*Disclaimer: Skip the third to last paragraph if you don’t like swear words.*
If you know me, I’m sure you expect, “I’ve made a terrible mistake,” out of my mouth much more often than it actually happens. Luckily, most of my crazy ideas sort of work out. It’s usually when I let people in my life convince me they know better than I do and I let them make me feel stupid that the mistakes happen. What usually comes out of my mouth is, “I almost died.”
Case. In. Point.:
I have solar panels. I bought everything and had some really nice guys online trying to help me understand how they worked.
It was really overwhelming though, so when a person who shall remain nameless, although not blameless, started seriously questioning my abilities, I listened.
Maybe they were right, but now we will never know.
Let’s just say I was told the guy who normally works on my RV could do it and I was given an offer I couldn’t refuse.
The RV guy will remain nameless as well since I feel he honestly did his best, he just has no idea what he’s doing. He also didn’t listen to me, but story of my life. I digress.
If you are looking for solar and you come across a hundred people who say,” Never trust any professional to install your solar panels,” believe it. I believed it, but the offer. Like I said.
I said no. I did not want anyone touching my solar panels but myself or the guys helping me if I could get to them. I was worn down though. I was told the guy knew what he was doing. He’d done it before, etc.
I wanted to get in the RV and drive away, but I thought, “I know what I want and if I tell him what I want, he’ll do it. I’m paying him after all.”
I looked that man right in the eyes and said, “I want 6 guage wire from the panels to charger.” He, in turn, looked directly into my eyes and said, “Okay.”
He put 16 guage wire in. Then he proceeded to tell me and you better believe I quote, “The manual said at least 18 and solar panels just aren’t meant to do a lot.”
My heart dropped. DROPPED.
Plummeted down a ravine, rolled over some hills, down a raging waterfall, and plopped into my stomach where it reached a weak little hand out for help and was promptly run over by a MAC truck. Honk. Honk.
I actually woke up nauseated.
Said guy was not even going to return something he didn’t use until I asked him for it. Something I purchased and brought to him. He actually kept 27 ft of the 30 ft wire I gave him. I forgot about it until I was 2 hours away. He had 30 ft of wire and when it looked like he only needed 3 ft, do you think he questioned why I gave him 30 ft? No.
He didn’t even run wire to the battery from the charge controller.
I have to stop with the solar. I’m upsetting myself. There’s possibly much more, but I’m waiting on a reply from one of the guys helping me.
He put my panels in the wrong place. I have to park in only 1 direction if I want them to work properly.
I will literally have to redo almost all of his work. 1 panel is correct and at least I have a new converter. Although, I didn’t want one. I needed it, but I wanted to wait. He insisted saying the solar panels wouldn’t do anything without it. I told him that wasn’t how they worked, but he insisted he was right. Maybe I’m wrong, I thought. Now I know, he didn’t know anything about solar.
I even told him my battery was dead an I needed a new one. That I would rather have two batteries to bank than a converter right now because of the solar. He said the battery would be fine once there was a good converter. I knew. KNEW. I was right. Did I insist? No. I thought. He’s the expert. But he wasn’t. Everyone knows if you run a marine battery down past half way, it’s kind of ruined. RVs are his thing. It’s what he does! How did not know this? I guess it is a good thing I used the money I had for the battery bank for the converter, since ya know, I have no solar.
So I spent $300 more than what I wanted right now. He was essentially paid to research how to put this together because with what little he did do, I know it wasn’t 7 hours of work. I wish someone had paid me to learn how to paint instead of having to pay to learn it.
It’s my fault. It really is. Somewhere in my life I just got tired of fighting with everyone. I got tired of always having to prove myself time and again. I decided to just stop fighting. I would state what I knew to be true and if they were wrong, we would all find out and next time, they would listen to me.
They never listen. No matter how many times I’m right, I’m never taken seriously. Instead, what has happened is a bunch of time and money is consistently wasted and I feel like I have no voice in my own life. Which may sound strange since I’m a very independent gypsy and all that, but it’s true. I’ve let it seep over into other matters which have consequences for me and not necessarily them.
No. Thanks. I’m done. I’m now a warrior. A bad ass warrior who is done playing the, “Well, what’s the point in arguing, it is easier to let them have their way and come to the conclusion on their own,” game. I don’t care if it hurts their pride or their ego or fragile masculinity. People want to call strong women battle axes, well, a battle axe seems like a pretty damn great thing to be when I have to fight through a bunch bullshit. I’m done putting their ego before the over all good of my life. I’m done arguing, but in a different way.
It is my way or nothing. At least in matters that only effect my life and my house. I mean, I’m not unreasonable. I actually care that people feel heard and valued. But 1st rule: my house, my rules. Break it once, bye. They either respect my voice or they don’t and I’m not their mother. If she didn’t teach them basic respect, I’m not. I’m busy.
This weekend, while I am incased alone in the woods, I will blare rebel women songs and sing the warrior cries of the feminists before me. But first, I need a cuddle with my dogs. I’ve worn myself out.