Working With An Old Friend

I recently came to the realization that any more work on our backyard building project in Livingston would have to be done by me. Hiring anyone to do roofing or drywall is next to impossible.

While there are plenty of local contractors offering such services, they’re too busy to even stop by and give me a bid. One company did send me a contract, but their roofing bid was based on a Google Earth shot of our house which didn’t include the sewing shed in question.

I told them I wanted a real person to look at the job, but they claimed everyone is simply too busy down at Big Sky.

Enter my old friend Steve, who called last week to volunteer his services in helping me finish the roof. We worked construction together 40 years ago, and in less than three hours we had the metal roofing secured.

Apparently two seventy-somethings can still get work done.

His help was greatly appreciated, especially considering that I shot him in the arm with a staple gun during our last roof job.

We were putting shakes on a log barn we’d built on Eight Mile Creek in Paradise Valley in 1984. The pneumatic stapler would fire every time it hit a shake if the I kept the trigger pulled. It would also fire if it hit anything — like Steve — as I accidentally brushed the gun against him.

The two-inch staple pinned his shirt to his arm just above the elbow.

I removed it with a pair of pliers while he made disparaging remarks about my carpentry skills.

I asked him if he remembered that incident?

“Oh, yeah,” was all he said.

I learned to build from the ground up, digging footings at the start, and installing trim at the finish. Specialization changed that. I hear things are so busy at Big Sky there’s even a contractor there who does nothing but house wrap.

Now I want to hire someone to finish the project so I can go hunting, and I can’t. It seems no one I talked to actually does the work, but they all know a guy.

So do I.

Unfortunately it’s me.

I’m not the best, but I’m cheap and available.

So are my friends, and together we know a thing or two about a thing or two.

Sometimes that’s all it takes.

Parker Heinlein is at [email protected]