A cabinet job I did a few years back
I was thinking today about a job I did a few years ago. Knees worked better then and I had more hair. I was not running a real business exactly,, I had a toolbox in the trunk and a shirt with buttons and I answered the phone after 7 at night. That is a business if you squint and ignore taxes for the length of one sentence.
A woman I knew called and said she had a situation. Cabinet door would not stay shut. She said it had been popping open every morning and she was sick of it. I understood that. A thing can only pop open at you so many times before it becomes PERSONAL.
She said she tried to get somebody reputable but nobody could come out that week, so she thought of me. I took that as a compliment at the time. Still do mostly. Reputable is a big word. It wears a belt. I was more available than reputable, but sometimes availability is the wrench that fits.
She said “do you think you could come by and look at it?” I said yes ma’am I can look at it. She got quiet and said “tonight?” I said if you need me tonight,, I can make that work. That was how I was then. Flexible schedule. Bad judgment. Clean jeans.
When I got there she met me at the door looking relieved. VERY nice woman. Hair still a little damp like she just washed it, which I only mention because I remember thinking she must have been really worked up over that cabinet. She said “I’m sorry to bother you with something so small.” I told her small jobs still need attention.
Then she took me in the kitchen and showed me.
I had to get down low right away. Cabinet was in a tight spot and the light was bad,, so I was halfway under there with my shoulder against the frame trying to see what was going on. She said “can you fit in there?” I said not graceful but I can get where I need to be.
Hinge was loose. Catch was off. Whole thing had been forced too many times by somebody with more enthusiasm than technique. I told her I was going to take it slow because if you rush you strip something and then everyone is unhappy. She said she liked a man who took his time. I said the screw decides the pace. That is a TRUE statement and I wish more people respected it.
There was a lot of adjusting. Loosen it. Line it up. Tighten it. Test it. Then back it out because I went too far. That is not in the MANUAL but it happens. The cabinet would click shut and then breathe open again like it was being dramatic for attention. I told it to quit showing off. She laughed from behind me and said “does talking to it help?” I said it helps me, and I am the one with the driver.
She stood close enough that every time I leaned back I worried I was going to bump into her knees. She kept saying things like “tell me where you want me” and I kept saying just hold the flashlight over here. Good flashlight work is underrated. Bad flashlight work is how civilizations end, one shadow at a time.
At one point I had to reach in from the side and twist my wrist in a way wrists should not be asked to vote on. She said “that looks hard.” I said it is not hard exactly,, just small and stubborn. Then the catch finally lined up and the door shut with that clean little click that makes a room feel less insane.
She opened it. Closed it. Opened it. Closed it. Then she looked at me and said “oh, that’s so much better.” I said yes ma’am, it is holding now. She said “I knew you could make it behave.” I said cabinets respond to structure.
I think about that line sometimes because it sounds like a church sign.
She tried to pay me extra because it was late. I said no, regular is regular. She insisted and put the cash in my shirt pocket herself, which I did not know people did outside of movies and restaurants with singing. I said thank you and then looked at the cabinet again even though it was fixed because sometimes you want to verify the work when somebody is standing close enough to change the AIR.
I drove home with the windows cracked and the toolbox sliding around in the trunk because I had forgotten to latch it. Every turn sounded like a hardware store falling down stairs. That is what I remember. The click of the cabinet, the wet hair, the bad trunk noises, and thinking I should buy better knee pads.
Comments are turned off for now. I had a form here once and I do not know where the messages went,, which is not a system.
Originally posted on the old Blogspot site.