Sparky

One of the “joys,” or should I say challenges, of working on people’s soon-to-be-brand-new kitchens is the frantic nature of it all. Remodeling contractors are usually tempted to underplay the difficulty of living without a kitchen for an extended period of time. And the sometimes promised eight to ten weeks usually turns into twelve to sixteen or more. I still feel sorry sometimes when I see people set up a temporary kitchen in their laundry room or bathroom, washing their dishes amongst less pleasant surroundings.

Such was the case today as I headed to a small kitchen remodel in Minneapolis. My original start date was this previous Monday. But as things often go, “unexpected” delays pushed my drywall installation back until today, Thursday. Or so I thought. I picked up the necessary sheets and planned to begin the installation this afternoon. The electrician should easily be done by the middle of the day, I was told. I should know better, but still I arrived around three, ready to work.

I imagined a jobsite completely ready for me to start, but instead I found “Sparky,” the electrician still buried in wires and boxes and tools and insulation and half demo-ed walls and ceilings. Not only was he not close to finishing, the inspector was not even lined up until Friday, who knows when.

As I asked him when he would be done and where I could leave the sheetrock, he started in on his tirade of the many woes of the electrician: fishing wires through tight spaces, insulation falling in your face, and unexpected problems buried beneath the old walls. Then he caught himself. “Am I whining too much,” he asked rhetorically. I assured him he wasn’t. I could relate. It did remind him of a story though, a personal true one at that.

The electrician told me about his brother-in-law who is a sheet-rocker. This sheet-rocker, in thinking about his back-breaking job, once told Sparky that he had always wanted to be an electrician, but wasn’t allowed to become one because of a medical condition. He claimed to fail the electrician's health exam. Knowing that there is no such exam for electricians, Sparky was confused and pried for more information. The sheet-rocker, knowing that he had Sparky wrapped around his little finger, told Sparky that he wasn’t allowed to be an electrician because his tear ducts weren’t adequate. Zing, zing. There went the slam against electricians who are often known for their highly developed ability to whine and feel sorry for themselves.

However, Sparky was able to come back with a very healthy response. He told his sheet-rocking brother-in-law that when he was growing up he always wanted to hang drywall, but his parents wouldn’t let him drop out of high school. Touché.

So in short, I wasn’t able to start working on that job today. It’s probably going to mess up my schedule on other jobs. It will probably mean some weekend work. But, hey, I did get a laugh out of the deal. But maybe you had to be there.