Shane Hegarty's encyclopedia of modern Ireland
Have you got the number of a decent plumber? If you do, would you mind sharing it with the rest of us? We'll swap you the number for a half-decent tiler. It is the holy grail. To find a plumber you must undertake a lengthy, frustrating, humiliating quest that will test your mental strength. And you must do it at a time when your toilet keeps overflowing. Because somewhere along the line, plumbers had a look at their lives and realised that they were near perfect. Good money. Lots of work. Their own hours. Running water.
Things would be perfect, if it wasn't for one major problem: customers. Bloody people, ringing them up, looking for quotes, expecting a call back, actually requiring them to do plumbing jobs. So, plumbers have become adept at the tradesman's tease. You call them and they say they'll be around, that the job shouldn't be a problem. You get excited, giddy at the prospect of finishing the en-suite by Christmas.
They come to the house, although about seven hours after they promised to be there. They look at the job and disparage the work of the plumber who first installed it. "Who did this job? It's shocking!"
You did. That's why we've called you back.
They promise that they'll get back to you with a quote. Then they leave your house, head out of the driveway and drive off the edge of the Earth. They never call you back. So you call them. And call. But you eventually abandon the hunt. Where do they go? Are there thousands of plumbers sitting in a room somewhere, squeezed in besides piles of odd socks and biros?
You have to go through this process a half-a-dozen times. Each plumber raising your hopes. Each sniggering as they leave because they know they'll never see you again. So when people do eventually find a good plumber, they are treated with awe. You have a plumber? And you'll give us his number? Cue hysterical, relieved weeping.
It is not just plumbers, to be fair. It is generally true for many electricians, tilers and painters. Thanks to the construction boom, each of them is booked solid until the middle of the century, so they don't need us. It is why we have become increasingly reliant on eastern European tradesmen. They arrive when they say they will. They give you a good price. They do the work in half the time, and clean up after themselves.
Poland, in particular, seems to be a nation of tradesmen able to put their hands to anything. They'll paint your hall, stairs and landing, fix a shower while they're at it and throw up a kitchen extension during their lunch hour. The only thing is, there are so many of them here that you wonder if, across Eastern Europe, odd jobs go undone, toilets unplumbed, wallpaper unstripped. If, somewhere in Krakow, a woman is holding a bucket under a leak and cursing the plumbers who won't return her calls.