| That’s Handy Andy. Hard to tell, because it’s written in tiny letters on his cap. He’s ancient clip art, come to fix your house! His motto: my shirt is cross-hatched much like the ground I walk upon, so I must be good! In addition, I raise puffs of dust in my haste to bring common construction implements to your door. Ergo, I’m your man. -- Joe had called A One to bid on the window and the wallpaper. First name in the yellow pages. The guy who answered the phone was the same guy who showed up Saturday afternoon. Joe suspected he was the entire company. He gave off a strong smell of Sen-Sen. He stepped into the room, shivered, looked around at the wallpaper. He peeled back one corner, nodded. He looked at the window. “You can either hire me to replace the window for a lot of money, or I can tighten these screws here right now for nothing. See this plate here? The old sash cord goes behind it. It’s loose. That’s where your cold air is coming in. If you want I can put in another window. Your money.” Joe had him tighten the screws. He could have done it himself, but the guy came out here for nothing, after all. It would have been wrong to send him on his way and do it himself. And it would have been wrong to give him a fiver on the way out for doing nothing, like Andy was a charity case. So he watched the man tighten the screws, feeling like an idiot, and gave him a five. The man grunted thanks and headed downstairs. He stopped at the door. “Here. If you need something else. I can do that wallpaper. You'll need plaster too. Wall's shot.” He handed Joe a matchbook. Buy a hyphen, Joe wanted to say. “A One Building” is wrong. It’s A-1. Think steak sauce. The name where the man should have written his name was blank, but that fit just fine. Maybe long ago when the guy started the business he sat up at night at the kitchen table writing different names in the blank, so it would look like he had a big crew. That was when he was starting out. Back when he gave a crap. Joe opened the nursery door that night. Might as well get his five bucks’ worth. Around three he woke up and put on another blanket; it was freezing in here. |
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this is a work of fiction c. 2005 j. lileks. / joe home / lileks.com home