Frank & Lola’s Countertop Crisis: “The Marble Misunderstanding of Margate”

We got a call from—let’s call them Frank and Lola—semi-retired seaside landlords, reporting what can only be described as a domestic stone emergency down in Margate.

“They etched our island,” Frank huffed. “Right in the middle! And they didn’t say a word!” Lola shrieked. “They looked so respectable! He wore loafers without socks,” channeling all the fury of someone who just found out their favorite beach chair had been used as a surfboard.

Apparently, their high-rolling summer renters—people who paid top-dollar for the privilege of vacationing in their coastal stunner—had the audacity to leave a mark on the countertop and not confess. Not a whisper, not a scribbled Post-it—nada.

Now, Frank and Lola aren’t amateurs. They rent their place for a few golden weeks every summer and rake in what could easily cover a year’s worth of early bird dinners. So, they couldn’t believe someone who could afford to rent their beach palace could also be, well… trashy.

That’s when they called me.

They were in a full-blown tizzy, asking if we worked on Quartz. I said yes, all the while thinking, Hmm… That isn’t Quartz. Quartz doesn’t etch. But I played along, like any good stone whisperer does.

You see, far too often, what people think is Quartz turns out to be marble. Vendors often slap a Quartz label on marble because—let’s face it—saying you have “Quartz” sounds trendy! It’s like the difference between saying you drive a “pre-owned European performance vehicle” vs. a 2008 Volvo with a cracked windshield.

Sensing the worry in their voices, I shared a war story from a previous job: a massive mansion with 11 bathrooms, 2 kitchens, an indoor pool, and more stone than a Roman ruin. We fixed a major stone fiasco there in two days flat. That story did the trick. Frank chuckled and said, “Well, would you work on a house with only 8 bathrooms?” To which I said, “If I must.”

Fast forward to the job—it wasn’t Quartz. It was marble. Called it. But we didn’t burst their bubble. Sometimes, you just fix the etch, collect your hero points, and move on.

After we erased the scratch and polished the island to a magazine-cover sheen, Frank and Lola were so happy they asked us to tune up all eight bathrooms, too.  (Because nothing says thank you like bonus bathrooms.)

As we packed up, two questions lingered:

1. Will they ever rent out their seaside gem again?
2. And if so, how intense will the background checks be? (Retina scans? Lie detectors? Blood oaths?)

One thing’s for sure—Frank and Lola are back in their happy place. etch-free, stress-free, and slightly more skeptical of people who can afford lobster but not honesty.