It is Sunday, and I have just had a message from a masonry yard, asking me to confirm the dimensions for the cutting of a piece of Portland stone which I am turning into a rather elegant fire surround for my step-daughter and her husband as a wedding present. They were married almost 9 years ago, so it is somewhat belated.
The stone-cutter has kept me waiting for a few months for it to be cut, as everyone associated with the building industry has never been busier. Private owners are spending money on their houses, and developers are being encouraged to build new ones. The shortage of building materials or drivers to deliver them has been a bonanza for people like my supplier.
I cannot really complain about the time he is taking to cut it, especially in the light of how long the end-user has waited for me to make it. All my working life I have been making people wait, no matter how important or influential the client is. I once made Prince Charles's interior designer wait so long for something that he called me up and swore at me down the line. He was apoplectic.
The most extreme example of this sort of procrastination was when a women with a young child came into my workshop with four pieces of stone which needed a slight adjustment so that they could be made into a small window for a barn conversion. I took the details and she left saying, "There is no rush".
About six months later she called me to ask if I had managed to do it, and I said sadly not, but I will get on with it soon. She again said, "There is no rush", and I advised her not to say things like that to people like me.
A few more months passed and a few more enquiries were made, then I completely forgot about her and her window. I am not proud of it.
I don't know how much time elapsed until her next visit, but one day she came into my workshop in person with a six-foot tall man with a black beard. I suddenly (well, not so suddenly) realised that this man was the child she brought in on our initial meeting.
When I sheepishly admitted that I still had not cut her stone, she told me not to worry and again said that there was no rush.
That was the last time I saw her, over 20 years ago.
That made me laugh. I wonder what they did temporarily with the barn conversion window.
ReplyDeleteLet the swallows in for a few more years?
DeleteMy picture framer is like that. Standing in his workshop I often point at things and say "oh you're doing that one now are you?" "and you've got a lot of work on" and similar things, and he replies, pointing things out to me "oh, that one's been there 20 years; that one I can't remember; that one somebody brought it in and I haven't got a phone number for them" etc etc. He does my work straightaway. I definitely know to never say "no rush".
ReplyDeleteIt is a delicate balance between not pissing off the person you are waiting for so that they want to punish you for it, or being firm enough to get them to take you seriously. When they are not busy it is far easier. James Dyson once rang me up to gently press me for something, and when I picked up the phone he said, "It's James here." I said, "James who?"
DeleteLOL at your story. I guess that by those standards, your daughter is getting a rush job.
ReplyDeleteShe began to worry that I would die or they would move house before I get it done. Still plenty of time for either of those scenarios.
DeleteHahaha, Tom - that story is much better than mine when I bought a Huskvarna sewing machine to make clothes for my son - starting with a corduroy overall. He was almost two then - now, if I seam it, one of his triplets might wear it. (The beautiful sewing machine I "lend" to a person using it for a good cause).
ReplyDeleteI thought Huskvarna made chain-saws.
DeleteWish i could be more like that Tom - if I say I am going to do something I really have to do it before sunset.
ReplyDeleteNow I am ashamed. I would rather be jealous.
DeleteThe stone fireplace surround is a great gift -- well worth the wait. Some people are divorced in 9 years. You knew that and just wanted to make sure the gift was valid... (I admit to being like Weave, above.)
ReplyDeleteDivorce did enter my mind, I have to admit. In any event, the fire surround will add to the price of the property, so it is still an acceptable gift - so long as it materialises.
DeleteWhat a great story - made me smile. That's a gold medal in procrastination.
ReplyDeleteIf procrastination was an Olympic event I still wouldn't get a gold. You have to turn up to stand a chance, despite years of training.
DeleteI bet what she did is this. She went to another stone cutter.
ReplyDeleteYou mean the window? She couldn't. I had her stone. I still have it.
DeleteI am glad to hear we are not the only ones, I have a box of stones left by people, with no contact numbers and we have never heard from them again....and a lot of them are still to be cut and polished.
ReplyDeleteKathy
I think the period after which you can claim them as your own is 7 years - or it used to be.
Delete...and do you still have that stone to make the window?
ReplyDeleteI have a bath stone fireplace, but fortunately for me, mine was carved by one of the stonemasons working on Gloucester Cathedral.
Well good for you.
DeleteOh! I have just seen your reply to Joanne!
ReplyDeleteI was about to refer you to it.
DeleteI reckon your step daughter has written it off now !!!! Does she often ask you how you are getting on with it ?!! What a day it will be when it’s in situ …. I think a party will be called for. XXXX
ReplyDeleteNo she hasn't. I see her almost every day. Yesterday I got a call saying it had been cut. No excuses now.
DeleteOh lordie I've done that with sewing jobs. It's why I no longer sew for people. Can't be arsed.
ReplyDelete