up to less. I reminded him of our original agreement and of the fact I was told that money wasn't an issue. The jerk hadn't come with enough cash! I had asked for another £200 pounds, because I am not cheap dammit and this whole business had started to make me feel a bit like a prostitute. He gives me eight twenties - I guess secretly hoping I wouldn't count them. Seeing as I am not budging or giving him a discount he fishes out a single scottish twenty extra. The rest of his money was foreign currency. I sigh a put upon sigh and say if that's all he has that's what I'll have to take.
So I was cheated out of twenty pounds. I'm damn well keeping the expensive tools I bought then.
On one hand I made some money. On the other hand the whole transaction left a very bad taste in my mouth. Mainly because of the guy's attitude. I left with the distinct impression he wasn't on the up and up at all. He's probably trying to make some cash himself out of the whole business and was put out by the fact I asked for more than he had assumed I would.
Argh! And I usually enjoy doing commissions so much!
[Photos of the model of a clock interior]
[Photos of the model of a typewriter]
So I've been very busy this week making models. I think that's the proper term in english. We call them maquettes in greek, from the french. Some guy came to the shop on Friday and commissioned two models.
[Huge long ass description of the whole saga]
So on Friday this middle-aged indian (probably, not sure) speaking broken english comes into the shop holding the interior of a rather complicated clock asking for someone who can make a model out of it. He gets directed to me.
At first I think he's having me on. He says he's there on behalf of a girl who's studying architecture - I'm assuming his employer. She was given as a project to make a model of the inside of a clock. I studied architecture. They never made us do ridiculous things like that. I really didn't want to deal with him and was rather abrupt, but he was persistent. He called her and I talked with her. I stated my terms, half hoping it would scare them off. I couldn't tell them in advance how much it would cost, but I'd charge them for materials and equipment bought and count how many hours it would take me and charge them £15 an hour. I was assured money was not a problem.
He then goes and gets a typewriter and tells me he needs a model of that too. Talking with the girl we agree that it doesn't have to be precise and exact, it's more to convey the idea of a clock and the idea of a typewriter. I am told they need the clock by Monday. I tell them it's not possible, because I am working over the weekend and won't even start on it till Monday. I also say I will think about it and get back to them.
Saturday after a lot of missing each other I finally manage to get the girl on the phone. We agree on how I will make the clock and that I will finish it by Tuesday evening. I also ask for a downpayment before I begin. She says no problem, she'll send her driver on Sunday to the shop with cash.
He doesn't show, making an excuse about having to take her on a day trip to the countryside, but says he will put the money in my bank account. I send the girl - it's her model, she's the employer, he's just the go-between - my bank details and ask for £100 to begin. I buy as many materials from the shop I work as I can for the project but decide not to start work until the bank transfer comes through.
You see as far as trustworthy-ness is concerned, it's very simple for me. If I know you - you are a friend, a good acquaintance, a friend of a friend, have the recommendation of someone I trust - then I will assume you are trustworthy until proven wrong. If I don't know you, then I will assume you are untrustworthy until proven wrong. Simple.
The bank transfer doesn't go through until midday, at which point I get a text message from the driver asking when it will be ready. I tell him tuesday evening.
And this is where things start going wrong. I didn't manage to pick up all the stuff I needed on Sunday, so I have to go down-town again to pick up the rest. And this is the Monday after the storm, when trains weren't running and tubes were being delayed. It took me forever to get to the god-forsaken area where the model-shop was and back. I didn't get home until five! What a waste of a day!
I worked until late at night and from early the next morning to have the clock ready.
When I meet up with the driver - because the girl obviously has more important things to do than deal with the projects that are going to get her through university. I just hope she's getting the degree for fun and never practices - he asks where the model of the typewriter is! Sometimes you just want to punch people. There is nothing I hate more that people assuming that what I do is easy. If it was easy, his privileged employer could have done it herself, assuming she could drag herself away from partying.
I tell him there is no way I would have had the time to do both, and in any case I had agreed on having the clock ready by tuesday, not both. It comes out that the typewriter is for a different person, and there is yet another project for a third person. I am starting to think this guy is some sort of project pimp. And of course wondering if he's getting a cut from the whole thing. As long as I get the amount I ask for, I don't really care.
Anyway he seems to think it's reasonable to ask me to go straight home and work on it to have it ready next morning. I say no way, I have other obligations I can't just cancel. He has the cheek to ask me to put aside all my other obligations and commitments to just work on his model. I really felt like telling him to fuck off, but I stayed professional and said I'd try to have the model ready by the next night. He says midday. I say no way, evening or night. We leave it at that.
Things get even worse now. I had left the typewriter inside a locker at work because I hadn't been able to carry it home earlier. The typewriter was too big to fully fit in the locker for me to close the door, BUT it was undoubtedly in a locker. I go to the shop - I had set up the meeting with the guy right next to shop - to pick it up, only to find out that the previous day they had gone on a crazy cleaning up spree and cleared out the staff rooms. Including throwing away stuff that were in lockers! Including my typewriter!
In what world is it reasonable to take a typewriter out of a locker in a staff room and throw it in the trash?!? I complained to the manager, and he said it was my fault for not labelling it! I am now going to make labels for every single one of the items I leave in the staff room - coat, hat, scarf, bag - politely requesting they refrain from throwing them away!
The good news was that a colleague saw it in the trash and thought it was a waste and took it home. The bad news was that she had plans for the night so I couldn't pick it up then, and next morning she had to leave early to be at work in the shop at 9.00. I live an hour away from the centre. Despite waking up early, running out the house, suffering through rush hour, I didn't make it home till almost eleven.
At twelve thirty I get a message from the driver asking me if the model is ready! I say of course not, I said evening!
I make a big hash of it, because you can't make a neat model of a typewriter so fast, and abandon some more ambitious plans I originally had to go with simpler solutions, but I end up having it ready by four-ish. I text him I can meet up and give it to him, and tell him how much they owe me. He had said he'd bring me cash.
For the second time in the same day I rush out the house to go half-way, this time, down town. Because I don't trust people, and he had been rubbing me the wrong way since the previous day, I started to worry he'd try to weasel his way out of paying me.
I wasn't completely wrong. The first thing he does is look at the model and start finding faults. Fuck him! He's a driver, not a model maker. I tell him for better results they have to give people more time. And besides I had been told that exact accuracy wasn't necessary.
Then I was proven right as he tried to haggle with me by saying I was asking for too much and he had thought it would come up to less. I reminded him of our original agreement and of the fact I was told that money wasn't an issue. The jerk hadn't come with enough cash! I had asked for another £200 pounds, because I am not cheap dammit and this whole business had started to make me feel a bit like a prostitute. He gives me eight twenties - I guess secretly hoping I wouldn't count them. Seeing as I am not budging or giving him a discount he fishes out a single scottish twenty extra. The rest of his money was foreign currency. I sigh a put upon sigh and say if that's all he has that's what I'll have to take.
So I was cheated out of twenty pounds. I'm damn well keeping the expensive tools I bought then.
On one hand I made some money. On the other hand the whole transaction left a very bad taste in my mouth. Mainly because of the guy's attitude. I left with the distinct impression he wasn't on the up and up at all. He's probably trying to make some cash himself out of the whole business and was put out by the fact I asked for more than he had assumed I would.
Argh! And I usually enjoy doing commissions so much!
[Photos of the model of a clock interior]
[Photos of the model of a typewriter]