THE DRAIN TEAM!

Egad!* The kitchen sink got stopped up. The water level quickly approached that of a mighty Great Lake,** even though I subscribe to all protocols purporting to mitigate against just this sort of geological phenomena.
          *Often a clue-answer in the New York Times’ crossword puzzles.
         **The extant:  Erie, Huron, Michigan, Ontario and Superior.
       Freddy, a new handyman, arrived with a huge snake contraption and a smorgasbord of other weapons to use to bail me out. NPI: Don’t you just love it when this happens? Freddy was a big serious man with an imposing square head. He got to work with alacrity. (Alacrity was a favorite word of my Mother’s, e.g., “Valerie! Use some alacrity!”) Since I’m the friendly type and also have an abiding interest in tools and mechanical stuff -- my screw driver wardrobe (flat-heads and phillips) are the envy of one and all! -- I tried to strike up a conversation with Feddy. I got nada! And I mean – Nada! So, I started not to like Freddy. Grrrr... Rebuffed, I  left the kitchen and left him to his own snake-like devices. Take that! I said to myself.
         Freddy worked for over an hour, making raucous grinding sounds -- the snake, not Freddy. In due course, I ventured a “How’s it going?” and for the first time, Freddy starts to open up. “It’s nasty. Real nasty. Bad.” It seems his snake will only go up, and not down, where the blockage lies, even though he spooled-out a record-whopping 15 feet. I started to understand that Freddy isn’t stand-offish at all. He’s just shy. And now he’s a shy [handy]man stymied and in pain. It became clear that his assignment meant more than the dislodgement of a gob of gunk. His self-respect was on the line.
       Act III, Scene III. A little while later . . . The ominous final lines were delivered: “It is time to CALL IN THE PLUMBER!” (I can assure you, Dear Reader, I didn’t clap as the curtain came down.) In defeat, Freddy reluctantly gathered up his tools and prepared to leave. His failed mission would now be assumed by the powers that be. Freddy looked at me with baleful eyes and expressed grave concern that the real plumber, who has “so much more experience” than he, might plumb to the depth of the problem lickety-split and put Freddy to shame. I knew, and he knew, that if this eventuality came to pass -- not that Freddy didn’t wish me and my sink well -- he would suffer a deep, dark unremitting sense of shame. Shudder. Shudder.
       Sigh. I called the plumber. I described the problem, gave the necessary info and then – and get this – they said: “WE’LL SEND IN THE DRAIN TEAM!” Do you believe it? Everyone is branding their services these days. I almost fell over laughing, though not at the price.
       Well, all’s well that ends well and, in this case, there was a double happy ending. My sink got fixed within the two hour minimum and, to my great relief, I was able to report to Freddy that the plumber not only had an assistant and didn’t have to go it alone, but he also had benefit of a special “hard” snake available only to the cognoscenti. And yet :-) :-), he still had a difficult time accomplishing what noble Freddy had tried to do all alone and with only a humdrum, run-of-the -mill snake at his side.
       Happily, Querido Lector, I can now report that Freddy, completely exonerated, now holds his head up proudly and high. Adiós and Gurgle! Gurgle! Gurgle!