Sid is back. This time the object of his astonishment isn’t Bob the Builder, though, but an installer.

IT’s been a long time since I wrote anything but I couldn’t help myself from relating this incident. This time it’s not about Bob the Builder although, never fear, I still keep bumping into him. No, this tale revolves around carpet which – thank goodness – Bob doesn’t touch.

The story is: I was approached by a large retailer who simply told me he had a customer who wouldn’t pay as they weren’t happy with the work to the carpet on the hall, stairs, and landing.
On speaking to the retailer, he said he’d been out and couldn’t find anything wrong and that the consumer was a professional complainer. The retailer said he’d meet me on-site, as he wanted to see the consumer put in their place. I replied I don’t work like that – I’d inspect and write a report on the matter but I wouldn’t wag my finger in the consumer’s face.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘In that case just let me know what happens. This installer is our best fitter and no one can teach him anything.’

Inspection day arrived and I met the salesperson and the installer, who were quick to tell me once again that the consumer was a professional complainer.

In my mind I’d been primed to expect a perfect installation. But on entering the hall, I could see cut marks to the skirting boards and bubbling of the carpet. The job, by the way, was a townhouse, being three stories high, so there were lots of stairs and winders. The carpet was a twist pile, which had quite a supple backing – a fitter’s dream.

The consumer pointed out problems they had with the carpet – namely everything. After that, I felt a finger in my back from the installer who said: ‘I told you she was a professional.’

‘Give me a minute,’ I answered. ‘I haven’t started yet.’

Each flight of stairs had five winders on them and, boy, were they a mess! I kept looking, hoping my eyes were deceiving me. But, no, it was true – the winders were dreadful. The pile wasn’t square to the step; it was at an angle.

The installer told me the winder ran out and, anyway, it didn’t warrant a complaint. I lifted the carpet, to find the gripper gap was as big as the Mersey Tunnel and not pinned well either. The underlay just covered the nose; the edges were fraying as the installer hadn’t turned the carpet at the edges and had just left raw edges. I was gobsmacked – and that was before I’d checked the other winders.

‘Is this how you normally fit?’ I quietly asked the installer.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And I get lots of praise from customers.’

I looked at his nose to see if it was growing so I could call him Pinocchio, which would make a change from Bob. Frankly, I couldn’t believe he was fitting carpet in such a manner. The salesman piped up: ‘Yes, he’s our top fitter.’

I scratched my head in disbelief. How could the salesperson and the fitter not see how poor the installation was? They were both utterly convinced the installation was acceptable.

The straight stairs were next, and here I found some had excessive carpet at the edges while others were cut short with the pile knocked over, which had damaged the backing.

‘How do you measure your stairs?’ I asked the installer.

‘With a tape measure,’ he answered.

Well, it must have been a bent tape, that’s all I can say. There was no tension on the stairs – due again to Mersey Tunnel-style gapping of the gripper. I tried to pull the stair carpet off, to find it had been pinned through the face into the crotch.

‘Why did you do that?’ I asked.

‘If I didn’t do that, the carpet will come away,’ he said. ‘I do that on all my jobs.’

‘Have you got your tools on you?’ I asked.

He said he did and left to fetch them. I couldn’t resist – I wanted to show him how the carpet should look. We removed the gripper and re-pinned it. The installer panicked, saying he wouldn’t get the carpet into them. I told him not to worry and that I’d do it.

There were only eight steps and then there were the winders. I refitted the stairs on this first run only to demonstrate.

‘Can you see the difference?’ I asked.

‘I can but I prefer to do them my way,’ he countered.

I was flabbergasted. ‘Can you really not see the difference?’ I asked.

‘I can,’ said the salesman.

Blimey, I thought, we’re getting somewhere at last. But my relief was short-lived – the salesman then reverted to the earlier argument about the customer being a professional complainer.

Long story short, I couldn’t persuade them that this consumer was actually right, and they were wrong.

‘I’ll come back to the shop and we can chat about things,’ I said, ‘as I don’t think you’re going to like me much.’

At the showroom, which was spectacular, we sat down to discuss the job, with the installer having left. I was upfront with the manager, insisting the consumer wasn’t a professional complainer and that the installation was worse than poor. ‘Unfortunately,’ I said, ‘it’s not a matter of just re-stretching, the whole lot needs replacing with new.’

I told them I didn’t usually sit down to discuss an inspection. ‘Normally, I finish the report, you read it, then you curse me. But on this occasion the installation is so poor, my report can’t quite put into words just how bad the installation is and so I’m offering some discussion.’

To my surprise, the retailer said: ‘Okay Sid, we’ll replace the product, but who fits it as the consumer doesn’t want the same installer?’

I put him in touch with FloorSkills and NICF. FloorSkills happened to have a local master fitter who agreed to do the job.

The job was carried out after a couple of months. The consumer was over the moon and paid the bill. The end worked out well, with the other installer having to go on several FloorSkills courses before being let loose on the public again.

It came about that the installer, although having fitted for several years has never been on any training course and that he’s self-taught. I bumped into him at FloorSkills and he admitted that he’d learned so much and that the job was ‘let’s say, rubbish’.
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Sid Bourne is an independent flooring consultant