Chuck had looked forward to bringing his nephew Mac into his plumbing business, but now he was starting to think it wasn’t going to work. Chuck and Mac didn’t seem to speak the same language.

“You need to embrace technology, get rid of all the handwritten paper, and move to the cloud,” Mac told his uncle.

“You need to get your head out of the cloud and pay attention to the world around you,” his uncle countered. “Technology is no substitute for commonsense.”

They paused their argument when Chuck’s longtime client Eloise Waterston called about a burst spigot that was making a pond by her front door and leaking into the basement.

“My nephew will shut off the water at the street, while I grab supplies to repair the spigot,” Chuck told Eloise. “Remind me your address.”

“501 South Eleventh,” Eloise said. “You can’t miss the pond growing in the front yard.”

Chuck scribbled numbers on a scrap of paper and gave it to Mac, then headed to the shop for supplies.

Ten minutes later, Mac called his uncle to report he had successfully cut off the water.

But when Chuck pulled up to Eloise’s house, he found a spewing spigot and an ever-growing pond. And Mac was nowhere to be found.

Chuck dialed his nephew and hollered into the phone, “Where are you?!”

“Out front, waiting for you,” Mac said. 

Just then, a man who was barefoot and wearing a bathrobe approached Mac’s truck. “Hold on a second, Uncle Chuck,” Mac said as he lowered the window.

“Pardon the interruption,” Mr. Bathrobe said breathlessly, as he pointed back toward his house. “Could you help me? I live here at 115, and for some reason I don’t have any water.”

“Mac!” Chuck yelled through the phone. “Where are you?”

Where is Mac? 

P.S. The solution to last week’s riddle has been posted at the conclusion of “Fuming in the Living Room.”