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. I sent him pictures of my L.R. & Dining Rm. The L.R. had a large pet stain which required replacing the hardwood floors in that area. He showed up a day late for the job and blamed it on the people before me being difficult complainers and then commented that he wasn’t sure if he could finish my job on time, meaning, finishing so he could get back on HIS schedule. When I said, “so I’m the one that gets screwed because of the previous difficult 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 story was just a big fat lie. Later on in a rare moment of candor, (Ken rarely speaks at all), 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 first 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 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, except only darker. I was speechless, and because I didn’t stand up for myself he just rolled right over me. He didn’t give a sh*t about what I wanted. He just took what stain he had in his truck and that’s what he was going to use, he wasn’t going to go shopping to try and find the color I had repeatedly told him I wanted. His only concern was getting back on his schedule, he didn’t give my wishes a second thought. At that point, I knew there was no working with this totally awful man and figured, well, it’s not what I wanted but it should still at least 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 didn’t even need to see how the stain job turned out to know what I was referring to, 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 the floors 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 **** straight you are and I’m not going to pay you another friggin’ penny until you do,” or, just call him out for the lying ****** bag that he is and told him to get the heck 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 childish unprofessional and said, “you owe me some money.” He writes me a very modest check, which doesn’t even begin to cover the disappointment I’m feeling, puts on the polyurethane, and leaves. Never apologizes, just packs up his gear and leaves. Well Ken, SCREW YOU! Sorry it took me a year to write this review, I hope you like it. I'll never hire again.