The Three Rings of Hell: A Money Pit, Unending Trauma, and a Decade of Debris –Renovating a Townhouse is Not the Dream You’d Imagine.
An irrevocable and painful loss leads to something new
In the Fall of 2020, a familiar yet discomfiting sound reappeared. It wafted up the stairs, a tearing noise followed by a silence, at a regular cadence. Evening arrived disconcertingly quiet. A mold vacuum hummed. Rain quietly splashed against the building. I stood amidst the bare concrete, rotted wood, rubble and other debris. The recent events had been another stumbling block, a sizable one but there was progress now with a new contractor. Deep down hope had anchored itself. It existed to avert a habitual foreboding weariness. Hope springs eternal till reality makes it scarce.
My renovation has gone on for a long time. Years.
It has been over ten years since we started renovating our townhouse. It is a project that has subsumed my life and left my sanity worn thin. Through it all, I’ve learned a great deal about construction, a lot about who I am and see architecture and renovation from a completely different perspective. I learned that something was wrong with the existing channels available to homeowners looking to renovate because few construction professionals understand or take the time to do things correctly, and fewer still work in the best interest of the homeowner.
By the time a homeowner becomes aware of all the mistakes that had been made, and what could and should have been done differently, the contractor and others are long gone. One is often left wondering why their heating system doesn’t keep them warm, why they have water coming inside or why their windows don’t work properly. It’s not easy to find answers. Sometimes the contractors and professionals don’t know why either.
What brought me here
Growing up, we moved frequently; every few years or so. We lived mostly in government assigned flats or houses. While the layouts were functional, some features, while well intended, were not thought through. One of the houses had a two story opening that was predominantly glass slats. The filtered light suffused the room with a radiant glow that came from high above. The pleasing sounds and scents of the outside deceived the senses until life jolted you back with its unbecoming truth. Mosquitoes and lizards entered freely. Later a rat or two took up residence in the library and fed on my father’s expansive collection of books.
I didn’t grow up around construction nor was I familiar with the process. My parents didn’t own a home till they were middle aged. My father’s side of the family valued academics and learning. He instilled in me an appreciation for reading and design. As far as I can remember, I've always been creatively inclined. When I was young, I thought about studying architecture and for several years, I pursued it in college. However, I chose a different career path that seemed more practical.
Years later, I was faced with the unfamiliar prospect of owning and renovating a home in New York. The experience turned out to be far different from what I had learned, and grittier than I had imagined. Tortuous might be an understatement when it comes to renovating in the city, and more so with a historical building. Construction professionals come with varying skills and some lack integrity; and when you factor in cost, city regulations, taxes, insurance, materials and finish choices…the process can be overwhelming and daunting. One thing I learned during the process is that almost anyone can apply and get a contractor’s license; it requires no qualifications. Lacking meaningful training, or an understanding of architecture and design, most contractors offer cookie cutter solutions that are far from optimal. If one digs deeply, they can find floating around, lost on the internet, presentations from the City about current construction methods. When I showed one of these to a contractor, he said he had never come across these documents before. Construction workers leave their jobs frequently. As a result, the skill level is often lacking. There is not much recourse for a homeowner when things go wrong. Construction is an unregulated industry, overripe for change.
The average annual turnover rate in the construction industry is 68%, as of 2020.
From Zippia
My family and I have now lived through construction on and off for more than a decade. This means there is constant foot traffic through the house, dust, debris, inconsistent temperatures and a never ending demand on our time and expenses. We live in the house but we haven’t moved in. We never know which part of the house will need work next. We live our lives in the shadow of an imminent disruption.
Because I have been involved almost from the beginning, I am the only one who understands the intricacies of the many city filings, the layers of paperwork and all the work done up till now. I quit working full-time some years ago because managing all the moving parts of the construction became a job in itself. The time commitment is intense. Most of my former friends and acquaintances have stopped reaching out to me as I’ve become more and more consumed with the house. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t like talking about it, partially because it’s embarrassing and because I feel ashamed that it’s gone on for so long. Sometimes I wonder what could have been different or why it happened. Perhaps a combination of bad luck and trust in opportunistic professionals, many of whom could care less about me or my home.
In a survey conducted by Buildforce with 39 construction workers, nearly 50% of respondents said they would switch jobs for a pay increase of $1.00, $2.00, $3.00, $4.00 per hour regardless of lost benefits, and exactly 50% also said they would switch jobs for a one time bonus payment of $250.
One large construction firm headquartered in Texas reported that their annual turnover rate was over 400%. Similarly, a crane operator who is a member of the Buildforce network told us that he worked as a W-2 employee for eight different companies in the year of 2019.
From Buildforce
A never-ending nightmare
Every year, for eight long years, I would hope for an end to the project but inevitably there would be more issues. The second contractor that we hired in 2014 would disappear for long periods of time. He never provided a schedule nor a plan for finishing. Akin to a seasonal migration, he was gone every summer. The first time he disappeared, he said he burned his face. Another year, he blamed my neighbor. Later, I found out that summers are a busy time for contractors. It was obviously in his best interest to work on other jobs while making us wait.
Prior to the pandemic, the construction industry in New York City experienced eight consecutive years of growth from 2012 to 2019. From NYS Comptroller
His disappearances were aggravating. Equally so, was his habit of reappearing suddenly. Instead of picking up where he left off, he would work on something new that was usually a low priority. And while doing so, he had no concern as to to how his actions might affect us. I remember the day when his crew decided to sand the stairwell instead of working on more pressing items like replacing the leaky front door or finishing the main unit that would be our home. The contractor collected thousands of dollars from us for a new front door, yet to this day the old one still had not been replaced. Instead we had to live with a sad looking, leaky door that looked like it had come from a long defunct department store that sold everything. The house deserved better and so did we. Each time we’d press him on replacing the front door to our house, he would come up with several excuses for why it couldn’t be installed.
The sanding was extraordinarily loud. It felt chaotic, the house rumbled. It blew a fine white powder into every apartment which permeated the interior. On that day, not knowing there would be construction work, I had invited my mortgage broker over to see the house. I cleaned everything but the dust clung to the air. It was uncomfortable. I could see my broker’s partner struggling. His eyes were irritated. Abruptly, he asked if we could leave for dinner soon. I felt ashamed. A few days later the construction work stopped again. I found a forlorn sticky note on my door covered with dust. It read, “If you don’t finish my room, I will fine you”. A note from my daughter for the contractor, the yet unsullied pragmatism of youth brought a fleeting smile to my face.
After several years of constant disappearances and little progress, I realized my contractor had no intention of completing the work, any time soon. They had collected a substantial portion of the money which they had probably spent and were mainly showing up when there was new work which presented them with an opportunity for more income. Some contractors will disappear and others like mine will stay because the job is their security blanket in a slow period.
Once a contractor has collected a sizable percentage of what they are owed, they become less responsive, refuse to fix things or do any scoped work that they deem not necessary. Some fancy themselves as designers. They will do things without your input and then tell you it’s too late to fix them. Then the homeowner has to hire someone else and pay to have the work done again. Contractors will sometimes work on things you never asked them to do and will try to bill you for the work. Once you’ve paid, there is no leverage and no one to complain to. Technically one can complain to the NYC Dept. of Consumer Affairs but they only offer mediation which which does nothing to resolve the real problems or homeowners grievances. Mediation is simply a finger-pointing discussion that treats both parties as equals and ignores the injury done to the victim. “He did this, she did that…” back and forth it could go on for a long while.
Between all the disappearances, my contractor would leave piles of garbage and a messy job site which we would frequently clean and reorganize. Any requests to maintain the site went ignored. Cleaning a construction site is annoying, hard to do and time consuming. But it’s a minor nuisance compared to other things we suffered through.
The third time the pipes burst
Throughout the construction, we had multiple floods from burst pipes. The third and last one was harrowing. I was alone, shivering in an unheated house. Three floor heaters ran concurrently in my apartment. The temperature inside hovered at about 65. The heating system had never worked on some floors and had progressively failed on others. For several months, I had been asking the contractor to fix the heat so the pipes wouldn’t freeze. As usual he ignored me and as expected, the pipes burst. The sound of water pouring down from the ceiling woke me up at 4 or 5 am. I ran up to the floor above only to find water pouring down here too. Half asleep and dazed, I ran down to the cellar and managed to locate the correct water valve and turn it off. I slowly trudged back upstairs wondering how I’d clean up the mess.
When I returned to my apartment, through the window, I saw a large pool of frozen ice on the sidewalk. A man looked up, saw me and gestured, What happened? I shrugged helplessly. Passers-by were taking photos of the building but I had no idea why. I rushed down in a panic to shovel the ice, afraid someone would slip on it but when I tried to open the front door, I found it had frozen shut. Later after I had been rescued by a friend, I stood on the sidewalk. Water from the top most floor had frozen on its way down and a ice sheet now enveloped the facade. This Instagram-worthy photo only deepened my despair.
We had mouse infestations because the contractor didn’t seal the kitchen walls. Large tile fell off the bathroom wall, random, strange pipes snaked haphazardly through a finished basement, cracks appeared where there were none. The contractor had excuses for everything and was accountable for nothing. According to him, the tiles were poorly manufactured, and a faucet stopped working because it was defective. “You’d be better off with a cheap Ikea faucet.” I was told. My request to seal the walls was met with “I have mice in my house too”. Mickey and Minnie were there to stay.
As time passed, people involved with the project quit their jobs, got divorced, became ill or disappeared. Once you’re in the middle of a renovation, you either have to wait for contractors to reappear or replace them which is not easy. Substance abuse and mental illness are prevalent. The plumber on the job abruptly disappeared to never return and another overdosed. With the first plumber, I had alerted my contractor to the warning signs, only to be told that the plumber was ‘sick’ and would return. We never saw or heard from the plumber again. I assume the contractor didn’t either because we didn’t have a plumber for several years.
Finally, I snapped
During the first summer of Covid, I fired the contractor. I had had enough. A project manager I had engaged in 2019 had repeatedly encouraged me to fire him. Other people told me to hang in there because there wasn’t much work left and replacing him would be a hassle. I continued as the contractor had so much of our money. I also believed they would finish the job. A poor decision where my desperation had occluded the logic that lay bare.
2019 turned out to be a doozy. In January, shortly after installing a door and doing some plumbing work, the contractor disappeared again. In February, there was an anonymous complaint filed about the construction. As a result, we were issued a Class 1 violation which is a serious infraction. It comes with a court hearing and fines which must be resolved before permits are reinstated and major work can resume. I pleaded with the contractor to continue repair work because it doesn’t require a permit. He refused to help and had the audacity to tell me that I hadn’t paid for the work despite the fact that he was substantially overpaid.
It took more than eight months to resolve the violation. The city issues violations to homeowners so there is little motivation for a contractor to do anything. I had no choice but to take care of it myself. I paid the $4000 fine and tried to complete the required paperwork. I stumbled through the process, learning about city rules and the many forms that needed to be filed. I would travel to Manhattan to submit a form and only to find out that I didn’t show up at the right time, or didn’t submit the additional form that went along with it. It was a bureaucratic nightmare.
I had planned to defend myself at the hearing but decided against it. I decided to hire an expediter as they specialize in the Building codes and resolving city paperwork. I hired someone who was familiar with my project. I secretly harbored doubts about him. His online presence was focused on his night career as a party promoter and he spoke voluminously about his desire to start a bakery. He described in great detail, and with great gusto, each Guyanese pastry that he would serve and despite my fervent hope, his enthusiasm dwindled considerably whenever we discussed expediting. I reassured myself…How hard could this be for an expediter who appeared to have a grasp of the Building Codes?
The day of the hearing arrived and I decided to attend because I was curious about the process. We waited in a dimly lit, large room. Scattered across it, people awaited their turn. While we waited, Mr.Promoter worked the room and his phone. It was long time before we were called in. The judge was bland with no discernible personality. She offered no clues that could help us establish rapport. The expediter was sweating profusely, words cascaded from his mouth, the defenses flew out out, cluttered and contradictory. He spoke so fast that I was unable to grasp everything he said. The judge sat impassively. At the end, it was clear that she had sensed his deceit and I too, was tainted by it. Now it didn’t matter what we said or what proof we had provided. She had made her decision and the violation stood.
I decided to take matters into my own hands. I appealed the verdict and the violation was dismissed, a small victory among the many setbacks. Even after it was resolved, there was still more paperwork before the Buildings Department would rescind the stop work order. By the time I had completed everything, it was the end of December. An entire year had gone by with little progress.
2020 rolled around and the contractor showed up for a few weeks. There wasn’t much work left to do on the project. I hoped they would finish quickly and wrap up the project. Their attitude was combative and the quality of their work was increasingly sub par.
Covid was my Good Samaritan
When the shutdown occurred, there had only been one worker on site. Suddenly with no notice, he was gone. In prior years, I’d typically go downstairs to check on the construction but that year, I couldn’t. I was disgusted and wanted them out of my house. Once the work had stopped, I finally went down to take a look. The boiler appeared to be vented oddly. The vents zig zagged across the cellar ceiling, then appeared to go up and through a concrete floor before they came out in the rear yard. They formed an odd lump where they exited the building, then wound their way around the patio, shot up into the air and emphatically concluded in a set of curlicues. It looked absurd, like a cheap modern sculpture. My friends sniggered and made memes: photoshopped images of vents covered in stickers or camouflaged in shrubbery and ornament.
I had never seen an appliance vented this way. I could not comprehend what had gone through the contractor’s mind. I sought answers from other plumbers, vent manufacturers and the NYC Buildings Department. The responses came back. “Defective”, “Non-compliant”, “Doesn’t conform to codes” and “Potentially hazardous.”
Up until this point, the contractor had seemed mildly incompetent but it didn’t cross my mind that they would do work that was seriously faulty or pose a danger. The falling tile I had ascribed to carelessness or a lack of supervision. When it came to other issues, blame had been squarely placed on the prior contractor. Now I began to wonder what else had been done improperly.
We hired a new contractor to finish what we thought would be several months of work. Almost immediately after he started, we found water had been entering the building for several years and entire rooms had to be gutted. Then, it was discovered that the columns holding up the rear wall were only partially on solid ground. Some time after that, the central load bearing wall was found to be at risk of collapse. One summer day, after months of work had taken place, the ceiling in a lower bedroom came crashing down. As we opened up walls and ceilings, there were unexpected surprises; an empty packet of chips in the joists, chicken bones wrapped in foil and placed inside a pipe, gas leaks and exposed wires. An empty caulk tube and bricks tumbled out of a bathroom ceiling. The person who discovered this giggled in disbelief. In the hallway, a cascade of electrical wire poured out like entrails. While repairing one area, we would uncover other issues. A simple wiring repair led to the remodel of the entire bathroom. We’ve redone some of the work, several times over. It’s expensive, time consuming and draining.
Replacing a contractor in the city is a hassle. Seasoned contractors know that a job like mine could be problematic because they don’t know what they might find or estimate how long the project will take. It’s not complicated but they can be skittish. Fear subdues their normal overconfidence.
For the homeowner, firing a contractor means added costs and time. There are new filings, permits, new scopes of work, plan amendments etc. City filings can take anywhere from weeks to months depending on the backlog. New permits have to be filed and these almost always increase taxes as the city assumes you’re making more improvements. Fighting it is time consuming and seemingly impossible.
Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves - Thoreau
I’ve lost track of the many tradespeople and contractors that have come and gone. Some were better than others but they shared common traits. They don’t like admitting what they don’t know. They won’t acknowledge their mistakes as they will lose time, money or both. Over the course of their work, they will nonchalantly disconnect things or leave things unfinished which can cause other problems. They will shrug this off as if you’re making a big deal.
One of the contractors didn’t share that he was neurodivergent till it was too late. In the beginning, he hid it well. Then it took over and manifested itself as a string of unfinished work, erratic appearances and little progress. He had taken on too much work and was incapable of planning or managing his time effectively. He seemed oddly unaware of his shortcomings and the resultant effect of his actions. Later I found out it was because he had abandoned treatment. Nonetheless, it felt irresponsible.
Another contractor was a bully who assailed me every single day, till one day, I screamed back and ended it. They whined about how tough their jobs were or how they didn’t make enough money. I listened, incredulous, as I know how much I’ve paid them and how much additional work and stress they had caused.
There were also independent tradespeople that came and went; plasterers, carpenters, woodworkers etc. One of them was a woodworker from Trinidad; silver toothed, wrinkled and frail. Despite open heart surgery, he continued to smoke, against his doctor’s orders. He was a hard worker and mostly kept to himself. Trini had great admiration for the bully because he seemed in control and was effective at his job. The bully had his own crew. They were efficient and acted as though they were better than everyone else. But the bully had a soft spot for Trini and treated him gently. I could hear the gratitude in Trini’s voice as he would wail “Thank yoooo Bossman”
There were underlying tensions amongst the crew that arose from cultural differences and each individual’s self-perceived importance. One day, the replacement contractor rebuked Trini as he had scraped the tile incorrectly. Trini retreated and sulked on the front steps. He then turned to his protector who called the other contractor incompetent and screamed a slew of insults. They yelled at each other and the fighting carried over to the street. The irony in this was that both believed and had falsely claimed to know things they didn’t. One by one, in rapid succession, I cleansed myself of them.
I am still not sure why and how I’ve survived a decade of abuse. One possible culprit is my belief that one should finish things unless there are good reasons not to. I take solace in the fact that I don’t abandon projects.
My renovation has still not ended though I am wearily optimistic that there may be an end in sight. One of my present contractors is a finance professional who went through a similar experience. And the other is a former lawyer and broker who is now a licensed contractor. Both are honest people that have shown that they care.
I do not want pity. I may have a mountain of debt and have missed living my life fully for longer than a decade. I don’t wish this on others but I do look back and wonder if access to the right people or resources could have helped me. Over the last several years, I’ve thought about who I am and what I should do with the knowledge I’ve gained. I believe I have things to share that are useful or may simply bring comfort. Dharma teaches us to serve others in ways we are capable.
Information has become my unseen counselor. Perhaps it will become yours too.
Learning is a tenacious habit that has clung to me since childhood. Puzzling problems drive an insatiable curiosity that will not subside till I have found the answer. My relentlessness can sometimes be to my own detriment and cause immense frustration to those around me. During construction, I disregarded my instincts and put my faith in professionals. Many of their choices and actions were not optimal and some were downright poor. However, I couldn’t advocate for myself because I didn’t have the information and tools to do so.
The formerly ubiquitous Syms slogan repeats itself in my head. An educated consumer is our best customer.
Dishonest providers don’t want informed customers because it restricts how much they are able to control. Honest ones embrace it because collaboration and innovation can drive better outcomes for everyone. Information enabled me to make smarter choices and solve problems that had stymied professionals. Information is the ally I came to depend on during unscrupulous times. I hope it will be yours too.
In this newsletter, I’ll be writing about all things related to renovating a house in New York City. Information that will help you make better decisions and navigate challenging situations. If you are interested, please subscribe. If you have ideas for things you’d like me to write about, please comment or send me an email.
I write in memory of Buckminster Fuller and in remembrance of my mother because she did not live to see me complete my renovation. I end with gratitude and thanks.
I read this with my mouth hanging open and a feeling of dread and outrage bubbling up. Even after decades of practice, I’m still amazed at how many unscrupulous people are out there, ruining people’s lives with their lies and incompetence. This goes so far beyond Murphy’s Law, it’s in its own category of misery. I’m so sorry this happened. We owned an old house for 12 years that housed four apartments and the plumbing leaks were the absolute worst, most stressful events. We were blessed with good contractors for the most part. But I know the others are out there. I’ve had a couple of projects nearly ruined by them. People deserve better.
I hear very familiar things all over this article but I have to ask where was your architect in all this? Those of us with experience can sniff out liars and cheats pretty quickly and we pride ourselves on leading our clients through unfamiliar territory and looking out for their best interests. Even so, it can be difficult, clients often hire contractors with impossibly low bids against our advice. which is why it is important for us to be involved through the construction process.