When you get a new apartment in Spain, you submit a report documenting the move-in condition, including any requests for repairs. We have a five-year lease with the possibility of extending three years, a limit on rent increases, and a prohibition against selling out from under us, all of which we believe is standard for long-term leases here. So creating this report was as much about relationship-building as getting some stuff done, and we were careful to include some compromises. We put a lot of work into the report, including pictures, things to fix, and a request to replace two missing ceiling lamps and one askew ceiling lamp with ceiling fans, which we would provide and hoped the landlord would install.

We had previously met their handyman of choice, Javier, a Spanish-speaker (this is common in Spain) possibly almost as old as I am who’s absolutely brilliant. He can look at anything from a broken manual latch on a bathroom door to a five-burner gas oven, figure out what’s wrong with it, and know how to fix it. I know this because the first time I met him the management rep was translating so we got to observe Javier in action. He even noticed some things we missed. He’s also friendly and funny.

We were told to expect him today between nine and 9:30 and that he would bring a team. He showed up a little after 10 with one fellow. We felt dubious that the list would be completed, because it was so long and included from-the-box installation of three ceiling fans of two different sorts, as well as the tile failure problem you may remember seeing in a previous post.

We were very wrong. When they broke for coffee around 13:00, every single thing was complete except the ceiling fan instatllations, and the first ceiling fan had been assembled, just not mounted. Javier’s “team” came back after about 40 minutes and kept working on the fans. Javier came back a little later because he had to go get a taller ladder since two of the fans were going into some of our most high-ceilinged rooms. Everything was done by around 16:00. They even installed the batteries into the remotes and showed us how to operate the fans.

We were home most of the time, and while they were working, they weren’t stressed. They divided some jobs and shared others, and just had a nice relaxed, competent vibe. It seemed like a good day for them. I’m guessing they are friends, certainly they were very sympatico working together.

We were extremely pleased to get all this stuff done in a short day. Afterward, while the other guy was loading the truck, we were hanging around around chatting (slow-Spanish for Bill, pantomime-augmented pidgin Spanish for me, and rapid-fire Spanish often-repeated-due-to-our-blank-expressions for Javier) for a few minutes. We wanted to give them €50, which may be on the high side for here, but the work transformed the apartment. It looks great!

We really had to talk Javier into it. He did not want any money. He wasn’t upset by it, just surprised and thinking it was not necessary.

Conclusion: Spanish efficiency is very real, not an oxymoron. These men are doing excellent work, getting compensated well enough that they are indifferent about financial incentives two weeks before Navidad, and not having any problems with their blood pressure.

It’s a nice life if you can get it, and Spain is one place where you can.