Adventures in the Trade
Jobsite Joys
Some days are better than others.
Photo by Alex Padurariu from Unsplash
By Jason Nottestad
In the large and varied world of the hard-surfaces industry, there’s no more interesting job than templating and installing residential remodels. The residential remodel combines the challenge of adapting a current space for reuse with the challenge of working with the person who has been using that space -- and will be in the future. The customer service skills required for this countertop application are much-more-subtle than for commercial or new construction. Some fabricators loathe working with homeowners -- I even had one guy tell me straight up that he quit the industry because if he had to deal with one more Karen he’d blow his top. While I understand the sentiment, I’m from a different school. I appreciate the straightforward nature of a commercial jobsite. I have even, on rare occasions, enjoyed the installation of multi-family units. Interacting with the other skilled trades can be an exercise in team building and result in amazing projects. But in the end, a building is a building. Meeting a deadline can get stressful, but even then, it remains impersonal. The residential remodel is all about people. And the world is only an intriguing place because of the people in it. Countertop remodel experiences fall into two distinct categories – odd circumstances and unexpected kindnesses. Most stone guys I know would add a third category for the ‘jerk’ customer, but I’ve been lucky in that regard.
Photo by Jason Nottestad
After cutting outside in below-zero weather, it's hard to beat a friendly customer and a cup of hot cocoa.
I cooked through the installation like I was on a countdown clock, gladly avoiding the hellhound.
The odd circumstance takes many forms, often comical. We showed up to one jobsite and a 120 lbs woman was holding a 120 lbs male dog on a leash on the other side of a screen door. As he growled a deep, long growl that seemingly emanated from the depths of hell, she told us what a nice dog he was. I assured her I believed he was a great dog, but I’d prefer to install without his presence. She reluctantly shut him in a room off the kitchen, where he proceeded to scratch menacingly at the door. She insisted this was his way of showing how much he wanted to meet us. I normally install at a measured pace, but that day I cooked through the installation like I was on a countdown clock, gladly avoiding the hellhound. Once, when we were installing a kitchen, the satellite-dish installer was working in the same house. He sat on the couch in the living room the entire day, flipping channels and watching TV- and making slight adjustments to the direction the dish pointed. The homeowner and I were amazed the guy’s job consisted of that. The homeowner bemoaned how much he’d spent on medical school when he could have been putting in dishes. He joked about the conversation the guy must have at night with his wife. “How was your day, honey?” “Terrible. There was nothing good on TV.” Another time we finished installing a large kitchen out of Black Galaxy. The owner asked us if her husband could pay us in cash. I told her it was no problem, and when he arrived he pulled out a stack of $100 bills as thick as his wrist. He peeled off enough to pay the bill and thanked us for doing a great job. After we were in the truck on the way home, my install helper Will informed me we just did countertops for one of the biggest drug dealers in town. I was relieved they liked the kitchen.
Photo by Jason Nottestad
During all the time I worked on installing this countertop, a satellite-dish installer spent hours watching TV to fine-tune the reception. Nice job if you can get it.
The workers were all Pabst drinkers from rural Wisconsin, and French wine was not something they would willingly consume.
Photo by Jason Nottestad
I lost my install helper on this job to our customer and some serious video-gaming.
One time I took a customer to five different stone yards to look at slabs of quartzite. After they finally made their selection, they took me out to lunch at Applebee’s. They insisted we hold hands and pray before the meal, an odd ritual in the laid-back Midwest. Then they showed me the lead pouches in which their cell phones were stored, insisting the Russians were going to detonate an electromagnetic bomb above the United States and fry all our cell phones. When we installed their countertops, I was not surprised to find a mansion compound in the woods, complete with a secret passageway next to one of the fireplaces that led to their bomb shelter. Another customer had made his money young in the tech industry and retired at 35. He followed us around the entire install talking about video games. My install helper that time was a gamer, and I was more than happy to let the two of them chat away as I worked on the countertops, glad that the guy wasn’t hovering over me as I leveled a seam. Once we were done moving tops, the two of them disappeared into the guy’s gaming room. They were in a furious multi player round of Halo when I let my install helper know ‘we’ were done working for the day. On one jobsite, the odd circumstances and kindness merged. The house was an 18,000 ft² monster on an island in the Mississippi River. The homeowner was completely colorblind, so everything in the house was gray, blue, white, or black. To say it was odd was an understatement. The homeowner was also very kind, and as it was just before Christmas he brought in cases of French wine and encouraged the workers to take bottles home to have with their holiday meals. He really didn’t read the room. The workers were all Pabst drinkers from rural Wisconsin, and French wine was not something they would willingly consume. I took full advantage of this, and my family drank bottles of fine pinot noir throughout that holiday season.
Installing with a too-full stomach is another level of effort, and our movements after that meal were slow. It was like two zombies installing granite.
I’ve been blessed with many instances of unexpected kindness. One elderly woman cooked a full roast-beef lunch for me and my install helper, and filled our plates multiple times with meat, potatoes, green beans, and dinner rolls. She even served us rhubarb pie for dessert. Installing with a too-full stomach is another level of effort, and our movements after that meal were slow. It was food-coma land, like two zombies installing granite. We plodded along and got the job done. She was very pleased with the outcome and we were happy to be seated back in our truck. We drove a few miles down the road and then pulled over so we could both take a short nap. It was only an hour back home, but neither of us felt we could drive it without a little sleep. Another time we headed to a lake in central Wisconsin to install in the middle of winter. The snow was already 6” on the ground by the time we headed out to the jobsite. We paused the install truck at the top of a hill approaching the lake. It was the point of no return for this job; if we turned around, we could crawl back home and install another day. But the Wisconsin state motto has always been ‘”Forward,” so we proceeded. We inched along on the hill and began to slide. We slid all the way down, with my install helper pointing out places along the side of the road where he thought we could safely crash. We reached the bottom and slid up the road on the opposite hill. Then, we slid down backwards and came to rest at the bottom of the hill. We turned the corner and headed to the house. The homeowner was amazed to see we’d made it. “Everyone else cancelled,” she informed us. So much for pride in a state motto. Maybe the other contractors were from Illinois. The house was used for their family in the summer and at Christmas, and she let us know there were plenty of bunks in the guest rooms and plenty of food if we couldn’t get out of the valley. She fed us Christmas cookies and hot chocolate as we worked and kept thanking us for getting her counters installed before the holiday. Thankfully, the sun, and the snowplows, came out in the early afternoon. By the time the last backsplash was trimmed to size and installed, we had passable roads. We left with a tin full of cookies and fudge.
Photo courtesy Jason Nottestad
A snowstorm almost left me and my helper stranded on this job with a customer and a seemingly unlimited supply of cookies and hot chocolate.
We toasted his father and enjoyed one of the best wines I’d ever had the privilege to drink.
My favorite unexpected moment was truly a surprise. We were in the process of installing a simple L shaped kitchen and peninsula out of Silestone®. The homeowner, a recently retired accountant, was there. He spent most of the time watching old TV shows, but when he finished with that, he began to inspect our work and ask us questions about ourselves. I’d been waiting tables at an upscale restaurant to help out with the household bills, and Mike, my install helper that day, was one of the bartenders from the restaurant. We began to talk to the homeowner about wine. I could tell it was a topic he loved and rarely found someone to talk with on the subject. He left the room for a while, and when he came back he was carrying a bottle of wine, a 1963 port, and three glasses. He told us his dad had given it to him before he died. He opened the bottle and poured us each a glass. We toasted his father and enjoyed one of the best wines I’d ever had the privilege to drink. He was very pleased with his new countertops and sent us home with the rest of the bottle. He didn’t want to drink it alone. Mike and I finished off the rest of the bottle the next night at work. We toasted his father again, and then we toasted the homeowner as well. And, on a lark, we toasted the countertops that had provided us with a great experience.
Photo by Anastasia Rozumna from Unsplash