CAPTION: "Hey there, big boy, why don't you come on over to my place and be my DECK?"
I'm sure we've all had SOMETHING that has arrived on time and in the condition it has been promised. I am as equally confident that the percentage of times that's happened? Oh, I will boldly suggest that for many of us that percentage is in single digits.
But life goes on, doesn't it? And so does our little Redwood Drama. Here we go with:
ALL HANDS ON DECK
Part Five
I try very hard to keep my personal life separated from my work world. But hey, I’ve already killed this day. I rush to the restroom, throw some cold water in my face, and return to my desk. I do some soul cleansing deep breathing. And then I reach for the phone.
I suppose I ought to pause here and explain why I’m so upset about not having any four by fours? If you’ve not built your own deck, you should know the four by fours are the foundation of said edifice. They go in first. Without them a DECK KIT is rendered flat and sterile.
Okay let’s get back to the phone. I have an odd skill of being able to memorize the phone numbers of people I’m angry with. This one just flies off my fingers. My DECK ANALYST actually answers the phone himself. He must give the receptionist a long lunch hour. Hell of a guy, don’t you think? Even answering the phone he carries this annoying air of never having experienced stress. Like a good analyst he remembers me right away.
“Say, my SON says you are quite a guy.”
WHOOPS!
“He says if you work as hard on building the deck as you did unloading it, its going to be a real show piece.”
I cannot, I will not let this clever man settle me down. I’m mad. I’m going to stay mad. Besides I am buoyed with a new confidence from knowing the kid’s dad is not an attorney.
“Look, you shorted me nine four by fours for the posts. Where are they?”
“That’s impossible. Hold on. Let me check that out.”
About ten minutes later I hear, “You’re right. They were sitting right by the warehouse to be loaded. Someone really dropped the ball on this one, and they are going to get a piece of my mind.”
“I am not interested in revenge. I just want my posts.”
“Hey, no problem. Say you didn’t make out a check did you?”
“Well of course I filled out the check, and I have a receipt to show for it. Why?”
“Didn’t I tell you to check everything on the list before paying for it?”
“Yeah, but I was rushed and thought it might be nice if I got to work before midnight.”
“You see if the check has already cleared book keeping, I’m going to have to charge you extra for the posts.”
Before this moment I’d never really understood the motivation some people have for planning THE PERFECT MURDER. I envision my DECK ANALYST standing under a deck where I have carefully notched the posts to collapse, thereby bringing the DECK crashing down on his head. I am standing over him as he is gasping for breath, and I say:
“Is something wrong?”
And you know what? He beat me to it again. And he steals my words.
“Is something wrong?”
“Hey, mister, I paid for those posts, and unless I get them without even looking at my checkbook, you and your book keepers are going to be eating REDWOOD sandwiches.”
Why is it that the stupid, irrational ramblings of irate customers so often get the job done. He comes back from the REDWOOD sandwich threat with this reply.
“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m just going to swallow this one myself. The posts are on me.”
[IS HE READING MY DAYDREAM?]
“I’ll put them on the next delivery date in your area, and that will be Wednesday of next week.”
“Like HELL it will be Wednesday of next week. I want them RIGHT NOW!”
There is a short pause, and it sounds like he has his hand over the mouthpiece whispering to someone.
“You know my son is standing right here, and he is volunteering to deliver the posts free of charge to your office. I want you to know this is not like him at all. You should feel very lucky.”
It is clear to me now where this kid is learning his trade. It is also clear to me he is smarter than his daddy. I decide not to carry out the homicide for the kid’s sake. I just spit out a syrupy dose of sarcasm.
“Yeah, Lucky!”
What else can go wrong?
Don’t answer that yet. I’m pretty sure we are not in the clear by a long shot. See you tomorrow.
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