Septic Tank Adventures, Part Deux (Get it?! Doo?!)

Saturday I had to come into work, but before I left I talked to the extortioni…uh, I mean, plumber, Ramon Palomo. He said he thought he knew where the septic overflow valve was, and that he would find it in order to release some of the pressure. That way the girls could use their toilets and such until the septic tank guy could come out. Mr. Palomo is a friendly man, VERY talkative, and does a lot of work for my dad. This is why I called him. Note I never said he was cheap; he charged me $45 to change out the flapper on the downstairs toilet on Friday. Anyway…it was already after 11am and I thanked him for helping me. I told him that since I have to pay the septic guy $300, we could just wait until Sunday, but he insisted on staying, told me he would be digging in the shade, and at least the girls would be OK for the evening, AND he could mark the valve so that the septic guy could do his thing the next day. I did agree and asked that if anything went wrong, for him to please call me. And as is my way, I jokingly told him that I hoped I wouldn't hear from him.

And I didn't! Sunday morning I meet w/the septic guy, Eric Thomas, at the house and noticed a bunch of holes in various places in the yard. I begin to gather that the overflow valve was not found. Huh…. But Eric starts anyway. I know he and his wife have church at 10:30 am, but he's pretty sure he'll be done by then, and in the meantime, I'm off to run errands. I guess it was about 10 when he called to tell me he couldn't find the overflow valve either. Now I feel a total ditz b/c I don't where my own septic tank is, but I do remember my Dad hired some folks to fix some underground line after I first got the house, and I was thinking it was for the tank. Now how to nonchalantly inquire as to the whereabouts of my septic tank w/out around parental suspicions….

Eric goes to church and I promise to ask my Dad if he knows where the tank is. At around 10:30 the girls call and sure enough, when one of them tried to take a shower, the downstairs bathroom flooded again. Thank you Mr. Palomo! Why didn't he call me yesterday?! So the girls aren't happy w/me, I'm not jazzed w/the girls b/c AGAIN that morning there were 5 cars in the driveway, along w/some beer cans (different ones b/c I had picked up and thrown away those from the previous day), and this time 2 empty Whataburger cups in the yard, and a Whataburger ketchup tub in the driveway. Since I'm guessing they're having to drive to a gas station to "do their poops" (I believe sorority girls and 5 yr olds both use the same terminology), I wasn't about to nag about the state of the driveway a second time. I tell them I'm on it as best I can, and that I'm waiting for Eric to call back after church.

Now for my part; I have the kind of Dad that when told of any mechanical problem under the sun will say "Well…call a _______." For example:
ME: "Dad, my brakes are squeaking, what do you think it could be?"
DAD: "I don't know. Call a mechanic."
ME: "Dad, my light switch just stopped working and I know it's not a light bulb"
DAD: "Well…call an electrician"
ME: "Dad, I think I hit something w/the lawnmower and now it rattles."
DAD: "Well…call a repair man"
ME: "Dad! The flood waters are coming up close to the back porch!"
DAD: "What do you want me to do?"
These are ALL actual conversations that have taken place, and if anyone ever wonders why I am so fascinated/attracted to men with working hands that can actually fix things, wonder no more. (Also remember that he got me out of all of those Animal Control tickets when I had some squatting stray dogs, so he's not all bad.)
So when I did ask my dad about it, he simply rattles off the name of the company he hired to fix it the first time, and says he's pretty sure it's under the side balcony. Well, that's something at least.

Eric can't make it back to the house until 6pm that evening, so I'm in my room reading all afternoon. I get a call from Mr. Palomo who relays that he never did find the septic tank (No shit, Sherlock), but he was there the entire afternoon so his bill comes out to $280. For NOT finding the septic tank, and NOT calling me yesterday when I still had time to insist a septic man come out Saturday. I kept my cool b/c Seguin is a small place, but I remind him that he never did call me (he claimed his diabetes was acting up and he was too tired to call, though he had previously told me he had gone to a party the evening before.), and that w/in the first hour of him NOT finding anything, he should have warned me that he would need to charge me by the hour. I already knew Mr. Palomo could not fix my problem, I was going to have to pay a septic man $300 regardless, which is why I tried to get him to go home Saturday morning, so this whole thing was just ridiculous. I told him I'd give him $150 for his troubles sometime Wednesday. Methinks that is the end of my working relationship w/Mr. Palomo.

'Round about 5:45 a huge storm blows through, and I'm very worried that this will mean that he can't pump the tank, but Eric the septic man comes through! On a Sunday. In the rain. This guy is aces in my book. BUT WE STILL CAN'T FIND THE TANK! I decide to go to the house to try and help (I know that sounds stupid, but I just felt like I needed to "be" there, y'know?), and Eric did hit upon a spot where fluid immediately bubbled up. This did make me nervous b/c though I need the tank emptied, I'd prefer to find the hole it's designed to be emptied from, not make any new ones, but I trust Eric. So he's pumping it out and one of the girls' parents and grandparents are over to help her move in, and we're all in the driveway watching Eric do his thing. I whispered "Is that really sewage?", and one of them said "Yeah…it should be.". My response: "Then why doesn't it stink?" Naïve as it sounds (or crass, I can see a case for either), I had brought up a relevant subject, for it turns out he did not find the septic tank at all; he hit and punctured my water line.

To be continued….