Adventures in the Trade
Working All The Hours
Sometimes, it's not an 8-to-5 job.
Photo by Thom Mikovic from Unsplash
By Jason Nottestad
As crazy as it sounds, I’ve installed countertops at every hour on the clock. I’ve seen the sun rise and set at both the beginning and end of installation projects. I suspect most experienced hard-surface installers have done the same. For the majority of our careers, we work during normal business hours. We head out early to the first jobsite, coffee in hand, and we head back to the shop during the late rush hour with epoxy-covered fingers and installs complete. This rhythm becomes the expectation for a normal day. When off-hours work shifts the clock, the effect can be disorienting. The reason for working late or early falls into two categories: scheduled vs unscheduled. The scheduled work is generally done for quite rational reasons. A business needs a countertop installed or repaired, and it can only be done during non-business hours. That makes perfect sense. I’d even say that a construction schedule that has fallen behind and needs an all-nighter to catch up is generally planned for a certain date. An installer can gear up for that and, if lucky, adjust the schedule of other projects in order to have a delayed transition back to the normal schedule. Plus, there’s time to plan for enough food, drink, and lighting to make the job go smoothly. It’s pretty rare to be close to both food and hardware open all night long.
Photo by Jason Nottestad
This truck had its share of late-night runs and full-day trips to satisfy customer demands.
We had to empty our pockets into small plastic buckets and then our shirtsleeves, pant cuffs, and pockets were all duct-taped shut.
On one occasion, the countertops we installed at a chip-exchange counter in a casino needed to have money slots cut in them. We were told we needed to cut and polish seven money slots and were to arrive at the casino at precisely 2:30 am to complete the work. We arrived at 2:28 with grinder, polishers, and vacuum in hand. The slots they wanted cut were far closer to the worker side than the player side, which meant we would go into the cash room to do the work. We had to empty our pockets into small plastic buckets and then our shirtsleeves, pant cuffs, and pockets were all duct-taped shut. Once we were granted entry, escorted by an armed guard, we asked where the seven slots were to be cut. “Seven?” asked the manager in charge. “I gotta make a phone call.” He was back in five minutes and showed us where the slots were to be cut -- only two. He then pulled out the brass inserts that dropped into the slot cuts. No polishing at all. We were out of there in 30 minutes and still charged them for the five hours of work we had expected. It was off-hours after all. They paid up, no questions asked. Another time we were working on a condo project that had fallen far behind due to multiple water leaks. The plumbing crew had not followed the construction plans, and carpenters drilled through several misplaced water pipes. The customer was threatening to cancel their contract if the unit wasn’t done by a specific date. The GC made a schedule for completion, and he was up front with us -- the only way to finish the unit on time was for us to install countertops in the middle of the night, right after the cabinets were set. When we arrived at the unit about 1 a.m., it was packed with workers. The flooring guys were finishing one end of the kitchen as the cabinet installers worked furiously screwing boxes together. As soon as we installed the kitchen sink, the plumber was behind us hooking it up. It was a mad dash of a fire drill, but the unit was completed on time. There was an odd communal effort about the whole thing, like we were on some kind of ‘race-the-clock’ reality show. To make it all the more strange, the flooring guys played Pink Floyd on their boombox the whole night long. I think we all felt a bit comfortably numb after that night.
Photo by Jason Nottestad
This job required a drive through the night for a last-minute install. We beat the deadline.
My install partner took out his handgun and placed it on top of the newly installed countertop. “If we need it,” was all he said, and then kept installing.
Photo by Jason Nottestad
This Northwoods condo didn't push the boundaries to install ... but it took a 23-hour day for work and travel.
Another time we helped with a behind-schedule residential project in an ‘up-and-coming’ big-city neighborhood. The contractor, normally a well-scheduled guy, had fallen behind on the house because of multiple customer changes. He called in a favor and asked if we could get the tops in before his plumber showed. We arrived at 10 p.m. to begin the install. If the neighborhood was being gentrified, this guy was a pioneer gentrifier. It wasn’t a place to leave any tools in the truck unattended. We began by carrying in the island. As soon as it was in place, my install partner took out his handgun and placed it on top of the newly installed countertop. “If we need it,” was all he said, and then kept installing. By the time we were done at 2 a.m., we’d had visits by three different neighborhood people ‘curious’ about the house. Thankfully, we left with all our tools. Sometimes the size of the project and the distance-away combined to make the days impossibly long. We did several vacation-home projects in northern Wisconsin that were big enough to devote a long day to, but not big enough to justify the cost and time associated with staying overnight. Leaving the shop at 5 a.m. and getting back at 4 a.m. the following day was our lot in life several times. You sleep for a few hours and then head back into the shop. As a child I loved getting up early, as it always meant something special was planned. We were going on vacation or heading out to the woods to deer-hunt or to the stream to fish for trout. As an installer, the early mornings became a time of anxiety and anticipation. Before you arrive at the project and begin, your concerns about pieces fitting correctly and how to best move a heavy island -- they become heightened. Once the install starts, the nature of the work takes over and you are able to shake the worry by action. But a long drive to a job site can by mentally draining -- making the day seem even longer.
We barreled down the road well above the posted limits, stopping only for gas, coffee, and cigarettes. The trip had a bit of a Blues Brothers feel.
Tom Petty was right. The waiting is the hardest part. The unscheduled off-hours projects are, by far, the more challenging. They can also be infuriating. The reasons for these are generally down to two causes: poor planning and unreasonable promises. The “your lack of planning is not my emergency” memes are pretty funny until your customer or boss causes one. I’ve been on the losing end of poor planning and insane promises on several memorable occasions. On one project, the countertops for a condominium sat completed on an A-frame for a week before the contractor told us they needed to be installed the next day -- an eight-hour drive away. It was the first unit in the project, so it was important. We loaded up the truck and headed out. I drove for a while until my install partner grew tired of my driving slightly above the speed limit. He took over, telling me I drove like ‘a f*#@ing grandma.’ From that point on we barreled down the road well above the posted limits, stopping only for gas, coffee, and cigarettes. The trip had a bit of a Blues Brothers feel. We met the apologetic contractor at 4 a.m. on the jobsite only to discover the elevator was not working. We installed the kitchen and three bathrooms, hogging all the pieces up to the third floor. We completed the installation about noon. At which point, in a mild state of delirium, we got back in the truck and drove home. My fellow installer slept on the way back, having lost his need for speed. Sometimes you learn from the unscheduled late work and plan ahead for the next project. We did the countertops for multiple locations in a chain of frozen yogurt shops. The stores were complicated in design and on the first project the GC fell way behind. Instead of reaching out to us to plan a late-night install, he simply called one afternoon and demanded that we install that night. It was a pain, but we did it. For the next location, we weren’t sure he’d learn his lesson and plan better. Once the cabinet installation began, I called him three times a day to ask what day we could install. I blew his phone up making sure he understood we were going to install during the day. He stopped picking up, and I couldn’t blame him. But we installed the tops at all the other locations during normal business hours.
Photo courtesy Jason Nottestad
Sometimes the odd times of installs can't be helped. This frozen-yogurt stand needed to be done after hours.
The PGA pro watched us work for about 10 minutes and then said, in a joking tone, “My clubs are lighter than that.” And then left.
On another project, the company owner promised a particular customer on a Monday we’d have his installation completed by Friday morning - -- before we even took delivery of the slabs. He told us the guy was a VIP. We were a four-man crew and this was a three kitchen, six bathroom project. With the other work we had scheduled, this was nearly an impossible task. We worked extra-long hours the entire week and by Friday at 1:30 am, we were nearing completion of the VIP install. We were in the middle of installing a downstairs bar when the 50-something owner and his 20-something girlfriend showed up to inspect the work. The VIP was an insurance agent who had been scaring people into buying life insurance as a career. He didn’t seem very important to me. The middle of the bar had a raised circular top about 36” inches in diameter. Our younger installer asked the man what the top was for. Mr. VIP pointed at his girlfriend and said, “That’s where she’s going to dance.” The woman blushed deeply and looked at the floor, embarrassed. The sleaziness of the comment was the last straw for that week. As soon as they left, I told the guys to pack it up. We headed out and I sent our installers back out on the following Monday to finish the project. He was not a customer worthy of Herculean effort. Hopefully the girlfriend saw the light and danced away from him. Sometimes the late-night work can get a bit surreal. We were working on the house of a PGA pro -- marble panels in all four of the showers. The plumbers were scheduled for the next day, so we were installing the second-to-last shower at 11 p.m. The golfer himself showed up to see how things were going, looking as if he’d just stepped off the course five minutes prior. He watched us work for about 10 minutes and then said, in a joking tone, “My clubs are lighter than that.” And then left. If my fellow installers hadn’t confirmed his visit, I wouldn’t have been sure I wasn’t hallucinating. We found out the next day that the shower valves were all installed upside down. Our late night was in vain, as the panels needed to come back out. This time, during the daylight.
Photo by Sinclair Creates from Unsplash
At night, I've dealt with sketchy neigbohoods ... and a sketchy customer or two, too.