If you go into knowing your baseboards will be damaged and require 3 coats of repaint after the floors are done. If you go in knowing Ken doesn't do any part of stairs beyond treads. If you are able to move out of your house for a week for the work. Then you'll be prepared. read more

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I think I hired Ken Landon because he had a lot of good reviews on Angi's list. He told me he was booked nine weeks out and I said that was no problem, there was no timeline on my job. I sent him pictures of my L.R. & Dining Rm. The L.R.had a massive pet stain that had seeped through the carpeting, which I had just removed in preparation for the job. He showed up a day late and blamed it on the people before me being difficult and then commented that he wasn't sure if he could finish my job on time, meaning, finishing so he could stay on HIS schedule. When I said, "so I'm the one that gets screwed because of the other people, why don't you just tell your next customer you're going to be a day late," to this he smiled a guilty grin and it was obvious that the whole thing was just a big fat lie. Later on in a rare moment of candor, (Ken rarely speaks about anything), he admitted that he sometimes gets greedy and takes on jobs that he knows he really doesn't have the time to finish. BINGO! When Ken and his son got to the sanding phase of the job Ken kept asking me, "how does it look?" I repeatedly said, "fine." I mean how much more can you say about a sanding job. He must have asked me how it looked at least 4-5 times and it wasn't until later that I realized why. When it was time to stain the floor Ken came in with two big cans of stain. He took out his brush, dipped it in the can, and laid down a swatch of stain. It was nothing like the color I had told him I wanted. I told Ken at least A DOZEN TIMES what color I wanted for my floor and even pointed to the risers on my staircase as a perfect example of the color, a sort of maroon antique-like color, Ken's color was sh*t brown. I hoped the other can was going to be drastically different because brown is nothing like maroon. The next can looked exactly like the first, in fact, it may have even been browner. I was speechless, and because I didn't stand up for myself Ken just rolled right over me. He didn't give a shit about what I wanted. He just took what stain he had in his truck and that was it. His only concern was getting back on his schedule, he didn't give me a second thought. At that point, I knew there was no working with this disgusting man and figured, well, it's not what I wanted but it should still look really good. The next morning when I came down to see how the staining job turned out I was in a state of shock. There were at least eleven black blotches all along the front wall and a big black blotch near the middle of the floor. As he came in through the back door I called down from the second floor and said, "Hey Ken, what are all those black blotches all over the living room floor." Ken hadn't even seen the stain job yet but he knew what the blotches were, and called out nonchalantly, "Pet Stains." Now I understood why he kept asking about how the sanding job looked. He wanted to know if I could see the pet stains that his trained eye could see which he knew would become really obvious once they were stained. I confronted him about this. He yelled, "Well, I guess we're just going to have to start all over again from scratch." At that point, I should have said, "you're damn straight you are and I'm not going to pay you another friggin' penny until you do," or, just called him out for the lying sleaze bag that he is and told him to get the f*ck out of my house. So now it's Ken's move, what's he going to do? He has his hand up by his mouth like he's thinking real hard. This goes on for at least 30 seconds until he screams, "F*CK," and stamps his feet like a petulant child. Then he repeats the hard-thinking routine and screams, "SH*T," and again stamps his feet. I'm still waiting for him to say something of substance, like a professional, would do, or simply like an "Adult" would do, but he says nothing. At that point I realize that nothing good is ever going to happen with this piece of sh*t of a human being and say, you owe me some money. He writes me a modest check, which doesn't even begin to cover the disappointment I'm feeling, puts on the polyurethane over the next few days, and leaves. Never apologizes, just packs up his gear and leaves. Well Ken, F*CK YOU! Sorry, it took me a year to write this review, I hope you like it! (I couldn't get my pictures to load). read more