Feeding builders?

I don't think it's unreasonable to offer a cup of tea, or a few biscuits to a tradesperson. It's a perfectly polite and mannerly thing to do. However there's a culture amongst tradesmen of taking the piss. It's a few years ago, but I was back in my parent's place for a few days R&R. It was a Friday, and they had a tiler in to put in new tiles in an ensuite bathroom. I wasn't aware of this, and immediately offered to pay for the cost of the tiles and labour. They accepted my most generous offer, and headed out for the day to the Burren.

Anyway, this dodgy looking chancer arrives up around 10 in a death trap of a van. In his late 20's, and with that classic tradesman look - buzzcut haircut, tattoos, a set of teeth that look like they are all trying to get as far away from each other as possible, bloodshot eyes, rollie hanging out of the corner of his gob.

I let him into the house, offered him a cup of tea, and then let him off to do his work. I then retired to the garden to read. The majority of the rest of the morning was him either making or taking phone calls with his mates - lots of guffawing, bad language, lurid descriptions of women from the local town, and excitement about going to some dance festival on Saturday night, and how 'off his tits' he was going to get. He also made himself 4 mugs of tea, and each time left the tea bag in the sink itself. I should have known then I was dealing with a semi-feral mucksavage. After a very generous lunch is terms of time taken he returned to an afternoon of being on his phone - interspersed with what sounded like periods of work.

It got to around quarter to 5, and he came into the sitting room where I was listening to the radio. 'All done there, horse', he exclaimed. I enquired as to the cost of the job. I'll do it for 250 squid cash, he said. How generous of you, I said. 'I've got an equally generous offer for you. It's 150e, which represents the going rate of 35e per hour for the amount of actual work I estimated you did'. He started cursing and ranting at me, but I wasn't for moving. He eventually packed up his stuff, called me the c word, and stormed out the door. 'I won't charge you for the tea', I quipped as he hopped into the van and drove off at speed. Such a breathtaking sense of entitlement he had.