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“Patient - saved.” Um, maybe, if we talk about things that are not in your control, so you take pleasure in the good old: it will pass. When it comes to, for example, renovating an apartment, the saying from the beginning does not drink water for a number of reasons. The first is certainly that for your money you want a deal to be honoured. Both qualitative and temporal. The second is that you do not want to save yourself from renovation, that, I guess, should be a source of joy and excitement for you.
A few years ago, a person close to me renovated his living space, so to speak, from floor to ceiling. It means everything. The masters, normally, were searched for a long time and thoroughly and the only condition was that it be - a good personal recommendation. They seemed to have found it.
With the agreement to have everything completed through xy days, a certain hefty sum was paid in advance, the polished “turn-key recommendation” gentleman made the correct impression and - the magic set in. As the lady I write about lives alone, there was no “male hand” to constantly monitor the proven masters, evil should not be, and thus the first cracks of the principled agreement began to appear.
Time passed, and the procurement of materials and the performance of works would often encounter “insurmountable problems”, so the plan was also adapted to the emerging situation. “Dynamic and exciting,” no one who ever renovates an apartment would think.
The thriller continued.
Admixtures of drama were happening.
Comic situations would line up on a daily basis.
The final act turned out to be a tragedy.
After dozens of days of breached deadline for completion of works, tons of stingy material that it was not supposed to be, and vain excuses that are a bit offensive to all sane people, the epilogue was - anger.
I was looking for a more appropriate word, but a close lady didn't offer it to me and demanded that it be *that* word. Okay, I'm just a translator of spoken words into written ones.
Suma sumarum, of approx. 60 squares with all the terrace, the terrace was not even touched, the electricity in the room remained unfinished, and the light switch was placed behind the door, so the lighting was creatively imagined by the performer as a kind of exercise to stretch the shoulder girdle and back, in the morning. And in the evening. And any time you turn off the lights.
In the end, the man just - disappeared. Evaporated. He sent, malted by pigeon, a letter that he was undergoing treatment in Italy and that it was uncertain when he would return.
To make matters worse, the treatment in Italy seems to have been a metaphor for visiting shopping malls in New Belgrade, where he was seen that same evening. By me. Because the lady is my mother. So, the veracity of the story - confirmed.
Why am I writing all this? Because since that event, I have heard dozens of testimonies in which honest people have been treated, played and deceived in dishonest ways. And nothing to anyone. Time will heal the wounds.
Her and our “wounds” may have healed, but an unpleasant impression of distrust of all the masters that exist remained.
A few years later, the idea was born to gather in one place honest, normal, nice people who know how to master, and do not know (and do not want) to mess with other people. The idea of a place where the problem and the solution meet quite transparently and reliably.
That's why I wrote this to you. To see how troubles usually lead to good conclusions, these troubles, sometimes, are a necessary counterweight to all the good things we strive for. This personal affliction sowed the seeds for MostApp - a place that, years later, will show that the masters are people, and that it is quite a pleasant feeling when we look forward together to each successfully completed task.
That's why I wrote this to you.
