Karen vs the tapdancing bird

Here's a cautionary tale. We're told not to behave like Karens, and sometimes this is useful to remember, including for me. But other times a bit of Karen is essential. This last week, it saved my bacon.

In December, a weird thing happened. Something got trapped in the wall cavity of my house, just below the roof, and I can't be sure what it was, but the type and level of noise makes me think it was a rat. It started scratching one night and kept going until the next, when it died. Ewww.

I do not care for rats, especially when they're right by my bed, but I was more worried about the fact that something had got into a space it shouldn't. You can never say never with rats - they are utter dicks - but the design and newness and smallness of my house make it less likely a critter could get in. The rat potentially signalled a weathertightness problem. I got in touch with the developer who built my little whare.

A bloke was duly dispatched to my house. He stood outside and looked up at the roof while I explained what had happened. It's not possible a rat could've gotten in, he told me flat out. But I heard it, I said, and so did my son: it made a lot of noise for a long time. Actually, the bloke replied, what I probably heard was just a bird on the roof.

Now I am not a builder or even an ornithologist, but really and truly. Had a bird (which would've been approximately the size of a moa to make that much noise) picked a spot on my roof and just decided to tapdance there for 24 hours, like it was a frickin Telethon?

As gently as I could, I pointed to the flaws with this theory. With this unexpected pushback, the bloke changed tack. Yes, maybe it was possible a rat got into my wall - but the whole roof would have to be lifted to do anything about it, he said, so sorry, can't help. Unfortunately for the bloke, my guarantee doesn't cover only repairs that are convenient, so I again helped the fella wrap some gentle learnings around this.

OK, the bloke said, trying another new tack. Maybe it was a mouse, and mice get into things, so it was my problem. Off he went, without even looking at my roof.

Because I couldn't budge the bloke, I emailed the developer instead. Again, as politely as I could, I said I wanted to document, in the event of future problems, that I'd raised a potential weathertightness issue that hadn't been resolved. I felt like it was all I could do.

After that, everyone moved on with their lives, except the rat - until early this week, when the storm happened. I was a bit unlucky, I thought, but it turned out to be my best luck ever.

On Monday morning, I woke up to a plopping sound. Out into the hallway I meandered, and sure enough: water was running through a light fixture in the ceiling on my upper storey. This shouldn't have happened. Yes, the storm was bad, but my house is new. It's also sheltered - to the extent my outdoor furniture didn't even move in the weather. And it came with a climate change resilience rating. Yet my little whare had stumbled at the first hurdle.

I was actually grumpy now, and this is when I activated my Karen. I emailed the developer with a video of the leak, told them I'd already had a visit from a bloke who told me he wouldn't help, and asked them to send someone who would help instead. And what happened next? Well, they were incredibly responsive. Within three hours, two other guys turned up. One got into the ceiling and confirmed it within seconds: there was a hole in the roof.

The guys apologised that the previous bloke had flipped me the bird (or rat), so to speak, and said they'd send roofers around once the weather cleared.

We're not finished the story, but let's digress for a moment. This whole thing really touched a nerve for me. Let me take you on a journey through my annoyances. There's the obvious one - the original bloke tried to make me feel stupid so I would stop complaining, in a way he probably wouldn't have tried with a man.

Stepping back further, it all touched a much deeper nerve. I've been in so many situations, usually work ones, where there's a pressure not to speak up about risks. It's not even a gender thing - more this kind of unspoken rule that there's a group vibe, you don't want to put yourself on the outer, and sometimes buying into a bit of suspended disbelief or sloppy thinking is just expected of you to keep the peace. Worry about any problems you're creating later - or better still, let someone else worry about them.

Watching this dynamic play out has made me feel strongly that eroding the confidence of people who speak up is not a good idea. It's not just that it's bad manners. It's that the people who speak up, pain in your behind though they are in the moment, are often saving your behind. There have been very few cock-ups after which people gathered around and said, "Well, we've let down our clients and damaged our own reputations - but we sure did avoid a mildly awkward conversation in a meeting, didn't we? Eh? Job well done!".

To come back to the story - specifically, the thing that made me lucky.

After the guys confirmed I had a hole in the roof, I started to look more seriously into my rights. I have a Master Builder guarantee, but I'd never delved into it. I took some advice from friends. When I did, I was horrified about the cock-up I'd nearly made myself. If you're aware of a problem with your house, you have to let the Master Builder folks know within 90 days, or they won't cover it.

At this point, it's not possible to say whether the rat came in the same way as the water - but a hard-nosed insurer could definitely try to make that argument. I'd raised the rat issue weeks ago, meaning I was aware of a potential problem, which might've set the 90-day clock ticking - but I'd kind of backed down in the face of the developer, and taken things no further. If it wasn't for the leak during the storm, I might have let it slide, gone past 90 days, and voided my own cover - only figuring out my problem once I had serious damage and no protection. That lucky old leak might've saved me from disaster.

This isn't even the final chapter of the story.

Yesterday, the roofers came around and climbed up for a look. The problem was as clear as day. And what was it? I'll give you a hint: it wasn't a tapdancing bird.

During the original build of my house, the developers' crew had forgotten to screw down part of the roof. I wish I was joking. The screws that should've been used were just sitting up there, as they had been for two and a half years, beside the holes they should've been screwed into, on the unsecured bit of Colorsteel that had let the rain in. Unless the tapdancing bird had done this also, the developers had made an almighty cock-up that might have cost me dearly. Turns out my lady-brain too small to understand important man stuff was actually on to something.

And here's what's sad. I guarantee you this: there was at least one guy in the original crew who felt a bit uneasy. Things had gotten behind, so it was long days and fast work to catch up. Standards were fraying just slightly. But everyone was working so hard, pulling long hours and making the best of it - and no one wants to be the one who kills that vibe. I bet the guy thought about saying something and decided against it.

To Karen or not to Karen? That is the question. When I look in the mirror, I see this middle-aged woman with opinions, and I feel like an almost laughable stereotype. But I'm a Karen with a weathertight home, I hope at least. The other scenario doesn't bear thinking about.

So here's what I say. Learn to listen to the Karen in your life, even if she's you - and even when the behind she's a pain in is your own.