Going Downhill

Overcoming crises of incompetence to reverse the flow.

Atlanta, GA

April 11, 2024

Regular readers know I’m good at spreading BS. Unfortunately, I’m becoming adept dealing with human waste too.

The sun wasn’t the only thing partially blocked this week. Beneath our property was an unwelcome obstruction. We had to take action before the eclipse became total.

As a civil engineer, I know an axiom of hydraulics is that water flows downhill. Anyone familiar with government policy or corporate politics knows sh*t does too.

In sewer lines, it will as well.

Unfortunately, for the second time in ten months, we learned our home was at the base of the slope. In several places, our sewer ascended as it traveled away from the house. Left untended, this causes constipation in the pipe…and headaches for us.

Several weeks ago, we started to see symptoms. Flow was slow, toilets weren’t flushing, and gurgling sounds emanated from the shower.

Last year, similar portents preceded a backup that soiled part of our basement. In the midst of that emergency, I did what most of us do when confronting crises we don’t foresee: I acted like an idiot.

Paying to Keep a Problem

In a panic, I called a large plumbing corporation, accepted their advice, and paid them what they wanted. In exchange, they let me keep the problem they said they’d solved.

But I didn’t realize it till recently…about eight months after the worthless warranty had lapsed. Twice last week, different technicians came out to inspect the situation.

After dropping cameras into the new clean-out they’d installed last year, one of them affirmed my suspicions by insulting my intelligence.

“Your pipe is full. This shouldn’t be happening.”

“I know. Especially since less than a year ago I paid your company thousands of dollars to ensure it wouldn’t.”

“Oh.”

“So what do you recommend?

“Well, we could hydro-jet the line. That’ll push everything into the county main and clear your pipe.”

“OK. When can you do that?”

“Not sure. But I can get you a quote.”

“A quote?!? You should do this for free! And even if you did, would it solve the problem?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. Looks like there’s a ‘belly’ in the pipe, so you’ll need to jet it at least once a year. But to fix this permanently, you need to replace the pipe on a declining grade.”

“That’s what your company supposedly did last year! Why didn’t that fix this?”

“I don’t know.”

A few hours later, he sent a $2,200 estimate to jet the line, so we could (maybe?) manage a problem we’d previously paid these people to solve. And this would apparently be the first installment of an annual fee that would undoubtedly increase every year!

It was like paying to put a crown on a tooth, being told ten months later the underlying molar was rotten because it hadn’t been cleaned, and then receiving a root canal subscription to mitigate the mess caused by the dentist’s incompetence.

Down the Drain

In an act of futility as effectual as our plumbing, I called the company several times the next few days. A series of call center sentries told me a manager would contact me “soon”. None did.

I realized the money spent to fix the sewer had been flushed down the drain. But, unlike the contents of our conduit, our cash wasn’t coming back.

Yet I still had to fix the problem. Our usual plumber recommended an expert laying sewer lines.

On Monday, he came to the house, diagnosed the problem, gave us a quote, and said he could replace the line in one day. He’d also return our landscaping to how he’d found it, and guarantee his work for two years.

Sold.

Yesterday, digging began. After last year, I monitored each speck of soil as it came from the ground, and every piece of pipe as it went in.

Like a good economist, engineers must assess not only on what’s seen, but what’s unseen. It’s what isn’t visible that gets you in trouble. With excavations as with economics, that’s almost everything.

Like Indiana Jones overseeing the dig, I stood atop the trench as it scarred the lawn. Unfortunately, I had no ancient medallion or maps to guide the way.

Our house sits below the street, which meant the channel deepened as it moved further from the structure. About halfway to our intended target, chunks of granite filled the earth.

First small rocks, then large stones, and finally massive boulders impeded our path. It was if we’d tunneled into a quarry. One plutonic impediment, which seemed the size of Stone Mountain, blocked it completely.

It wouldn’t budge, so our plans needed to. This rock was immense, yet we’d somehow have to divert our pipe around the immovable mass.

Fortunately, we could. But the added distance left no margin of error to maintain the slope of the lengthening line. Any other obstacles would render worthless all the work we’d done.

A few feet further, we encountered one. The day before, we’d contacted locating services to mark utility lines that might be in the way.

After identifying gas, electric, cable, and water lines, the locators painted the presumed utilities around the property. But they missed a couple that went right across it.

We didn’t.

Crisis of Incompetence

Meeting unexpected resistance that wasn’t a rock, our excavator paused, and pulled his bucket from the ditch. Thank goodness.

Had he not done so, we’d have severed our power for an extended period. In another example of the “Crisis of Incompetence” that afflicts society, the utility locators failed to identify gas and electric lines traversing the middle of the lawn.

Fortunately, our excavation didn’t cut the conduits. But we’d need to dig this section by hand, which slowed our progress.

As the shovels came out, the incompetency crisis was reinforced by a call from the company that had been ignoring my pleas.

“Hi, this is the technician. I was told you need a camera to check your sewer. I’m on my way. Should be there in about half an hour.”

“I don’t need another camera. I need someone to fix the sewer I paid your company to repair last year. I requested help several times this week. But after four days, you’re the first person to call back. I had to hire someone else, who’s doing the work right now.”

“Oh no. I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

(!)

“Yes, do you have the name of a supervisor I can speak with? I need to file a complaint.”

“Certainly. Just a second.”

He gave me a number.

When I called, I reached another of the gatekeepers who’d stood guard all week…and was assured a lord of the manor would respond to me soon. I still haven’t heard anything. I don’t think I will.

The Lists

When I got off the phone, I mentioned the call to the plumber actually doing the work. He’d worked at several of these large corporations.

Apparently, they keep lists of people who call in. Knowing the address, they pull data on previous or potential customers to understand average income in the area, how influential or connected the person might be, and what they’ve spent on prior jobs.

Calls are usually returned during lulls in workload. Ripe prospects, happy customers, or people with political pull are called first. Customers who aren’t completely satisfied, but might possibly be retained, make the “yellow list.” Anyone who’s been irredeemably annoyed languishes on the “red list”, to be contemptuously ignored till they go away.

I don’t know if this is true. But if it is, I know which list I’m on!

The surprise electric and gas lines having been cleared, the new sewer line was laid the rest of the way. After I affirmed the pipe was higher at the house than at the street, piles of Georgia clay were returned to the trench and compacted in place.

After enduring another example of the joy of home ownership, it’s a relief to flush toilets without fear of flooding our house. These repairs should last the rest of our lives, and are necessary should we ever want to sell the place.

After all, it’s hard to make a move without a reliable sewer.

JD