For the Sake of Fun

So focused on my other blog, I recognize and acknowledge my lack of attention here.

In actuality, while absorbed in the lofty thoughts of heart by night, my days have been methodically constructed around carpentry projects, hour by hour, just doing the work. In completing projects with my own dirty and recalloused hands, I better understand my problems when at the lead of a much larger business.


To really be effective in any endeavor, there must be an element of fun. Responsible for the livelihood of 6 to 10 others, the overwhelming pressure to find work and produce it efficiently under mounting debt smothered rare moments of satisfaction and enjoyment. There was no time for pride or celebration.

In these past months, I have been working alone, or alongside friends who need the help and guidance to improve their homes. In addition to earnings without liability beyond my own two hands, I am able to rediscover the pleasure, sweeping up at the end of the day, of a job well done, day by day, hour by hour. There is an exquisite moment, just before driving off into the homelife, of accomplishment, of plans working out, of measurable progress.

Usually distracted in my life by larger concerns of family, our own home and mortgage, dreams of vacations, and even bigger dreams of someday being the Writer I always wanted to be, the actual tasks of carpentry have been, for me, but means to an end. Not really in stride with the tools in hand, I could recite the adage “measure twice, cut once”, even go through the motions of measuring a third time (having been interrupted by a question), and still get the cut wrong.

Better to leave the carpentry to the ones who really want to do it, I thought, and focused on design and sales. I drew great plans, supported by charts and spreadsheets that no one else actually understood as clearly, and in a booming economy, hired any guy with tools who answered the desperate ads to fill crews to finish all the jobs I could get started.

No matter the impressive portfolio that was built, so very little of it turned out to be any fun.


I miss the big projects, the large and beautiful additions, the buzz of activity on job sites, the line of pick-ups parked in the yard. Honestly, I really enjoyed driving up to answer questions, point fingers, and run off to attend to another site. I tried to be clear that I did not have all the answers, that I was just a facilitator, part of a team, but the truth is that the job needs a leader, someone in touch with every detail, someone who can prevent mistakes, and fixes them quickly with authority, demanding accountability when they happen anyway.

Today, I finish a kitchen. I have installed every cabinet, set every screw, laid every piece of flooring. The job is not perfect if one looks closely enough. I know where the scratches are and the excessive caulk that filled a gap. Even so, my friends will enjoy years of meals here, watch their grandchildren grow. Many, many more scratches will appear.


More importantly, although I would love to redo a couple of measurements and cuts, I will remember this kitchen fondly, the feeling each day of contentment and the tools in hand.

And wouldn’t you know, last night in a casual conversation about something else, I was asked to design an addition.

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Liabilities

Early in my Oregon life, I was the young kid with a new leather nailbelt and tools with no nicks or scratches. Smug with confidence, one day at lunch I drove off the dune where I was repairing rot on a house and headed to town.

At the corner, another crew was adding a basement to an older home. Instead of digging out 8 feet of sand, it seemed a great idea to raise the building four. My neck twisted in a double-take driving past as it looked like only a few posts without braces were holding up the entire house.

Even as green as I was (and I don’t mean environmentally), I thought it looked precarious. I figured the dune in between, which obstructed a portion of the house, must be hiding more substantial support. I continued on my merry way.

On the way back, however, I was amazed to see the house had toppled over, a mass of splintered wood askew grotesquely. The crew, full of adrenaline, were shaking their heads, glad to be alive. I turned right around and ordered some insurance.

It is up to the individual states whether a carpenter needs a license and/or bonding to operate, but every conscientious member of the trade working independently should carry a liability policy.

For the general guy sub-contracting his labor to other companies, it is the first criteria required to establish himself as a legitimate business. A typical policy is for $2 million and costs about $500 to $750 per year, payable in total the first year and in quarters thereafter. Technically, he cannot be paid without providing proof of insurance.

Companies typically will carry larger policies that include the risk of hiring other sub-contractors and have premiums based on a percentage of the gross volume of work. Once a year there is an audit by the company to ensure that any sub paid over $600 in the previous 12 months had, in fact, provided his proof of insurance. Otherwise, he is considered an employee and the company must pay Worker’s Comp on all his hours, a significant penalty if they have paid a few hundred thousand to uninsured subs.

Beyond the legality, it is just good business. The guys in Oregon dropped their belts and walked. With no insurance, they had no means to rebuild the cost of their mistake. In a flash of undersight, they were ruined. The clients were left with a mess—one more bad contractor story that makes it hard for the rest of us.

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